This chapter is a commission for Rinter, who traded me a new cover for Tantrums for a customized chapter. (You can find the artwork for the cover by Rinter on Deviantart. Go check it out!) :)
(Before Kylo Ren) (Ben is 8)
"You're not going to forget anything, right?" Han ensured, balancing a crate in both hands and still managing to cram a list between Poe's fingers. "Bedtime is at nine – no exceptions," he directed to Ben. "He has lessons with Master Skywalker in the morning, and he has to sit for half an hour without looking at anything – some kind of Jedi whoodoo stuff. Lunch can be anything as long as it isn't canron. Keep him away from electronics. No cats in the apartment."
"Han, he can handle this," Leia urged, ushering her husband towards the Falcon. She paused to squeeze Poe's arm in gratitude. "We need 3-PO for this rendezvous. Thanks for looking after Ben."
"No problem," Poe said. Beside him, a tiny Jedi sulked. Leia crouched and brushed a hand along Ben's cheek, unsurprised when he leaned away.
"We'll be back tomorrow morning," she assured. "Don't give Poe any trouble, and don't call unless there's more blood than a medic can handle. Try and have fun, okay?"
Ben slouched her off. Sighing, Leia rose and waved to them both. "Good luck," she directed at Poe.
"Same to you," he called after her.
A grumpy apprentice slogged towards the blast doors, lingering to cup his hands around the frame and look back. He swallowed as the Falcon swerved into hyperspace.
Breathing out slowly, Poe turned on his heel and meandered towards Ben, strolling with the whimsical boredom of cadet with too much time on his hands. "So…. What do you want to do today?"
He kinda-sort-of lost Han's list by the second round of 'slide down the garbage disposal chutes and look for monsters'. It was worth Ben's shrieking cackles.
Babysitting seemed to imply blanket forts. Poe had been nominated as caretaker for Ewok kits, Togrutas, Bothans, Rodians, and a Falleen, and all of them had sought the same enchantment: a place to hide and giggle and share secrets without the disturbance of adults. Poe had constructed caves out of tables, chairs, cooling units, and even the sanisteam when it proved convenient. (The six-year-old Mon Calamari was his soggiest job, and he was relieved when her parents finally found a babysitter of the same species.)
Ben didn't need a blanket fort – he wanted an Imperial base.
"I'm the captain and you're going to be the rebel spy," Ben informed Poe as he held his half of the blanket above his head. Still two feet short of the intended height, he grumbled when Poe reached for the corner and pinned it himself.
"Aren't you s'posed to be the Jedi?" Poe asked around a mouthful of ornate pins. (He promised he'd return them to Leia's dressing room before she returned.)
Sighing, Ben rolled his eyes. "I'm already a Jedi. This is pretend. Which means I have to be something different."
Aware of the imminent danger of self-impalement, Poe swiped the pins from his teeth and stuffed them into his shirt pocket. "Okay… So I shouldn't be a rebel, then. Do you want me to be an Imperialist?"
Flinging his head back, Ben sighed with more fervor. "If you're the bad guy then I have to be the good guy. Just play along, Poe!"
"Hm." Poe didn't understand the logic, but it was more sensible than the Mon Calamari girl trying to convince him that he could breathe underwater. (Creativity did have its limits.) "All right; I'm the rebel. Aren't you supposed to have a uniform, though?"
In the fifteen minutes it took him to finish pinning the blankets, Ben found a silver belt from his father's room, a black coat with dragging sleeves, and the ugliest hat Poe had ever seen.
"I made it out of one of Uncle Lando's caps," Ben said proudly as he arranged the upturned corners. "It's Imperialist."
Sons of the forsaken fashion, Poe hailed internally. "I didn't know they had … are those folds?"
"It doesn't matter, Poe!" Scowling, Ben held up a crooked spoon. "Now you're my prisoner. You should go inside."
"O-kay," Poe nodded affably and knit his hands behind his head. Ben continued to prod him with the makeshift 'blaster' until he was sitting against the wall inside the 'Imperial base'.
"Now I interrogate you," Ben announced. "You have to answer my questions truthfully, or…." He frowned in thought.
"Or… else?" Poe suggested.
"Or else!" Ben agreed. He straightened his shoulders, trying to look imposing. It didn't help that there was a one-eared stuffed leppi flopped on the floor beside his right knee.
After a few moments of silence, in which Ben chewed the inside of his cheek, Poe hinted, "You were planning to interrogate me?"
"I have to think of some questions first!" Ben snapped. His eyes brightened with inspiration and he jabbed Poe with the spoon. "Who do you work for?"
"An Ewok mastermind," Poe said, narrowing his eyes dramatically.
"No, Poe!" Ben slouched in frustration. "You have to be serious."
"I was being serious! Okay, fine. I'm a rebel. I'll never tell you who our leader is."
"That's better." Ben twirled the spoon contemplatively. He snapped upright and said with more force, "Where is your base?"
"Utapau."
"Poe!"
"I have to give an answer, right?" Poe spread his hands haplessly. "A real prisoner would lie to the Imperialists."
"Oh." Ben tilted his head sideways, scratched his nose with the spoon, and then nodded. "Very well. You say your base is on Utapau, but I know you're lying. Tell me where your base really is."
"An ice cream shop on Tatooine," Poe whispered.
"Poe!"
"Okay, okay!" Poe chuckled and restarted. "I will never give away the rebel location!"
"I will take it from you, then," Ben stated. He leaned forward and clapped a hand over Poe's head.
Craning to see Ben's fingers, Poe asked dubiously, "What are you doing?"
"I'm using the Force," Ben said pragmatically.
"That's cheating," Poe accused.
"No, it isn't."
"But I can't use the Force," Poe reasoned. "You have to make it an even battle if you want to prove that you're an evil mastermind."
"But bad guys always do that on the holonet," Ben whined, flopping his hands into his lap. "They make it fair and then the good guys pull a trick and make everyone else look stupid."
That's what the kid was learning from the holonet? Poe felt sorry for Master Skywalker. Awkwardly he cleared his throat. "Okay… so why don't you just stick to the questions? You'll trick me eventually and then I'll have to tell you everything."
Ben swung his head in defeat. "Ugh – fine." He slung the spoon out and punctuated, "What is your name, Rebel?"
"Poe Allen," Poe quipped at once.
"That's a lie! Tell me your real name, kung!"
"No name-calling – at least not with something your mom would wash your mouth for."
"Stop ruining everything!"
In the end, there was an improvised 'torture round' where Ben tied Poe's feet and attacked him with a feather, a string of questions with unsatisfactory results, and a break for 'Order 66 cookies', which were really ordinary biscuits that Ben climbed three shelves and the stove to retrieve. Han and Leia must have returned late in the night – Poe would never know.
He fell asleep an hour after Ben.
Still nestled in the child's sanctuary of blankets.
(Before Kylo Ren) (Ben is 14)
"This is stupid."
Leaning back in his seat, Poe pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply. Five minutes into "Han's piloting lessons" and there was a guaranteed wrangle brewing in the back of the Falcon.
Han's jaw tightened as he casually flicked a few knobs. "Just ignore him. See that indicator? You jump to hyperspace now and you'll blow the ship. She'll chart her own path, but don't push for time."
"I can't believe I'm here," Ben said louder.
"Ben, if I'd left you with your mother you'd be plotting diplomacies right now," Han fired back. "Buckle yourself in; I'm not fishing you out of the cargo hold when we jump to light speed."
"There's anti-gravity in here, Dad," Ben snarked. "It doesn't work like that."
A muscle twitched in Han's cheek. He looked torn between lecturing his son and triumphing that Ben knew something about the Falcon.
"Right…. Pay attention, Dameron," Han tapped Poe's arm and waved his hand over the controls. "Servo-drives, manual operations, you get the rest. It's a little more complicated than flying an X-wing; freighters are touchier overall."
"Yeah, 'cause we can't even fix the hyperdrive," Ben agreed.
"One more word from you and I'm sending you to your Uncle Luke's homestead," Han barked. He mumbled under his breath, "A few years in a moisture farm and he'll be as hairbrained and obliging as when Luke first joined the Rebellion."
"Servo-drives," Poe piped in, hoping to evade a storm.
"Indicators to your right," Han said. "I normally have Chewie do this, so mind you don't adjust the seat; he hates it when the cockpit isn't according to his fashion."
"Can I drive?" Ben leaned over Han's chair, squinting at the control panel.
Han spread his hands and pleaded with the stars for answers. "I offered you a chance just last week," he said exasperatedly. "You said you didn't have time for garbage disposals – quote!"
Ben curled his nose and hunkered over his father's chair. "I was just citing Mother."
"No, your mother calls it a scrapyard – and don't say you got it from Luke, because I know he has a separate vocabulary just for the Falcon."
"Are we … plotting a course?" Poe nudged hopefully. "Or… okay, we're just drifting," he established, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.
Ben rolled his eyes as Han jabbed towards the holochess table. "What did I say about running around the ship when we're in hyperspace, Ben Organa?"
"You never let me do anything! Why does Poe get to pilot?"
"I gave you a chance just last week! You volunteered to accompany us for this trip so long as – quote – you do as I say. Now sit down and give Poe some peace of mind."
"I'm not bothering him!" Ben shouted. "He likes it when I'm around! Tell him, Poe!"
"I …." Poe fumbled unhappily and Han jumped when he hesitated.
"I invited Poe because you like to spend time with him. You got a problem with him being here, we can cut this trip real short and drop him off on Dantooine."
"You're just saying that because he's a better pilot!" Ben screeched. "He can do everything better than me! That's why you like having him around."
"Yes! That's exactly why – no, that's an absurd delusion on your part," Han clarified. "Force, why are we getting into this right now?"
"Why don't you admit you just wanted another son?" Ben spat. "Why don't you admit you like Poe better than me?"
He spun around and flung his lightsaber against the wall. Clomping footsteps accompanied a howl of grief.
"Ben – Ben!" Han shouted. "Kriff, why do I always get him on the moody days?" He slung out of his chair and stalked towards the hall, ordering over his shoulder, "Don't let the Falcon drift!"
Carding a hand through his hair, Poe slid lower in his chair and sighed. He scanned the array of buttons and indicators, contemplated autopilot, and then wearily dragged himself upright.
Yeah, he could pilot anything.
Two hours later, Poe had hummed his way through every stupid song he had learned as a kid, successfully guided the Millenium Falcon into a triple summersault, discovered a bag of kismet cookies that were stale but still edible, chewed what fingernails had been allowed to grow past the bleeding stage, drawn up a mental list of names for his first permanent X-wing, charted fourteen possible collision courses and how far he could skim the Falcon alongside a supernova without exploding, and discovered what unusual gunk harbored in the creases of his ears.
Just when he was ready to call up Jess and complain about how bored he was, the door slid open and Han strolled inside with Ben tucked against him.
"Okay, kid," he said, squeezing Ben's shoulder briefly. "You ready to try your hand at this?"
Sniffling, Ben nodded. The redness in his eyes signified more than a jeopardized piloting experience. Poe smoothly stepped out of the way.
"All right, communications is on the right," Han said, casually passing a headset to his son. "Don't press any buttons you don't know."
"Kay." Ben nodded jerkily. He leaned into his father's voice like a starved sparrow.
Melting into the back, Poe slid behind the holochess table and strapped himself in. He listened to the clumsy conversation between father and son, and wrung his hands.
He'd never wanted to stand in the way.
(After Kylo Ren)
When Rey first took them for a test drive, Finn strapped himself in, muttered an agitated prayer, and exchanged an apprehensive look with BB-8. Poe twirled in the co-pilot's seat until Chewbacca loomed behind him.
"Fine. I get the point – I'm not allowed to drive." Swinging upright, Poe took a position behind Rey's chair and relaxed against the wall. He wondered if Chewbacca's growl seemed unhappy as he took the co-pilot's chair, but then again he was poorly versed in Wookie-lingo.
"Finn, stop panicking," Rey said curtly as she flicked the first controls. "I can't concentrate when you're thinking so hard."
"Now I'm thinking wrong?" Finn said haplessly. "Can we forget the Jedi whoodoo and go back to being normal people?"
"Here we go again." Poe rolled his eyes and shrugged at Chewbacca. "Pull the parking brake," he told Rey calmly.
"I'm saying that – yes, I know, Poe – I can sense your agitation and it's distracting me."
"You know what, just pilot," Finn retorted. He sat back crossly and folded his arms. "And I am not panicking."
"No, you only breathe faster because you're abnormally reactive to lightspeed," Rey scoffed.
"Parking brake," Poe reminded.
"Yes. I know." Disengaging the manual lock, Rey programmed the coordinates and looked to Chewbacca in confirmation before engaging the hyperdrive. Finn gripped the arms of his chair. Poe shifted to the other foot.
After the initial burst of speed, Finn breathed slower and Poe chewed a nail. Chebacca fiddled with a toggle, loneliness emphasized in occasional whimpers. Rey leaned back gingerly, feeling the same.
They both missed Han.
"You used to fly the Falcon," Rey said unexpectedly, looking back at Poe.
Thunderstruck, he shrugged. "I think I would remember that."
"You did," Rey established. "I spoke with General Organa. She says Han Solo taught you – that you could maneuver the ship on your own after only a few minutes of training."
Poe shook his head. "Not important," he said vaguely, covering up his bewilderment. If he had flown such a beauty – and under Han's tutelage, no less – he should have remembered. That hurt. Why would he take a harmless frivolity from me?
"Yes, it is important," Rey insisted. "You know more about Kylo Ren than any of us."
Finn swung his head in astonishment and Poe shot him a glance, requesting silence. "Not important," he emphasized quietly.
"Poe, whatever you learned about Ben Solo, we need to know," Rey asserted. Pleading wasn't in her nature, nor was politeness. He'd have to give her a few tips on political manners before she returned to Skywalker's training.
"Look, we don't need to discuss this right now," Finn interjected. He knew a little; everyone in the Resistance had their own rumors about Poe's 'tragedy' by now. Rey was the only one who remained oblivious. Finn tried to placate them all. "Why don't we just finish the pilot run, establish that 'teamwork' that General Organa wants, and save Kylo Ren for the next sabotage plan."
"Or we can undermine him now," Rey suggested. "We know his weaknesses. Poe, he's remained in contact with you all this time. He could be hiding on the next planet!" She smiled in delight. "What if we returned with more than information? What if we found him?"
Her childish hope was blinding, and all the more painful when Poe quenched her smile. "It's a brilliant thought, Rey… but I can't give you that information."
Confusion clouded hazel eyes. "What do you mean?"
"He means, he doesn't remember," Finn said gently.
A sharp inhale voiced Rey's mystification. "What?"
"Oh, don't talk as though I'm not in the room," Poe rebuked in a low voice. He rubbed his hands and clenched them, drawing on inner strength and finding none. "He took them from me," he finally summarized. "I can't remember anything about Kylo Ren."
Rey stood abruptly, bright eyes shimmering and devastated. Empathy quivered in her hand as she reflexively brushed a finger against Poe's temple. He felt the shift of power and instinctively shied away.
"He did that," Rey realized, and Poe knew she had suffered the same. How he envied her strength of mind.
"I don't have your luck." He shrugged, eager for the pity party to end. "I couldn't fight back."
"Poe, we're going to win this," Finn encouraged quietly. "It doesn't matter what happened. We'll find another way."
Rey was still lost in his pain. The scars she sensed even though he skirted from her hand. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I didn't know..." She stepped closer, a child determined to fix the galaxy, and Poe raised his hand.
"I could bring some of it back," Rey suggested hopefully. "It can't all be lost."
Poe closed her fingers and pushed her hand away, patting it in silent thanks. "I've lost a few memories, Rey – not my mind. Don't waste your time. … I think I'd rather keep him out of my head for good."
"You can't just forget something," Rey said, seething at the injustice. "Poe, I've lost so many years – I can't let you suffer the same. Let me try!"
Chewbacca lowed in agreement, and again Poe interpreted a strange grief in his rumble. Why should he be affected over my loss?
"That's enough, all of you," he insisted. "You never knew me before we met in the Resistance. Finn, that five minutes on Jakku doesn't count. I'm not missing anything, and neither should you. Can we drop this now?"
"But we can't –"
He cast Rey a bothered look, and she growled before flouncing into the pilot's seat. "You shouldn't ask this from us. It isn't fair."
Poe leaned across the back of her chair, catching her gaze in the reflection of the glass panel. He hoped she would sense his gratitude. "Stop trying to fix me, Rey. I'm Poe Dameron. Whoever Ben was, he hasn't changed anything." He smiled and bumped her shoulder, trying to shift the mood. "Now will you please give me a chance to fly this lovely queen?"
Rolling her eyes, Rey surrendered the pilot's seat. Chewbacca seemed oddly pleased.
In the resulting summersaults, Finn lost his lunch. Twice.
Poe's exhilaration only matched the crumbling of Starkiller Base. His fingers responded instinctively, almost as though he had steered the Falcon before.
Maybe he had. Maybe once, so long ago, Han Solo did teach him how to fly.
He told himself he didn't miss the difference.
That evening he contacted the frequency Kylo Ren had used to intercept Finn's comlink. He was surprised when the dark lord answered. Even more flabbergasted when Kylo Ren listened silently as he rattled off how absurd it was that he might have shared a childhood with the son of Han Solo. Shared a childhood, and never remembered.
Kylo Ren breathed in unsteadily, and Poe waited for his reply.
"You're a fool, Dameron," was the muted curse before Kylo Ren broke off communication.
.
.
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Thank you to Replica Velocity aka X5 714, Brievel, Bluemisery, Begoogled, Rasasvada98, Pinkychan2, CatWingsAthena, JunJunyil, Miss Corrine, CrazedFangirl13, Lazerkat, hellraiserphoenix, time2read, SilverclawRose, BAD WOLF1221, and guest Lunar Loon for reviewing!
(In response to guest Lunar Loon's review: Ben Organa Chewbacca Solo? Now I now why Kylo Ren changed his name.) X)