Chapter 7

Plunged into Darkness

He was blind. Blind, or unable to open his eyes. Which, he couldn't say. All he knew was that at some point, the near constant stream of pinpricks of sand hitting his face hadn't been enough to keep him conscious anymore and only the sudden ripping pain in his back was able to pull him back from the suffocating fog. He opened his eyes and flinched. It took him a fraction of a second filled with desperate anguish that was making his insides curl up tight, before he realized that the shadowed area with the reddish lines across them and specific items pointed out to him, were some kind of lenses. Breathing heavily, he smelled the filtered air. A helmet. A Stormtrooper's helmet. Eight-Seven must have put it on him to protect his face.

Strong arms lifted him off the speeder, pressing his aching back to a chest clad in armour, making him groan. "I'm taking you inside now, Sir."

The voice, now not filtered anymore through the speakers of the helmet but by its ear pieces, sounded entirely different. Not as low somehow, but still determined.

"Where are we?" He was surprised he was able to say even that when his entire body was shaking. The sun was already rising. He could see it through the view-impairing lenses. We have to change that somehow, he found himself thinking, his mind travelling back to work he couldn't attend to now. The thought tugged at his very being, making him flinch. He'd never see a tactical display or chart ever again. His hands curled into fists and he gritted his teeth. All of this had been for nothing. The entire mission had been not only a waste of time, but also of life. Swallowing down the onrush of anger was hard, and he barely even managed it.

"Somewhere. I really don't know, Sir. I'm sorry." Eight-Seven was dragging him now, Poe's feet sliding over the sand.

"I can walk," he protested. "I think." He wasn't entirely sure he could.

Eight-Seven stopped, his arms wrapped tightly around Poe's middle. "Sir?"

"Let me try at least… and let me take this thing off before we do anything else." He was already soaked in sweat and fairly sure that it wasn't the exertion of being carried from a speeder to a place he couldn't even see. Lifting his hands, he felt for the underside of the helmet and pushed it up, the cut in his right hand throbbing with pain. The still cool morning air hit him like an invisible force, filling his lungs and making him gasp. Blinking, he looked around. At the brown sand tinged in a warm red light. At the orange sky… Nothing else… nothing but the banged-up speeder on which they had made their escape. Without making a sound, the helmet landed on the ground. It didn't look like they were going to need it. He could feel Eight-Seven shifting behind them and reluctantly releasing his grip on him. Poe's legs gave way immediately. Eight-Seven caught him, before he could crumble to the ground.

"Sorry," Poe mumbled, turning his head slightly to look at the man holding him. All he could see however was a strong chin, before Eight-Seven hoisted him up again, making him wince as the wound struck the armour again.

"Don't apologize… and I'm sorry for hurting you. I just want to get you inside before the sun rises."

He could hear the frustration and the exhaustion in Eight-Seven's voice, as the other's breath brushed past his cheek and now Poe didn't turn his head. Their faces were so close now, Eight-Seven might misunderstand his intentions. Poe closed his eyes, as Eight-Seven started moving again, doing everything in his power to hold back a scream of agony, as the other dragged him backwards. When his feet struck metal, and he felt the shadow on his face, he blinked again.

"I'm going to put you down now," he heard Eight-Seven say now. "Find something for you to lie on, so I can have a look at your wounds."

Breathing heavily and pressing his lips together to suppress another groan, he let Eight-Seven put him down. They were on the inside of some giant vehicle, he realized now. He saw the piloting chairs, saw the remnants of something else that only belonged inside of an AT-AT Walker and the obvious signs of someone having lived in here for a while. A cot, a makeshift cooker... The next moment they were face to face. Dark brown eyes staring straight into his own, making him gasp. The full lips were set in a determined grimace, as he reached out to touch Poe's forehead. Eyes full of life and so, so very young, it made Poe's heart drop. How old had he been when he had first encountered action in the field? He couldn't tell, but he had been far away from it, not right in the middle and he hadn't lost anyone. Now three of the people that had gone with them on this mission were dead. Gone. Just like that. And the mission objective with them. The data storage device was destroyed. And the people they had lost had trained with Eight-Seven, Poe remembered. Eight-Seven had been their leader.

"I'm sorry," Poe breathed again. "It's my fault they're dead."

Eight-Seven pressed his lips together and shook his head. "No, Sir. It really wasn't." He didn't need to say anything else. The disgust in the Stormtrooper's voice was only too obvious and though Poe knew that he had to put the soldier back in line, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He knew enough about missions gone wrong to realize that Hux had brought him into this situation. By giving him orders which simply had been bound to result in this mess. Not because Hux wanted him dead, Poe didn't believe their enmity reached that far, but because Hux was a horrible tactician and because he didn't want Ren in command of this operation.

"You're hot." Eight-Seven said quietly, taking his cool hand away from Poe's forehead.

"That's me…" Poe murmured, barely able to hold back a laugh. Their eyes met again and he saw the flicker of a smile on Eight-Seven's face. He was already feeling it. The heat creeping up on him, Sweat trickling down his neck. But still he didn't want to face it. Didn't want to talk about what a fever would mean in this environment.

"There were a couple of water bottles strapped to the speeder. I'm going to get them and see what's in there before I do anything else."

Poe nodded weakly and pressed his teeth together once more, as Eight-Seven got up to get the blankets from the hammock. Spreading the blanket on the metal flooring, he reached out for Poe, grabbed him by the shoulders and gently lowered him on his stomach.

"How is your hand?"

"Fine…" Poe lied, still ignoring the throbbing pain now spreading to his wrist and finger tips.

Eight-Seven left without another word. Poe could hear him walking over the sand outside and managed to lift his head off the makeshift pillow made from some sort of rough blanket. There was not much to see here, only the inside of a long abandoned homestead. It was dusty and the sand had drifted so far inside that Poe was sure no one had entered this thing in a very long time. Whoever had lived here, had obviously been counting the days, judging from the faded scratches made upon one of the walls. Poe couldn't even begin to count them, but the view told him more about the desperation the person living here must have felt than anything else. It made him sick to the pit of his stomach. What could those faded strokes of regret tell him about his own prospects? Or Eight-Seven's?

Closing his eyes, Poe let his head fall back onto the pillow. His head was spinning and his throat parched. Already the air inside this pitiful homestead was warming up, making the wound on his back ache even more, the heat of it spreading slowly but surely over his skin.

"Only a two bottles." Eight-Seven announced, as he came back and crouched next to Poe, two metal cylinders in his hand. Poe looked up at him, shaking his head.

"They're both full, though." He was already unscrewing the bottle, when Poe spoke up.

"No," he said, his voice firm. "I need you to leave me here. Get away from here, find a transport off this rock. You need to report back to General Hux and-"

"Sir…" Eight-Seven let himself fall next to him. It was obvious that he didn't feel comfortable interrupting a senior officer, the softness in his voice made that very obvious, but there was nothing to be done. "Zeroes set off the emergency beacon, when the X-Wings showed up. I heard him over the comm. The Order knows, Sir." He was still holding the bottles in his hand, one of the lids unscrewed now, and he held out one of the bottles to Poe, who nodded briefly.

"Your comm should be able to send out a faint signal, which will be detected by our allies and not the Resistance."

Poe closed his eyes. He hadn't thought of that, but then again, he had to admit that the chances of the Order actually finding them here in this forsaken wasteland were beyond slim.

"Still…"

"I'm not leaving you, Sir."

Poe opened his eyelids again. Doing so was hard. Harder than he would have thought, and it took him a while to focus his gaze on Eight-Seven. "You should have left me in that village," he mumbled. "To safe your own skin."

The low laugh wasn't entirely what he had expected. White teeth flashing in the dim light, Eight-Seven faced him again. "What for?" Eight-Seven closed his lips again and shook his head. "I'm not leaving anyone behind if I can help it. I can't…"

Poe smiled weakly. "Not exactly proper procedure…" he mumbled, as Eight-Seven bent over him and lifted his head slightly to make it easier for Poe to drink. The water tasted like nothing. Nothing at all. It was warm. Way too warm, but it did the job. As Eight-Seven took away the bottle, giving Poe some room to breathe, he was already feeling that the few mouthfuls he'd had weren't going to be enough. Not by a long shot.

"Neither is walking straight into a hostile encampment unarmed."

"Point taken. But there was nothing else to be done."

Eight-Seven nodded, his eyes suddenly filled with a sadness so ground-shaking that Poe wanted nothing else but be able to avert his eyes. But that was out of the question. He owed it to Eight-Seven to watch over his grief at the very least. Eight-Seven had lost his comrades today. All of them. In one swift swoop and there had been nothing for them both to do but watch it happen. "Let me check your wounds."

Sighing, Poe nodded. "Fine. You should know though that right now nothing hurts too badly."

"Not necessarily a good sign, Sir."

"Not by the state your armour is in, no."

Eight-Seven looked down at himself, at the white armour stained with Poe's blood smudged all over its front. Without asking for permission, he started taking it off. "Don't have much use for it now anyway, do I?"

Poe smirked. "Haven't we already agreed that our current circumstances are far from anything covered by the book? Don't mind me."

He watched on, as Eight-Seven started removing the armour from his chest and arms, each item clattering to the floor with a weak thud. He was muscular, Poe realized. Well trained. Strong. Probably a lot stronger than him with only his basic self defence training to show for. The thought made something at the back of his mind start to itch and he pushed it away quickly. He couldn't start thinking like this. Like Eight-Seven's stature was anything less than desirable for any person if it was only meant for one purpose. Not even after what had happened back at Tuanul could he think any less of the Order.

As Eight-Seven bent over him, he closed his eyes again. He could feel the Stormtrooper's fingers pushing away the fabric of his uniform, examining the wound and hissed through his teeth, when Eight-Seven pulled at a piece of cloth now embedded in his skin.

"Sorry."

"How come they call you Eight-Seven?" Poe asked, trying to take his mind off the stinging pain and the head enveloping his head, threatening to drown him in darkness.

"Excuse me?"

"Your name… I know it's an abbreviation of your signature, but the others… the others had- ah!" A brief ripping sensation, as Eight-Seven tucked at a piece of his uniform made him scream in agony and he shut his eyes tightly.

"Sorry!"

"Keep going… can't have that stuff stuck to me indefinitely can I?"

A sigh. "Probably not."

"Well then…" A soft trickle of coolness spreading over the wound, relieving some of the pain and he sighed. "Don't waste the bit of water we have…" he mumbled, eyelids fluttering. The sensation of heat came back almost instantly. "Doesn't help much anyway…"

Eight-Seven ignored him. He had picked up Poe's hand now. "Least I can do is try to clean this one…" But there wasn't much to be done. Just a bit of water with which to wash the wound. That was it.

When Eight-Seven sat back down again, Poe felt like he was drifting already. Drifting through a haze of fog, threatening to overwhelm him. "The other…" he started again, his voice thick with fever. Sweat was trickling down his face and all of a sudden a shiver ran up his spine, a sudden cold spreading through his every limb. This was bad. Very bad. "The others … " he swallowed. His tongue felt like an alien thing stuck in his mouth. Inseparable and suffocating. "Their… their nicknames were different."

Silence… nothing but silence… for a moment he wondered if Eight-Seven had left. Had finally left him here, to get to Niima Outpost and off this planet. But Eight-Seven's voice was still with him.

"It's the only name they ever gave me," he said quietly. "Zeroes and Nines… they were proud of their names, Slip was… well he messed up a lot…" He sounded detached. Like what he was saying didn't quite register. The past tense must feel more terrible to him than it did to Poe even in his dazed state of mind. "Eight-Seven was always more appropriate for me, I guess. FN-Two-One-Eight-Seven."

"Well…" Poe said hoarsely, trying to open his eyes again, but the heat was inviting already, promising to take him out of this dismal place at least for a while. His lips felt puffy, his cheek stuck to the blanket beneath him. Back at the village that piece of shrapnel must have cut his skin there and the wound had opened again from the rough surface beneath him. He didn't even care. "Well I ain't using it…" His voice was tired. Heavy with fever. Slurred… But Eight-Seven deserved more. More than a horrible abbreviation of a four-digit code.

No one else he knew would have stayed.

"FN, huh?"

No one had stayed with him.

No one.

Ever.

"Finn… I'm gonna call you Finn, is that alright?"

Another wave of darkness was washing over him, suffocatingly hot and cold at the same time, as he said those words. But at the same time, there was something else. Something he couldn't quite name, but which felt like something he had thought he'd lost somewhere along the way.

"Finn…" The man sounded like he was mulling it over. Disbelief clearly evident in his voice, but only for a moment did Poe wonder whether he had gone too far. "Yeah…" the soldier murmured, sounding like the idea of this one single word applying to him was pleasing somehow. "Finn. I like that."

Poe felt his puffy lips stretch into a grin and his heart leapt. Had he done this right? Had he even had the right to do it? He wasn't sure, but it wasn't anything he could think about right now. With an effort of will, he opened his eyes again, to find the man sitting close to him looking at him with something of a smile on his sweaty face. "I'm Poe," he said, throwing all sense of protocol or line of command overboard. What use were they to him now anyway? What the hell did he care? Wasn't he going to die here? Right now? "Poe Dameron." He made to stretch out his one good hand, but couldn't lift it farther than eyelevel.

"Good to meet you, Poe," the other said quietly, taking his hand and squeezing the fingers. A warmth, which had nothing to do with the feverish heat, slowly spreading from his hand into his arm.

"Good to meet you too, Finn."

Swallowing was hard. His muscles contracted painfully, as the one mouthful of water washed down his throat, waking him up. Coughing and fighting for air, Poe squirmed on the ground, as a hand landed on his shoulders. Firm, but assuring at the same time.

"Didn't mean to wake you, Sir." Eight-Seven.

Blinking, Poe opened his eyes to look up at the man, who had forced him to swallow.

"The last time things weren't quite as bad."

"Last time?" Poe croaked, as the pain came back to his mind, waking him up fully with a single jolt of stabbing pain.

"Yes, Sir, I-"

"Poe."

"What?"

"The name is Poe, we already established that, didn't we? No backing out now, that would be embarrassing." Poe was surprised at the speed with which these words came out of his mouth, even if his mind was still foggy. The heat had left him, at least for the most part.

"Yes S- Poe…" Eight-Seven- no! Finn! The name was Finn. The other man closed his eyes for a brief moment, as he sat back down again and took a tiny mouthful of water himself. Poe couldn't tell what time of the day it was. Light was shining through the opening to the desert, but it had cooled down somewhat.

"How long have I been out?", Poe asked, licking his lips. They were dry. Cracked and he could feel the headache coming. Things really weren't looking all that good, he thought, as his stomach gave a violent lurch.

"The whole day." Finn turned to look at him. He too looked like he hadn't had much to drink and his voice was hoarse. "I found some water stored away back there and purifying liquid. No idea how old it is, but it was kept safe and tasted alright, so I gave you some. There was also some mild medication against fever as well. Whoever lived here had some backup."

Poe nodded groggily. That at least explained why he wasn't burning up as much anymore and why he was more or less able to think straight. "No chance you found some food?" Not that he was hungry, to be fair, he didn't feel like he could eat anything ever again, but Finn at least was bound to be starving by now.

"I did, actually." Finn reached behind him and lifted up a loaf of something Poe hadn't had since the early days of the Academy. "Just some polystarch, but I guess it's better than nothing."

"Lovely…" Poe murmured and looked up at Finn. "Did you have some?"

"I did. There's still some veg-meat as well, but the stove is broken."

Poe nodded. Not a big surprise there. "Can you help me sit up?"

The frown on Finn's face showed all to clearly that he didn't think Poe's request was a good idea. "Your back-"

"It'll be fine for a while. My neck hurts from looking at you from this angle."

Finn sighed and the next moment his hands were on Poe's shoulders, who helped as best he could, biting on is lower lip to keep himself from making any sound of discomfort. "You know that you don't have to look at me."

A hollow laugh made its way up Poe's parched throat. "That would be a little eccentric, don't you think?" He leaned back, glad to find some sort of pillar structure against which to lean his shoulders without letting his back touch anything. "Thank you."

Finn smiled vaguely. "Maybe. But still. You should sleep. Get some rest."

"How long has it been since the distress signal has been sent?"

For a moment there was silence and Poe watched Finn's face, as the other looked out the opening. The sky was turning orange again. Soon it would be dark and then? What would they do the next day, when all their water had run out? Finn at least had a chance of making it out of this sandpit. Finn must know that, but he stayed with him anyway. It defied all logic. But Finn, he knew, wasn't stupid. Far from it. He had not only gathered that from the file he had read, but also from the way he had reacted. He was a quick thinker and even if he acted out of impulse, he still managed to get done whatever he had set his mind to.

"I activated the signal on your comm while you were out," Finn said. "To a frequency only First Order ships will be able to pick up."

"And what if they don't come here?" Poe shook his head. The movement was painful. Like he was scrambling his brain just by turning his head slightly. "I need you to go. Go to Niima Outpost, or wherever, find some vehic-"

"No!" That one word was enough to shut Poe up.

He swallowed hard. His rank alone should have been sufficient to make Finn obey his each and every order. But something had shifted. Something was different. They were in a different place, no longer among their own people. Maybe it had been the name, the very fact that Finn had accepted his suggestion, or the moment when Poe had offered him his own first name, but either of them, or maybe both, had changed the way they talked to each other. The way they looked at each other. Poe wasn't even offended at the Stormtrooper interrupting him. Not scandalized.

"For one, the Resistance is very likely to be waiting for us there. It's the only spaceport on this rock and… I can't. I will not leave you here. Whatever you say, you're delirious, so your orders don't count anyway."

"I don't want to order you about…" Poe said quietly, reaching for the canteen of water Finn put in front of him.

They locked eyes, just for a moment, then Finn shifted slightly, so he was sitting right next to Poe with his back against the wall. "I know."

Poe nodded slightly and lifted the canteen to his lips, already feeling that it wasn't even half full anymore. "Good… what's happening here is highly irregular and I don't want you to think I'm in charge of anything. I can't even sit up on my own…" Leaning his head back against the metal frame, he closed his eyes, cursing himself quietly for allowing Hux to get him into this situation. But he couldn't have defied direct orders. No one could. Not in the First Order. It was unthinkable.

Finn bent forward and as he sat back up again, he was holding the bread-like substance in his hand. "Care for some of this?"

Poe snorted. "Not really. I feel sick."

A low grunt was all he got out of Finn after this announcement.

Closing his eyes again, he leaned his head against the pillar. "I won't ask you to leave again. I promise. But you should consider that we might be stuck here for a while and it's very likely I'm not going to make it." Judging by the throbbing pain slowly creeping its way back to his consciousness that scenario felt very real. He was soaked in sweat again, and he knew that the heat inside this metal homestead had not much to do with it. He needed water. More than they had to spare and more than they had period. "If you leave now, you might actually make it somewhere with water." Though it was true that Finn could in fact strap him to the speeder and take him along to wherever he might go next, it was also true that the Resistance might very well be looking for them in the nearest town. Two men, one of them injured, arriving in one of those villages, or even Niima Outpost, would look highly suspicious. It wasn't likely they'd make it together. But Finn? He had a chance… but only if he left now.

"We don't know how long it's going to take them to get here. A day at least. And you really shouldn't be thinking that way."

Poe snorted. "I'm a tactician, I know when it's time to retreat."

"Well, we have done that and now it's time to wait." Finn sounded annoyed and Poe turned his head to be able to look at him again.

"You really hate leaving people behind, don't you?"

Another silence. Then a shrug. Yes, Finn was young, but not inexperienced. Poe had talked to Phasma about Stormtrooper training techniques and he knew that the simulations under which the young soldiers trained, were only so effective, because they felt real. Finn must have more experience in the field than Poe did. At least on some level.

Poe bit his lip. "It's impressive," he mumbled. "Not at all what I would have expected…"

"Slip would have left you there…" Finn said quietly. "He was running towards the shuttle like crazy, not because he was keen on following orders, but because he wanted to get away from the X-Wings…" Finn shook his head, then leaned his forehead against his knees. Poe almost expected his shoulders to start shaking, but that didn't happen. Finn took a deep breath, steadying himself.

"I can't really blame him. This was your first real mission, wasn't it?"

Finn shrugged again. "More or less. The first one in which things got this dangerous anyway…"

"Not everyone can stand that sort of pressure." Poe's eyes trailed the contours of Finn's face. The other looked stricken by what had happened. Devastated by the loss of his friends and disbelief at what had happened to them. And of course not everyone was cut out for this sort of life. "He wasn't the first one to run, when things got tough. And the fact that you stayed where you were shows that you aren't like him." He wasn't sure if what he was saying was comforting, or if he wanted it to be. "Why can't you let it go? Why did you rescue me?"

"I can't say why exactly. I know I should have followed your orders back there, but I couldn't. I know what I should do. What's expected of me but…"

Poe nodded. "I know. Never mind, I don't blame you. I really don't. How could I? You saved my life! Just impressed, is all." And he was. He truly was and he managed another smile, when Finn turned his head to look at him, utter disbelief in his eyes. "I'm not sure what I would have done, had I been in your shoes… running away from those villagers." He smirked briefly, then bit his lip, when he saw the disbelieving twinkle in Finn's eyes. "Thank you… even if we're doomed to die here in this horrible place… you getting me out of there means something. To me anyway." He laughed. Laughter, which was met by silence and a look on Finn's face, Poe couldn't quite make sense of. "You're a good man, Finn."

"Poe, is your fever going up again?"

"Probably," Poe laughed despite himself. Hearing Finn use his first name felt alien. There weren't a whole lot of people out there who called him that and he had to admit that it felt good. Better than good actually. Even in these tight quarters. "But you do know that drunk people are supposed to tell the truth more often than not… no reason that shouldn't hold true for sick people, right?"

Finn snorted. "I have another pill over here, you should take that."

"Doctor's orders?"

"Doctor's orders."

As Finn approached him again, the white, oval shaped pill in hand, Poe met his gaze again. "I meant it…", he mumbled, reaching up with his good hand to touch Finn's arm. Sweat was pouring down his face again. "No one has ever done anything like that for me."

Finn held his gaze for another moment, then nodded. Hesitantly he reached up to touch Poe's forehead again, his fingertips brushing gently over the tips of hair falling into Poe's forehead. "Still burning up…"

Poe felt his cheeks grow even warmer. He couldn't exactly remember the last time someone had been this close to him, and at this precise moment he realized with a pang, how handsome the man staring into his eyes actually was. He closed his eyes, so Finn wouldn't see anything that might betray Poe's racing heart.

"You okay?"

"Mostly…" Poe said quietly, taking a deep breath and smelling whatever made up the scent of this man across from him, covered by a faint trace of sweat. "Give me that pill…" He forced his eyes open again, saw the one bead of sweat trickle down Finn's upper lip, and reached for the hand in which Finn was holding the medication. Their fingers touched and all of a sudden, he felt Finn's fingers interlace with his own. The sun had almost set now, the light barely reaching into their small space, but he could still make out every detail of Finn's face, as Finn's thumb stroked lightly over the back of Poe's hand.

"It'll be alright," Finn said. "I'll do my best."

Poe nodded and felt Finn push the pill into his hand. And then he was gone. Had settled back against the wall again. Poe swallowed the pill without further comment and took another sip of hot water. "Nothing you can do…"

The silence between them started again, Poe watching as night settled outside. It was hard to imagine that it had only been a day since he had set foot into that village. Barely twenty four standard hours between these two moments, which seemed to be divided by a chasm no one would be able to breach. Three people were dead. Their people. And now he and Finn, that Stormtrooper who had saved his life and who was so much more that a mere soldier should be, were about to die as well. The headache was mind numbing now and every fibre of his being was screaming for another mouthful of water. And then there was the man himself. Eight-Seven, who had taken on this one name without hesitation.

Poe closed his eyes again. He couldn't hold them open anymore and he felt darkness dragging at him again. The medication was helping, at least to some extent, but his eyes still felt heavier than they had ever been .

"I heard what you and the old man talked about."

Poe turned his head to face him with raised eyebrows, suddenly fully awake again. "You did?"

Finn nodded. "Those helmets are horrible for proper vision, but they really enhance your hearing range…"

"And…?"

"Your parents… they were with the Rebel Alliance?"

The words made a sudden fire of rage and despair leap up in Poe's stomach. It always happened, when someone mentioned his parents. Rage and fear. Fear of something he couldn't quite explain. "Yes," he said after a brief moment of silence. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't remember my parents…" Finn said and Poe nodded in response. Of course Finn didn't remember them. Infants were taken from desolate planets and trained by the First Order. That was what happened. That was how Stormtroopers were found.

"I… I'm sorry…" Poe managed. There was nothing else to be said, and even that sentence felt wrong somehow. It wasn't his fault, and after all, Poe himself didn't exactly miss his parents. Things had happened to him, and those things couldn't be changed and he had his life, his rank… or at least he had had those things until last night. But at least he knew their names. He knew where he had come from. Even if that was of no importance to him now, at least he had a past that was entirely his own.

"You don't seem to be too fond of your own mother and father," Finn argued and Poe managed a shrug, which sent a painful wave of fire down his spine.

"Well," he began, fighting off the pain, "My mother practically hurtled me along wherever she went, after my father died in some mission for the Rebels. When I was four, we were captured by the Order, General Kafr to be precise, and that was when she was executed. I've been with the Order ever since. Not much to tell on that front."

Now it was Finn's time to frown. "That's an awful lot of knowledge of your life before you turned five…"

Poe blinked. "Well…" he said again, but wasn't able to say anything else for a moment. Was it strange that he remembered so much? He couldn't tell… the idea had never crossed his mind. "It was memorable, I expect." But he had to admit that no images came to mind as he thought back to the time. Not his parents faces together, not his mother telling him what had happened…just that one moment. The one moment when she had been led away from him. That was all.

"Probably…" Finn said quietly, lifting his hand to touch Poe's forehead again. "You should lie down again." Finn's fingers left a tingling sensation behind, when they left his skin. His heart contracted painfully, when their eyes met again. Poe bit his lip to hold back a grin

"Am I getting hot again?"

"I heard someone say that was your usual state, but right now I think it's something different."

"Ha!" Poe smiled widely, but didn't protest, when Finn gently lowered him back onto his stomach. "You're funny. I had a feeling you'd be."

"You did?"

Poe couldn't see his face anymore, but just lying in this position again made it hard for him to keep open his eyes anymore. His eyelids fluttered and then shut despite his best efforts. He gave a low grunt. Again, the heavy weight of sleep started spreading over him again like a blanket, but giving in simply wouldn't do. He didn't want to.

"Poe?"

"Yeah.." All of a sudden, he was getting drowsy again, the heat enveloping him all of a sudden like a blast of fire. He blinked, looking at Finn, not sitting far away from him.

"What if they don't come for us?"

There was nothing to answer to that. Nothing at all. Nothing comforting anyway. Poe reached out to Finn, gently taking his hand. "You know that you're going to have to keep going," he mumbled.

Finn looked taken aback at this sudden touch, but didn't pull back. Poe himself felt like a sudden wave of warmth and electricity was spreading from his fingers into his arm at the very touch. Was he going too far again? Was he overstepping his boundaries? Yes, he was likely going to die here on this rock. But Finn was also a soldier. A soldier under his command. Not a good combination. His insides twisting with guilt, he made to let go of Finn's hand, but almost immediately, Finn's fingers weaved through Poe's holding his hand tight.

"Only if I don't have to do it alone," he heard Finn say and almost immediately his eyes fell shut again. And now Poe couldn't even open his lips again to reply. All he knew was that someone was holding his hand. Someone, who was brave and wouldn't leave him behind.

A violent red light, flashing in the dark, jerked him awake. He gasped, and it took him a moment to realize that it was the comm lying on the ground between him and a sleeping Finn. Breathing heavily, Poe squeezed Finn's hand. The light itself was blinding, making flashes of pain rush through his brain.

Finn groaned and his eyes looked bloodshot as their gazes met.

"Looks like they found us after all…" Poe said quietly, unable to do anything more than croak.

With a silent nod, Finn sat up, letting go of Poe's hand in the process. At that precise moment, they could hear the familiar sound of engines approaching. Poe closed his eyes, a sense of relief washing over him mixed with something gut wrenching.

"Finn?" Poe croaked, turning his head, so he could at least see the back of Finn's head. Slowly Finn turned to face him again, a weak smile stretching across his lips.

"Yes, I know."

But what it was exactly that Finn knew, Poe never found out. The next moment another shuttle, looking so much like the one they had escaped in, landed in front of the AT-AT Walker and Finn stood up, moving forward to meet their people.