Today's memory scene comes from Judge1964, who suggested an instance where Ben drags (a highly reluctant) Poe into a lightsaber duel. Have some drama and angst. ;)

(Before Kylo Ren) (Ben is 12)

"Uh… maybe that's… not a good idea."

"Come on, Poe!" Ben exclaimed, rolling his eyes with such a laborious sigh that one would have thought he was already a Jedi Master, chastening his pupil for stepping carefully around a mud puddle. "Adheet uses an electrostaff, and you practice with her. It's no different!"

"Ah, Adheet doesn't practice, she lays forth a challenge," Poe clarified vaguely. When a girl pulled out a bostaff and said 'fight me,' there was no backing off politely; you either suffered the concussion or bargained with chocolate. Ech'ban had selfishly stockpiled an emergency stash before last month's full moon and he refused to share, which meant that Poe had to learn to dance around another weapon. Cheers for his aching head.

"Fine. I'm laying forth the challenge," Ben said regally. "Just take it, Poe. It's not like we don't have extras in the training room."

"Does Master Skywalker know you have this?" Poe asked, queasily looking over his shoulder. Any minute a droid is gonna walk in here and start panicking.

"Poooee!" Ben wheedled. "You said you'd help me practice my Jedi techniques."

"Honestly, I thought you meant meditating, or sneaking figda from the cafeteria," Poe admitted lamely. Something along the lines of devious and diabolical, but not necessarily perilous in the hands of the inexperienced. What if he cut off the kid's hand or something?

"You fall asleep every time I meditate!" Ben griped. "Stop making excuses, Poe. If you want to help me, just take the kriffing lightsaber."

"Don't ever let your mom hear you say that," Poe warned, grimacing as he snatched the shiny cylinder. It felt strange in his hand; smooth and light, without the natural grip of a blaster.

"Fine, take the dafted lightsaber," Ben snipped, sticking out his tongue. "Honestly, no one says that but you, Poe." He ignited his own blue blade, bracing his feet in an exaggerated stance. Poe wasn't a swordsmaster, but he figured from Adheet's lessons that one decent jab could bowl the kid over if he extended his foot that far out.

"Okay… how does this turn on….?" Orange exploded from the cylinder and Poe stumbled back, blinking spots out of his vision. "Ow!"

"Don't point it at your face, doofus! You could've put your eye out!"

"Now he tells me," Poe moaned, fingering a scorched lock that was nearly accompanied by the skin of his forehead.

"Everyone knows that," Ben scolded. "Don't you ever watch real lightsaber duels? They're not cartoon laserbrains waving glowsticks at battle droids."

"Yes, I know what a real lightsaber is," Poe grouched, shaking his head one last time and settling into a careful stance. "So who starts first? I start first? You start first?"

"Wait, wait!" Ben interrupted, worry eclipsing his young face. "We have to decide who we are first."

Oh, right. Imperialist vs. Rebel. Definitely important. "Okay…. I guess I'm Red Five again," Poe decided. Easy enough, since Luke Skywalker was already a Jedi.

"Not like that, Poe!" Ben said, gritting his teeth in frustrated concentration. "We have to be old Jedi. Like Anakin Skywalker. You can be Obi-Wan."

"Obi-Who?"

"I dunno, some old guy my parents named me after." Ben shrugged, raising the lightsaber to his left shoulder. "So fight me, Obi-Wan Kenobi!"

"Wait, does that mean you've picked Anakin, then? Did we establish that? I kinda missed out on the final – Whoah!" Staggering back as a blue laserbeam flashed in his face, Poe jabbed out tentatively, aiming for the opposing weapon and hoping he didn't burn the kid's fingers. "This doesn't feel very safe, Ben!"

"It's a battle. It's supposed to be dangerous. Yaah!" Ben turned his flip into a kick to Poe's arm, and the pilot had to remind himself to go against his instincts, brushing the kid away with his hand instead of his weapon. The impact still jarred his arm and sent Ben sprawling. Kriff, when did little Benny hit a growth spurt?

"Come on, Poe, you're not playing right!" Ben howled, lunging from the floor and fairly smashing his lightsaber into the wall as Poe ducked. "Fight me, not the saber!"

"These things are low power, right?" Poe squawked, catching the blade on vibrating orange and veering it to the right. If that wall was any indication, there was a plausible chance that either survivor would be frequenting the medcenter for the next month.

"Yes, Dameron," Ben drawled impatiently. He skittered to Poe's left, twisting a feint into a nasty overhead strike. Poe dropped to one shoulder, grimacing as bone met duracrete, and sprang to his feet in time to catch the next blue rush.

Okay, focus. It's just a game. Make sure the kid has fun and nobody dies. Piece of cake.

He dropped his arms a fraction, thinking back to lasersword fights with sticks, and space pirate games he only half-remembered. Who was he kidding, those were poor applications to a fight with a genuine, trained warrior, even if that lightsaber-wielding upstart was only two-quarters his own height. Just keep it friendly. Couple of glow rods swinging around in a very large, empty room, with no supervision. Everything's gonna be fine.

He let Ben lead the fight, parrying against strikes that shook his arms and wobbled his balance. The kid wasn't pulling any punches. He fought like he lived, driven and centered, determined to be the very best. Poe could give him that victory. He kept moving, balancing with his feet like Adheet showed him, choosing to deflect the onslaught rather than absorb the blows.

This is actually kinda fun, he had to admit, grinning as he ducked under a swing that left Ben's side wide open. He could've tapped the kid's ribs and called it a round, but Ben didn't play that way. The Jedi was supposed to win, not Old Obi.

Upwards parry, backstep, a side block to counter a vengeful lunge – another parry and the movement seemed curiously natural. He could almost anticipate the next gathering of Ben's limbs; expect where the next volley would direct. The lightsaber became an extension of his arm, pushing Ben's blade away and dancing aside lest he injure in turn. Speed and light and a blaze of orange; it was almost like flying.

Ben's face abruptly twisted in a vexation and he snapped three quick strikes, growling when Poe dodged them and darted away. Poe frowned, shaking the ache out of his wrist. This was supposed to be fun.

"Had enough?" he asked genially, hoping to curb the game before it curdled Ben's morning. "I think I've had enough."

Something flashed across Ben's eyes, shading them nearly black. With an aggravated yell he pounced, his lightsaber a sudden blur. Flashing strokes knocked Poe's blade aside and twisted it from his hands, hot air singing millimeters above his wrists. A kick to the jaw sent him sprawling. Pulsing blue light jabbed down to throb in front of his nose.

"Whoah… whoah, Ben," Poe murmured, spreading his hands out carefully. "Kay, you win. Game over. Nice moves, huh?"

Night-pitch eyes leeched into hickory brown and Ben blinked rapidly, staggering back. "I… I didn't…."

"Ben!" Vaulting steps were followed by a clang as Han launched himself over the staircase railing, dashing forward in three long strides and snatching his son under the arms, swinging him away from Poe. "What the kark are you doing?"

Crying out indignantly, Ben slapped at the hands restraining him. "Let go of me! I wasn't hurting him!"

"Where the heck did you get a lightsaber?" Han shouted at Poe. "You two weren't even supposed to be down here without Master Luke! Didn't you even check to see if the safety was on those things?"

"No - no sir, we didn't," Poe breathed, rushing to his feet and grabbing for the fallen lightsaber.

"Gimme that," Han ordered, snatching the hilt from Poe's hands. "You had no business playing around with these."

"It's not fair!" Ben gnashed as his own blade was taken away. "We were just practicing!"

"These aren't toys!" Han answered, jabbing his index finger in Ben's sullen face. "You never, ever use a lightsaber against a civilian!"

"It was my fault," Poe called above the noise. "I should've – "

"That's a lie!" Ben screeched at his father. "Poe's Force-sensitive and you know it! Luke just doesn't want to train him!"

Gaping under the random assault, Han stammered for a moment before repeating, "Force – Kid, you have no idea what it means to be a Jedi! You think that just because someone grows up around a sensitive tree he automatically wants a lightsaber? Being a Jedi means choosing to accept a lifetime of – "

"I don't care what it means!" Ben interrupted, standing toe-to-toe against his father. "Mom was a Jedi and no one made her give up anything! Why does everyone expect me to be perfect?" Wrestling his lightsaber from Han's grip, he flung it across the room and bolted, a howl of rage echoing against the high ceiling.

"What the heck was that about?" Han beseeched. He threw up his hands, looking at Poe in almost an afterthought. "What was that about?"

"I don't know, Sir," Poe admitted, looking guiltily at the streak marks in the walls and wondering how deep he'd dug himself this time. "I'm sorry, Sir. I should've stopped it."

"Don't give yourself so much credit," Han muttered. He turned the lightsaber curiously in his hands, gritting his teeth when he flicked the blade into life. Extinguishing it immediately, he fixed Poe with a look that the pilot had only seen directed at Adnerem kidnappers. "You know you could've killed him with this?"

Dismay cloyed Poe's throat and he shook his head, a sudden tremor clamming his hands. Han's jaw twisted and he spun around, swinging the lightsaber over his head. A sudden rush of orange ignited, scouring three feet of molten scar into the durasteel floor. Too many close calls clicked in Poe's mind and he sat down heavily, the training room weaving in his vision.

"Don't ever, ever play with a Jedi's weapon!" Han snapped, stalking over to retrieve Ben's discarded lightsaber. "Next time you try something foolhardy like that, I'm sending you back to Yavin 4. Understood?"

His teeth were clattering too hard to answer. Poe nodded jerkily, fixated on the mauled floor. I could've… Oh Force, if I'd tapped him one time…..

Han didn't check up to see if his warning had been taken seriously. He didn't need to.

Poe never touched a lightsaber again.

(Aftermath)

"Is it too much to ask for you Jedi to use the regular comm when you want to get ahold of me?" Poe griped the moment he swung out of the cockpit, rattling down the steps two at a time. He used to sling himself over the rail like a Kowakian monkey-lizard. The First Order had taken that away from him, too.

Having graced the hangar with mystical, Forcey presence, Luke seemed taken aback by the accusation. A subtle nudge of invisible cushioning kept Poe from slipping on the the final rung. One more undesired condescension.

"I would never initiate mental contact during a confrontation," Luke insisted, raising one eyebrow at the frosty glare sent his way.

"Must've been a glitch in the force," Poe grumbled. A very loud one, at that. General Solo was becoming more insistent by the day.

"Poe, are you...?" The awkward trail of silence implied everything from 'Are you sleeping enough?' to 'Are you sure you're sane enough for this mission?' Luke could respond as blatantly as Rey these days, but compassion seemed to soften his shrewd insights. Rather than challenge Poe's mental health, he inquired, "What did you hear?"

Receiving the question from a Jedi Master did extraordinary things for Poe's self-doubt. He'd forgotten how intuitive Luke was back at the academy; watchful and unbiased whenever the initiates had some crazy dream. Shrugging away the rigidness in his shoulders, Poe said evenly, "Nothing. The comlink was fizzing a bit. I'll have Ech'ban - Tico look into it."

Cursing the mental slip-up, he slapped his helmet onto a crate and slipped past the hangar doors. No wonder everyone thinks I've lost my equilibrium. Could he help it that not even six weeks after his best mate fried his ship and delivered him to the First Order for slaughter, a fleet of Star Destroyers was dogging their trail again? There wasn't time for coping. First instant he could swing his legs off the bunk he was polishing maneuvers for the next invasion.

This is probably unhealthy, Poe mused, nudging past the onslaught of frantic mechanics. Small wonder Rey cast him reproachful glances at every opportunity. First thing after we find a new base, I'll take a day off. Find a nice patch of lake where there aren't any sharp-toothed minnows and paddle until sunset.

Or maybe he'd just take Rey to a toy shop. He needed to see kids having fun again.

Ben was always gobsmacked silent in a hobby shop, the thought came unbidden. Wide brown eyes and slack jaw as a child's face twisted with indecision, as if he had to choose one model when Han had a metaphorical crate full of credits and a day off to spoil his kid.

Poe missed those days.

"Poe! Poe!"

That steady, rhythmic lope only belonged to Finn. While the Resistance might have taught him to think freely, the First Order had drilled his efficient stride. Poe turned with a quirked smile, shoving back the frustration of a fruitless skirmish. We could've done it, General. We didn't have to run.

"You made it!" Finn exclaimed. "You should've seen that jump you made. That was amazing!"

Poe chuckled, his back aching as he matched Finn's energetic strides. "Yeah, that was pretty awesome."

"General Organa looked ready to shoot you," Finn rambled, "But then Luke said we needed to equip all the fighters just like that for a tactical advantage. The general might give you a promotion after this."

"We gotta get out first," Poe murmured. So they'd escaped one skirmish. The First Order would still dog them from one system to the next, and soon enough the Dreadnaught would be repaired. They had days at most.

"Rey was meditating with Luke the whole time," Finn continued. "Some Jedi whoodoo about protecting the fighters. You were one of the last ones in."

A sharp reverberation under his feet and a whine in the walls told Poe that the jump to lightspeed was in motion. Score one for a successful evacuation. Score zero for wiping out the opposing team.

"Good one there, Dameron," called Lieutenant D'jar, slapping him on the shoulder as they passed one another. "Wish we had ten more commanders like you."

This is doing wonders for my ego, Poe thought drolly, a jolt of pride bolstering his clipped stride. He saluted more confidently as he passed one of the senior commanders, receiving a nod of approval. Yet the hollowness lingered inside. This could have been a triumph. Instead we're still running away with our tails tucked.

A hand latched onto his shoulder - contact without preamble - and once again he knew the interceptor without a backwards glance. There was something wild and sturdy in Rey's quick steps, as though even now the durasteel plates might sift under her feet and swallow her alive. Her grip was uneasy and forced, a reminder to herself that normal people exercised physical contact as an expression of care.

Exhilaration colored Rey's cheeks as she swung Poe around, questions teaming in hazel eyes. "How did you do it? I felt the sky burst in the Force. No one's ever taken an X-wing past its capacities like that before."

"Just a few tweaks to the hyperdrive," Poe shammed, even as Finn burst out, "Look, I wanna know about thruster impulse stuff, same as anyone else, but General Organa wants you there for debrief and I swore I'd bring you right back."

As soon as he had Poe marching forward he inquired brashly, "So it's hyperdrive modifications, right?

"Commander Dameron." Leia's gruff herald was followed immediately by a curt, "I gave you strict orders not to engage the fleet in a suicide mission."

"You asked for a distraction," Poe retorted, adding on a hasty, "General," to soften the argument.

"You senselessly skirt around your commanding officers - repeatedly," Leia said. "You think you can modify one flyer and outmaneuver a battleship? Open your eyes, Dameron! Five more minutes and the entire First Order would have opened fire on us!"

Shaking her head, she huffed softly and admitted, "I don't know what we'd do without your irresponsible, thickheaded luck."

"So he did something right?" Finn squawked. "You're not gonna demote him or something?"

"Not this time," Leia said, folding her arms in a thinly veiled threat. "Tempting, though." Straightening, she expressed, "I'll say it this one time; you actually had a plan that worked. Now we'll just see how far we can stay ahead of "General Hugs.'"

"Shouldn't be too difficult," Commander Meerk said. "He can't track us through light speed."

"We have their commanding officer," Leia reminded him soberly. "Never underestimate the First Order."

Rigid silence stilled the early celebration among the senior officers. Some of them looked down at the controls, others towards the passing stars. Few without hate. No family among the Resistance was untouched by Kylo Ren's ardency for the First Order.

Once more Poe reminded himself that he was only another victim. One more gullible soul hardened by war. It had never been personal.

Then why did he single me out among all the rest?

"We've outlasted this firefight," Leia announced somberly. "Now we survive. I want blackout starting immediately. No energy readouts. Emergency systems only. Until the First Order sweeps this sector, we disappear."

"The fleet is ready at your command," Admiral Ackbar announced. "By Endor's moon, we will prevail."

The general rolled her eyes. "Spare me the old battle speeches, Admiral. You all have your orders: survival above engagement. Until Snokes is overthrown, we who are left must continue to spread hope to those who stand against the First Order. We are the galaxy's only hope."

"So much for avoiding speeches," Poe mumbled.

"What was that, Commander?"

"We're right behind you, General," he praised.

Finn cast him an incredulous glance, and Poe rolled his eyes. Honestly, a guy lights up for one instant and the universe thinks he's hit the treeline. This was why the proverb circled around, 'War heroes never win.'

General Organa didn't share his sentiments when she cornered him after the debrief. "I miss your sense of humor, Dameron, but undermining me in a critical debrief is not going to see you ungrounded. You're mopping all the landing strips once we hit base. And not just the paved ones."

"I thought we ditched cleaning ops after the Jakku mission," Poe said with soft nostalgia.

It was the wrong jest to make. Guilt and crippled hope wrangled in Leia's eyes, and before Poe could flinch she brushed a palm against his cheek, her stance gathering as though she might press his head to her shoulder to shield him from harm.

If I had known, her thoughts bled into wounded brown eyes. Yet neither she nor Poe were so naive. She had suspected a trap, and she had prayed for better tidings. They had both played the fool, running after a fyrnock and beckoning it to join them in the sunlight. Sooner or later, the darkness had to lash out.

Poe should never have allowed it to come so far. Leia was automatically compromised, yearning to bring her son home.

He should have known better.

"I'll catch the Wings up to the flight plan; start making some adjustments to the engines," Poe mumbled, jabbing idly over his shoulder. I know your pain, and you can't fix me. We can pretend it never happened, right?

Resignation slumped the general's proud stance. "Report back to me before the third shift, Commander," she said wearily. "We're not out of this yet."

So that was that. They'd agree not to talk, and time would move on. Things simply couldn't be the same anymore.

Shuffling back to the hangar, Poe stopped to scoop up a discarded hydrospanner, wondering which imbecilic bludfly had been careless with the tools. He scowled when he saw a significant dent in the base. Someone had deliberately chucked this against the wall. Anger management wasn't a key tactic among some of the Trandoshan pilots, but Poe's squadron knew better than to take it out on the equipment. It wasn't like they could stop at the nearest outpost for spare parts.

Ten years ago, there was a brat who had no respect for Y-Wings and communications hubs. Or holochess tables. Or astromech droids. Or helpless villagers on a desert planet.

Poe's eyes landed on the helmet resting on the crate beside his X-wing. White with blue streaks, it still sported the faded scrawl of a child's handwriting. It was a birthday present.

He booted it across the hangar, ignoring the startled cry from Jess and the twinge that rippled across his back. Clenching his fists, he stalked from the hangar, letting his feet carry him where they willed.

The thrice-dafted forces that perpetually cheated his existence would steer him straight towards the cell block where the most feared being in the galaxy brooded in the darkness. Letting out a terse breath, Poe stared at the durasteel door that barred a bleak and sterile corridor, with unmarked doors lining both sides of the hall.

He wouldn't.

He didn't want to.

He could walk away.

...

He had to know.

Thank you to cheesemaster112, Daere, and Judge1964 for reviewing! :D Comments are my inspiration!