(Before Kylo Ren) (Ben is ... ? ? ? years old)
It was hard to miss the collapse of the new Jedi Order. Poe suspected that Leia would have tried to hide it from him for as long as possible, but the holonet was rampart. He'd been tinkering with an Alderaan cruiser model that he had found in an antique shop, pondering giving it to Ben as a "sorry can we be friends again" present for his next birthday, when the transmission fizzed and an "urgent message" sprang into view.
At first Poe thought it was a relay of the old drills from the Empire and the Rebellion. They still liked to replay footage on the anniversary of the Death Star's destruction. When the dark figure turned, flanked by soldiers armored in white, the Alderaan cruiser cracked on the floor. Poe kicked the pieces aside in his scramble.
It's not – no, it can't be – Ben, what are you doing?
He clung to the desk, knees quaking and eyes flickering in synchronization with the hologram. Images replayed in the background. Recordings. Children and elders with swords of blue and green light, massacred by an army of stormtroopers.
"Ben!" Poe choked when he saw him in the midst of them. He couldn't be dead – not with all of them – he had to have escaped.
The holoimage returned to the dark figure, who flung off a plated steel mask. Poe's lungs ached and he sucked in a reedy, pent gasp.
"My name is Kylo Ren…." The figure spoke and Poe flung his tool chest aside, searching the mess for his comlink. "The Jedi are no more. I have established an order of armistice between the New Republic and the Imperial …."
"Ben!" Poe exclaimed into the comlink, begging his friend to answer. "Ben!"
The boy in the dark cloak was older. A mane of black air haloed piercing, insensitive eyes. He was Ben Solo, and everything that denied the kid Poe knew.
"Ben!" Poe shouted, gasping a sob when the drone persisted. No… no, please no….
Hours later he switched off the holonet. His feet ached from pacing. His comlink was glitching, flung against the wall and retrieved, only to be thrown aside again and again. He sank into the chair and dragged his hands through his hair.
His eyes fell on the Alderaan cruiser.
Rising swiftly, Poe kicked it across the room and grabbed his jacket.
When he returned late the next day, with an empty fuel tank and a heart that still ached, Leia pulled him aside.
"I would have told you…"
Her condolences and shared pain did nothing to assuage him. He returned to his room in a daze, scanning the bunk and the storage compartments without seeing anything. A strange thought made him wonder if Ben's room still looked the same as when he was fourteen. Whirling, he smashed his knife against the wall.
His own irrationality stopped him short and he stood in the middle of his room, gasping. Shakily Poe stooped and retrieved the blade, folding it gently and returning it to his pocket. There would be another dent in the handle if he wasn't careful.
Memories swarmed his mind and he pressed a fist against his mouth until his lips ground against his teeth. He didn't do it. Not Ben. It wasn't him.
Ben.
When Han left without warning, Poe felt another piece of his former life break away.
When he wandered into the dining hall the next day and Jessika ordered canron, he shoved his untouched plate over to Ech'ban and walked out.
He didn't return for years.
As it turned out, the Republic needed pilots as much as the burgeoning Resistance. He could defend them without being assuaged by memories. The Rapiers were just as imperative to General Solo as a solo pilot in her army.
Maybe he was doing Leia a favor. He'd already messed up with Ben enough that it was hard to tell the difference anymore.
Sometimes it was harder to pick up the pieces and keep moving forward, than to simply look ahead and forget.
(Aftermath)
He saw Rey turn away, hazel eyes parched with reproach as he reached for a dark-eyed stranger. The black robe slipped from his hands.
A model AT-AT veered across the table, accompanied by a child's "vroooom!"
He saw BB-8 wobble uneasily, and then totter away. His knees cracked on Dantooine sand as he cried out for his buddy to return.
A few weeks after Ben stomped out of his room in disappointment, Poe found a painted helmet in the trash compacter. The white grooves in the mask still unnerved him.
He saw General Organa standing in the distance, pressing her fist against her mouth. Before he could turn he felt cold heat split his back, and Leia knelt to scoop up the black cloak.
Three lightsabers were scrapped within a month. According to Ben, it wasn't right if it wasn't perfect.
He saw Finn stare at him incredulously, before the former stormtrooper flung his blaster into the dust. He tried to reason, tried to understand it for himself, but he was left standing alone amidst the dunes.
Han used to corral Poe and Ben together before 'family outings'. He had funny sayings, like "Until I get a tracker on you, kid, you're staying with us". Often Poe wondered if that meant something to him, or if Han was just kidding around like he did with Master Skywalker.
He saw a rough pilot's jacket and brown hair sifted with grey, with a lined face energetic with compassion, and then an old man who tried to figure out why he was so composed. The Resistance base bled into plains of grit and Han waved him off before vanishing in a sand storm.
Leia was a terrible cook. Her favorite Alderaan attempt was a gooey, vanilla flavored pastry that always turned out half-unbaked. Ben smothered it in cream and picked at the lumps. Choking it down wasn't ever as bad as Poe expected – somehow Leia's relieved smile made everything taste decent.
He bowed his head, accepting the shame of his failure. Luke ponderously shook his head as the electricity flickered behind him. He left Poe in the dark, with a black cloak bunched in his hands.
Chewbacca used to ruffle his hair until he felt dizzy – it noticeably gentled after the first concussion. The Wookie was there after Poe's first flight nearly a year after the Y-wing Incident. He didn't wait for Poe's wobbly legs to manage the X-wing ladder – just lifted him up by his collar and set him down like a tilted mooka. Poe didn't have the dignity to gripe; he was too happy that he reached the bottom without toppling in front of Ben (again).
He stepped towards Chewbacca anxiously, hoping that out of all of them, the Wookie would understand. With a low rumble of confusion Chewie lowered his bowcaster and shuffled back. Frustrated, Poe shouted at him to listen. He clawed his hands through his hair as Chewbacca drew away, voicing hurt. He was left alone by the burning heap of his general's command ship, a black cloak rumpled by his feet.
Ech'ban and Jess always teased when Poe was called on "babysitter duty". One evening a week it seemed, and sometimes every other afternoon, Leia offered an embarrassed smile while Ben marched Poe into his room, where he emphatically demonstrated his "important words" while they discussed lightsabers or holochess tactics or whether or not tauntauns were really immune to frost.
He gave up trying, just stood there as Jess squeezed his hand and then drifted away. Snap 't'ched' and followed her. They had sworn they would follow him anywhere. All that was left was a swathe of black in his hands, and that too was stained.
He felt pain in his back. Deep into his lungs; it hurt to breathe. He heard voices calling, but surely they had all left him in the folds of the black cloak.
He saw Ben, whispered his name, and almost cried out when Ben stepped forward and pulled the cloak away, gripping his hand.
"I promise it won't hurt."
He heard the whisper, and felt lies twist through his back. He fell, pillowed against Kylo Ren, his last touch and the cruelest embrace.
"Don't be afraid…."
He wasn't. It was easier to let go after the sands of betrayal swallowed his last friend.
He let go, but he wasn't released.
He woke trying to swallow, tubes squeaking in his throat, hands flailing for something to grasp, tears breaking out of eyes that itched and stung. He arched and the movement burned deep in his back. Too much stimulation. He whimpered, gagging, screaming for someone to appear and make everything stop. His hand flopped against another and suddenly it was pulled down, words clattering as a dark face blurred above him.
He tried to answer and choked.
"No, no! Poe, stop – it's okay – the droid is gonna give you something for the pain. It's going to be fine – Dang it – Kriff – what's taking that droid so long? Poe, listen, it's a breathing tube. Just relax and it won't feel so cramped. They forced one on me, remember? It's not fun when you yank it out of your nose, so don't try it. It hurts. Like, a lot."
Babbling. Involuntary tears washed out the irritating substance that was gumming his eyes, and he finally saw Finn. He shut his eyes again. So many useless gestures whenever Finn was talking. It was dizzying sometimes, kind of like Ben when the teenager used to demonstrate how the Solos' favorite little brown-haired girl walked when she was exclaiming over 'fowers' and 'beebee' and every 'pwetty' thing she saw, from Ben's hair to Luke's 'boo blade'.
But no, the images smarted his eyes again, and he clung to Finn's hand to ground himself as fresh wounds opened. Ben with a knife. His knife. Ech'ban holding Finn down.
"Poe, it's okay. You hear me? It's okay. You're going to be fine. We got you."
Finn would be good for Rey, if he knew half a page about hydrospanners. He'd make a better medical droid, come to think of it. Less jabbing of sharp objects, more comfort. Poe was tired of people stabbing him.
He tried to speak, managed a horrible sound, and sighed when Finn looked over his shoulder. "Uh, yeah, she's in the 'fresher. I mean Rey – that's who you wanted, right?"
He wanted answers, but he wasn't going to be given them now. Beeping drew Finn's attention to the ground. With an uncertain grimace the former stormtrooper rose, stooped, and grunted as he hauled a bobbing orange and white droid into his chair. BB-8 shrieked in delight and launched into a series of dreebles that skirted Poe's dictionary. He trailed a finger along the battered dome and blinked twice.
Hey, buddy.
"I think Rey should be done soon," Finn said apologetically. He paused and shook his head. "This is really awkward."
Yeah. Poe agreed. Drifting now….
He woke again to Rey's sharp tones. "I can't believe they're letting him live. Who's to say he won't escape and kill someone else?"
Finn cleared his throat and Rey looked to Poe, her mouth falling in a soft 'oh'.
"We were worried," she said in a rush. "You were feverish, even after Master Luke stopped the wound. We thought you would die."
Your bedside conversation is always encouraging, Poe thought, while Finn rubbed a hand over his face.
"Yeah, I think he gets that," Finn muttered.
"I'm glad you're awake," Rey countered. She smiled, reached out, and haltingly brushed Poe's hair.
Right gesture, he wanted to encourage. Baby steps for the Jakku native.
"We were worried," Rey tried again.
"General Organa's been checking in every hour," Finn intercepted. "She can't stay, but if you hold on a little longer we can….."
He woke again and the tube was gone, and his throat felt as though a rancor had slashed him down to the lungs. He looked to the side, hoping someone had left a glass of water and maybe he could lift his hand far enough to tip it onto his face. He stilled when he saw the bowed shoulders, the lined face, the greying hair falling out of its rigid style. She looked so worn, even while sleeping, and he tried to tell her that it was okay, that she didn't have to worry about him, that he was going to heal and be flying soon and he'd be more careful next time, but he could only snag a finger in the cloth of her sleeve. She didn't stir, and he couldn't fight any longer.
When he woke again, it was to the sound of his name.
"Enough lazing around, Dameron. I haven't spent half a lifetime down here to watch you snore while my soldiers work the double night shift."
He obeyed, and tears accompanied Leia's smile as she smoothed a hand through his hair. "Welcome back, Poe."
He finally had the strength to ask, and he wouldn't. She didn't need to tell him.
Once, long ago, General Leia Organa Solo had loved two sons.
Both were lost.
Only one had returned to her.