The victory celebrations continued in the backdrop as Zorii left the hangar, heading for the makeshift barracks that had been fashioned in the cave. It wasn't that she didn't feel up to a drink (hell, find her a time that a nip of skordu didn't go down well). The ecstatic rebels had made her feel more than welcomed, and still she'd stood on the sidelines, watching from beneath the safety of her helmet.

She was grateful. She ducked into the cave, following the stone walls into a quieter side room, set up with several cot beds, and set her rucksack down. Grateful for the victory, for the place to land, for the warmer climate of Ajan Kloss. It was a welcomed break to the ice cold air of Kijimi.

Air she'd never again breathe. Her city, her planet, her gang, her home; gone.

It was a sobering reminder amongst the songs of jubilation from outside the cave, and Zorii did her best to push aside the lump in her throat, instead focusing on carefully repacking the bag before her. She had no home anymore, no business, no anything other than her Y-wing, Babu Frick and what few precious belongings she could fit in that rucksack. It would have been liberating if it hadn't come at such a cost. To be free to roam the galaxy, to find herself a new venture. But the faces of the dead haunted her, and Zorii would have been lying if she'd said she greeted the prospect with any kind of enthusiasm. Kijimi, for all it's faults, had been home. It had been the backdrop to the story of her life, the highs, the lows, and now… now it was gone.

"Going somewhere?"

The sudden voice in the empty room made her jump, and just as her fingers had instinctively reached for her blaster, the man was raising his hands. She should have known he'd come to find her. She'd felt his eyes follow her as she'd disappeared into the crowd earlier, following their momentary meeting.

Poe stood only feet away from her. He'd changed from the dirtied flight suit she'd last seen him in, and managed to wash the filth of battle from his face; replaced it with a loose fitting shirt, slacks and boots, bandage still wound tightly around his arm. Finished off with the same smirk he always seemed to wear.

He looked good. He'd always looked good though; and hadn't he known it.

Even the sight of him so casual stung. Pulling at painful memories she had placed so carefully at the furthest point of her mind, memories she had no desire to return to. Memories of daytime heists, of night time runs. Of wins and losses. Of high speed chases and too close calls, and the way, despite it all, he'd smiled beneath that helmet and she'd felt so safe-

She may have forgiven his leaving in her own head, may have made peace with an understanding of why but her heart still demanded that it hurt.

Being left behind, watching as the ship he had stolen disappeared into light speed with barely more than a glimmer against the dark sky. Alone, amongst the snow and the noise of the Thieves' Quarter. Wishing so desperately to see him round the corner, to return to her.

Kriff.

And now here he was. Stood before her, watching her with those same damned eyes. There was a difference though. In the lines across his face, in the way he held his shoulders, in his very stare,. She saw it. He was different. Older, but that was no surprise; they'd been barely more than kids when they'd first met. No, something was different in those eyes. No longer Poe Dameron, Spice Runner of Kijimi, criminal and fugitive.

Now Poe Dameron of the Resistance. Hero pilot and victorious rebel leader.

"Shouldn't you be celebrating with your troops, General?" The vocoder caught the harsher edge of her words, but still he kept that damned little smile on his face, letting it play across his lips.

"Reckon they're not missing me too much right now. Alcohol's a more pressing need in a celebration than my company."

Despite it all, she longed to reach out and trace her fingers across his lips, to follow that smile - to remind herself, like turning the pages of a book she had once known without needing to read each word. How it had felt to have him hold her. How it had felt to be closer.

"If you came here to celebrate privately, you're out of luck." Her words were measured, careful, wary. He didn't scare her - the fear of letting him in once more did. "You're still not getting that kiss, Dameron."

Poe's sharp laughter rang out in the deserted space, shaking his head as he shrugged, the humour not quite reaching his eyes "Didn't come here expecting it, I promise." He shifted his weight from foot to foot almost nervously, glancing to her pack on the floor by her feet before looking back up. "Figured you'd be fixing to leave."

"With the First Order gone, the Resistance dies too. You're going to be knee-deep in politics by the end of the week and I'm no politician."

"Yeah…" Poe hesitated, as if uncertain of his words, before his shoulders sank as he sighed. "I'm sorry, Zorii. For leaving the way I did. For leaving you the way I did."

"You talking this time, or the last time?" There was a grimace across the man's face at her words, and Zorii couldn't help the more gentle follow up that slipped by her lips after a moment's hesitation - he'd asked her to come with him, after all. "Spent a lot of nights wondering what the hell I'd done wrong."

Poe's eyes left hers once more, tongue flicking across his lips as he ducked his head. "It was never your fault."

"I know. You gained some morals. Remembered who you were. And now, here you are. You're General Dameron, hero of the Resistance. Going down in the history books while the rest of us are still just… us."

"Some people are better as they are." There was a pause once more, before Poe continued, watching her with a measured gaze. "We could sure use someone with your skills around here… and what with Kijimi-"

"What use have the Resistance got for a spice runner like me?" The sharpness made a swift return to her voice at the mention of the planet, another painful reminder of just how many she'd failed.

"You're capable of a lot more than that, Zorii."

"Am I?" Zorii gave a soft snort of disagreement, turning back to continue her packing. "The gang's gone, Poe. I'm not sure any of them made it out. The ones the troopers didn't butcher anyway. Saw them cut down Jarraban in the snow. Lluda stayed behind. Viggo was going to try and go underground…" She trailed off, hand stilling as it met her blaster, frowning at each memory that passed as she turned the weapon over. All of the faces, gone in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly, Poe was closer, so much closer. Close enough that when she turned could see the way each breath caught, the way his stubbled jaw tensioned. Closer than they had been on that rooftop on Kijimi, where she'd stayed just far enough back to pretend she hadn't noticed all those little changes. Where the urgency of his hunt for Babu, of getting the damned droid to speak Sith, of dodging stormtroopers and escaping the First Order had given her an excuse to avoid asking him everything she-

His hand reached out and met her own, covering it where she held the blaster.

He smelt of static. Of leather jackets and metal cockpits and that earthy chypre that seemed to follow him. Of ozone. Like the smell of an arriving storm.

Poe Dameron had always been the storm, rolling in like the summer rains; the thunder in his laughter, the lightning in his eyes. So beautiful, and yet so capable of bringing down the very heavens if he cared.

"You can stay here."

"This is your world, Poe. Not mine. I don't belong here any more than you belonged on Kijimi."

"You could."

Another scoff left her lips. "I'm not-"

"Stay here. With me." Poe's voice was more firm, despite the gentleness of his hand against her own. The rough pads where his hands so easily worked a cockpit, traces of oil and soot still snaked amongst the cracks. "When that shot hit Kijimi, all I could think of was you… and that I'd left you behind. Again. I don't want to make the mistake of doing that for a third time."

Zorii stared at him from behind the visor for several long moments, before she pulled her hand away from his. The momentary look of hurt on his face passed as her fingers reached for the hidden clasps below her jaw, and the slow hiss of the locks filled the silence as she lifted the plated helmet from her head. The warm air meeting her skin as she shook her hair free and when her eyes rose once more, Poe was simply staring down at her, his eyes the size of moons. His gaze seemed to roam her face so slowly, as if piecing together the memory of a treasure map; delicately following point to point as if afraid yet full of wonder...

And once more, she was with him on those frozen nights on Kijimi. Tucked away from the noise of the outside world. The warmth of his skin against hers, buried beneath layers of furs and pressed together so closely she could have sworn they were one. The smoothness of his curls between her fingers, the sharpness of dark stubble across his jaw. The way the warm oil lamp light danced across his face. The quiet murmur of his voice against her ear as she lay in his embrace.

The softness of his lips against hers.

The safety, the quiet she found in his dark eyes.

The same eyes that so desperately pleaded with her now, watching her for any sign of a hint. His lips seemed to almost form words and she wondered if he was doing the same; remembering when this hadn't felt so strange, when being together was as easy as drawing breath. When he'd promised her the galaxy and all that came with it. When they'd had each other, amongst it all.

Maybe his eyes weren't so different after all.

"What are you staring at, spice runner?" She forced the words past the vulnerability in her voice, the familiarity so bittersweet, and breaking their gaze only to set the helmet down.

"You." The choked word left the man's lips with an honesty he could not have mustered falsely, and the hoarse whisper was enough for her. "You are-"

"Shut up, Poe." Zorii closed the gap between them in one move and her lips met his in a blindingly fierce kiss. Whatever words he had prepared died in his throat as Poe's arm curled about her waist, the other hand rising to cup her cheek and his kiss was as desperate as her own.