Come the end of his reclamation, FN-2187 was but a shell of his past self. He was desperate to break free of the rigid caste that encased his mind, to be able to fight for his own cause – do what he thought was right. But he could not.

With his back against the smooth, cold metal of his holding cell, he tilted his gaze upwards; there were no windows in the tiny room, no possible way to tell the time of day or to keep track of any measure of time. It seemed to stand still in the cell; the emptiness enhanced only by the unavoidable silence that seemed to weigh him down.

FN-2187 didn't utter a word. Instead, with his teeth gritted together, he rolled his shoulders, wincing in pain as the edges of the lesions on his back pulled themselves apart as the muscle beneath shifted.

His signature white armour had been removed for the purpose of reconditioning, leaving the trooper with only a black undershirt and trousers. The holding cell was cold, the overhead florescent light flickering on and off, filling the room with a weak light, but FN-2187 did not move. His body burned, despite the chill of the room.

Closing his eyes, FN-2187 tilted his head forward, one knee drawn to his chest, the other stretched out in front of him. He could hear the sound of his shallow breaths and the cacophonous beating of his heart, of which had slowed down considerably since being taken to the holding cell.

FN-2187 frowned. There was something else he could hear – it was quite distant, but what? Footsteps? Yes. It had a distinct rhythm to it; discordant, as though whomever these footsteps belonged to was in a hurry. Could it be one of his squadron coming to release him? Or perhaps it was Phasma – or worse, Kylo Ren – coming to continue his torture.

The lone Stormtrooper held his breath and listened as the footfalls echoed around the metal corridor that lead to his cell. The footsteps slowed as they drew nearer, coming to a halt outside of the hydraulic cell door. There was a small pause, in which everything was completely silent, the deep breath before the storm, and FN-2187, with his gaze now fixed on the door, did not move a muscle.

A soft click broke the silence, the door now unlocked, before it sprang to life, shooting upwards into the ceiling.

FN-2199 stood in the doorway, his expression impossible to read from underneath his helmet and his body language offered nothing in the way of answers.

"Nines!" FN-2187 grinned, trying his best to clamber to his feet at the sight of one of his squadron. He wasn't sure why Nines had come, or what reason the other had being anywhere near the holding cells, but it did show him some comfort to see the other there with him. "What are you doing here?"

"What a sorry sight," Nines replied, scanning the surrounds of the holding cell, and then the bloodied Stormtrooper. "Look at what you have become, 2187. You're a disgrace."

FN-2187 felt his heart sink. Nines had not come to release him, instead the other trooper, his own squad member, had come to mock him. Turning his head away from the cell door, he fixed his attention instead on the flickering fluorescent light overhead, his face hardened and teeth grit together.

"What do you really want?" He asked, voice low. When the Stormtrooper did not respond, he continued: "Do not tell me that you have come all this way just to ridicule me?"

Again, FN-2199 remained silent.

"Or could it be perhaps that you, Nines, miss me?"

"Don't flatter yourself," came the immediate response, the Stormtrooper's voice, despite his helmet, harsh. "I came only to pass on a message."

"Which you've not done," FN-2187 replied bitterly. "Looks like I am not the only one who can't follow orders."

Nines stepped into the cell, his grip around his blaster tightening. "Do not compare me with you," he snarled. "I came here to let you know that Ren has requested to see the Trooper who tried to attack Captain Phasma."

"Attack? But – "

"Do not underestimate his furore, 2187. If you survive his visit, maybe then you will consider actually doing what you were raised to do."

"Captain," FN-2187 said instinctively as the silver Stormtrooper entered the holding cell, her arms tucked lazily behind her back. He heaved himself up off the floor, trying his best not to grunt when the skin around his lacerations pulled and a white hot pain washed through his body.

"Do you know why I am here?" she asked, taking in the surrounds of the metal cell. FN-2187 could have guessed – Ren wanted to see him. Phasma was here to walk him down the green mile; accompany him to his demise – but he was not certain whether Phasma was aware Nines had visited him earlier. So instead, he kept quiet.

It took several moments before FN-2187 realised that the battered reflection in Phasma's armour was him. In fact, it was the first time he could actually see the damage that had been inflicted upon him; dried blood flaked at his temples, his brow and lip had been cut. A mosaic of bruises of varying colour and outlined his face and neck.

"Do you?" Phasma repeated, agitated now, taking a step towards the Stormtrooper. This time, he shook his head.

"No, Captain."

Phasma remained silent for a long moment as though considering the answer and FN-2187 was certain that she did not believe him. And why should she? He had quite the reputation of knowing things, or at the very least, thinking he did.

"Kylo Ren wanted to see you," she said, although from the tone in her voice, FN-2187 could tell that she was not concerned with his wellbeing, rather, her status within the Order. "Word got out that I had a Stormtrooper on my hands that was disobedient, lazy – did not care for the First Order."

Captain Phasma clenched her fists together tightly as she stared down at the wounded Stormtrooper. "You will be relieved to know that I informed him that he had misheard; that these were just rumours. In doing that, I have spared your life."

She paused, paying careful attention to the other's expression before stooping down to meet his eye level. "Do not for a second think that I did this to let you live," she said. "No. I will not allow your blatant inability to become what you were made to be put my role as Captain in jeopardy. I will make anyone who thinks that it is because of my guidance that you are a failure as a Stormtrooper regret the day they ever thought that."

She straightened herself up, turning away from FN-2187. "That includes Kylo Ren," she added, her tone like ice.

FN-2187 watched his Captain stalk out of the holding cell. He waited for the hydraulic door to shoot back down into the flooring before sliding back down the wall of the cell once more. He was alive. He had escaped the wrath of Kylo Ren. But it wasn't because Phasma wanted to spare his life. Had her reputation, her position within the First Order not been on the line, she would have gladly allowed Kylo to kill him.

Closing his eyes, FN-2187 exhaled. If he wanted to stay alive, he was going to have to do everything he could.

It was at least a week before FN-2187 was allowed outside the holding cell; before he could finally feel the freshness of the breeze on his skin. But he did not let these simple pleasures stand in the way of his goal.

With his blaster clutched tightly in one hand, the Stormtrooper ducked his way under low hanging branches and wove his way through the thick clusters of pines. Freshly fallen snow shifted under his boots, every other footfall seemed to puncture the snow, forcing the Stormtrooper to sink calf deep in the snow.

This endurance training was nothing like he had ever done before; every ounce of strength he could muster went into keeping up with, and outdoing his squadron.

The lenses-telemetry on his helmet provided a continuous stream of data regarding the environment that surrounded him. Shooting a backwards glance over his shoulder, the telemetry projected the exact distance between him and his squadron; their heart rates accelerated as they tried desperately to keep pace with him.

Advancing up the icy slope towards their target, FN-2187's pace slowed out of both exhaustion and an attempt to allow his squadron to catch up. Cresting the slope first, he bent over, his hands on his knees, eager to regain his breath. The Stormtrooper's lungs burned with effort as they took in the frosty air, his heart still felt as though it were in his throat. His trousers and undershirt were sodden, the snow soaking through the fabric and sticking to his skin and his armour did very little to protect him from the elements.

It was several minutes later before the first of his troop, FN-2000, or Zeroes as he liked to be called, crested the slope, one hand clutching his side. He came to a halt next to his squad member.

"Who are you?" he managed to ask between pants. "And what have you done with our 2187?"

FN-2187 couldn't stop himself. He knew that Zeroes would not be able to see, but he could not hide the grin that spread across his face. A member of the squadron – Zeroes, known to excel in this kind of endurance training – had acknowledged the hard work he had put into the test.

It was FN-2003, or Slip as they had nicknamed him due to his clumsy and often light hearted demeanour, who was next to crest, trying his hardest to keep his footing on the frozen slope. He waved at Zeroes and 2187 enthusiastically, offering the pair a thumbs up when he reached their side.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, shivering in the arctic breeze, Nines came slowly into view, clawing his way up the side of the slope. Once managing to straighten himself upright, he re-joined the waiting squadron, but did not say a word. Instead, he kept his back to FN-2187, eager to not face him.

Exhaling deeply, FN-2187 allowed his shoulders to slump as he closed the small distance between himself and FN-2199. Placing a hand on his forearm, he squinted, trying to catch a glimpse of Nine's face from through his helmets visor.

Much to FN-2187's chagrin, the other twisted his arm away. Taking the hint, he turned to face the rest of the squadron.

"It's okay, Nines," he said, quietly enough for only the one trooper to hear. "I don't think you're a disgrace."

A/N: I promise Finn and Poe will be together eventually. And then it will be fluffy and angsty and perfect. But for now, I'm just giving the pair backstory and a means to fight. Please bear with me.