flightforfreedom | A stupid post for stupid threads

It was hardly the first time he'd been shot down - even since he'd known Finn. Even a good fighter pilot was still a fighter pilot - stupidly high death rate, and extremely low life expectancy. There were a few different kinds of crashes. The ones that you could half-pilot, and land hard, but intact. The ones where you lost all ability to change course, but the ship still protected you. And then there were the ones you only survived because you managed to hit the button for the ejector seat at just the right second.

This one had been the first. An engine hit, an emergency crash landing. His X-Wing was cut up, but he staggered out with nothing more than a bunch of bruises.

He'd kept focus through the battle, mostly because he had BB-8 surreptitiously relaying him information about Finn. Just little updates about his squads positions, that sort of thing. Totally normal. Nothing to worry about.

He'd been so focused on landing his ship that he didn't even think about Finn until he was out of it - but he was out of range and things were heating up. He didn't end up on the same transport back, and arrived a little later. He was going to head to Finn's rooms, first. Or at least, that was the plan - which was cut short as soon as he stepped into the locker room and heard the slam of a fist against a locker. Raising his eyebrows, he adjusted his trajectory and turned the corner, to see what was happening - and found Finn.

"Hey - You alright? I heard a loud banging--"

He'd known Finn made it out. The pilot had checked in, all by the book. Perfect soldier, than man. Maybe that was a skill that just came from actually growing up in the world. You learned to compartmentalize, to put things in the proper priority. Just another skill the First Order had drilled out of him- out of all of them. There was only the Order. There was no learning how to march into battle besides people you cared about, because there was no one to care about. The Order was mother, father, lover, child. Whatever was best for that massive whole was all that mattered. End of story.

Just another thing on a long list demonstrating why he was broken.

Finn lifted his head sharply enough that the back of it hit the locker when Poe came in, making another sharp bang. That one got a wince, he hadn't actually intended it. Still felt good, a new physical ache to concentrate on instead of...the rest.

"It's nothing. You- you should be getting checked out in med bay."

When Finn banged his head, Poe rushed forward, arm out, until he could put it on his shoulder, gripping.

"I'm fine," He assured him, before offering him a wry smile, trying to get him to it down on the bench ." They checked me out on the flight over. Clean bill of health. Though I'm not sure I can say the same about you. That's going to leave a bruise--"

"Don't- Poe."

He'd meant to grab Poe's wrist with the simple goal of getting the hand off his shoulder. He didn't need this, didn't need the source of his confusion fretting over him, not after he'd come to close to costing lives.

But he'd seen Poe shot down, had felt his heart stop in that moment. So it isn't a want, isn't a choice, but a pure need, to pull the hand forward so he can rest his forehead against Poe's wrist, fingers next to his cheek. Logically, he'd known he was alive. But now he really believed it.

"Don't."

He didn't really know what he was being told not to do, but he assumed 'teasing' was probably it. He let Finn's hand rest against his hand, fingers curling ever so slightly to stroke his cheek before he tilted Finn's head up to look at him. The wry smile had disappeared into a worried frown.

"What?" He asked, because he still didn't know what he wasn't supposed to do. "Are you alright, Finn? Did something happen? Did you - they said you didn't get hit--"

"I can't do it, Poe."

He owes it to the man to meet his eyes. It hurts, more than Finn thought it was possible for a non-physical injury to hurt. It had been a stab when Kylo Ren had taken Rey, a panicked fury. But he'd had the knowledge he could get her back, that there was a whole group there to help him get her back even if it took some lying and plotting. There was action to charge into.

But there was no heroic ending to this one. No lightsaber battle or daring attack could fix him. Or the fact Poe had been stupid enough to get tangled up in his mess.

"I can't fight for the Rebellion and you."

It wasn't often, that Poe Dameron was rendered speechless. But then, it wasn't often that he felt that all his organs just ground to a stop, his heart refusing to beat. He wanted to believe he'd misheard the first sentence. Or, well, not misheard, but that it meant something other than what he thought it meant

Then Finn kept speaking.

There was a slight glossy look to his gaze as he processed it.

He'd been to jubilant, even ten minutes ago. He was alive, his squad was alive, Finn was alive - everything had been perfect in the universe.

"I never asked you to fight for me, Finn," He said, hearing his own voice speaking before his brain really caught up, his hand falling away. He could have just run with it, intentionally misunderstood, but:

"You want to end it."

Might as well get straight to the point. Beating around the bush wasn't going to make this any better.

"Today you were the only thing I was fighting for."

Two people. He only cared about two people in the entire galaxy. Rey was off finding the Jedi that had saved a galaxy, might save it again. She had a wookie and a famous droid with her. Finn couldn't help Rey. He accepted that fact.

Today, for the first time, he'd fully realized another truth: he couldn't help Poe, either. Not really. Poe lived and breathed the rebellion, and Finn loved him for it. The dedication, the disregard of his own life and safety for the cause. It was beautiful, a natural embodiment of the kind of glorious devotion the Order tried and failed to manufacture en masse. He was, as Finn had said since the very beginning, perfect.

Finn was the defective one. But he could at least see it, accept the truth Poe didn't want to.

"It's going to kill somebody. We have to."

The words didn't come out. He would say they were stuck in his throat, but they didn't even get there - curling somewhere deep in his gut.

"Right." Was the first one that came to his lips. Not the 'right' he ever used with Finn, but the 'right' he used when accepting an order he hated. When being told his duty, and wanting to shove his 'duty' back up his superior officer's ass. It was a hard, crisp word.

"Right," he says again, but the word may as well have been a different one completely - the hard edge gone, the slightest waver to his voice. He stands up fully, hands at his sides.

Finn let him go. That was the point of all this, after all. He released Poe's wrist and simply...let him go. Rather than looking at the man he stared down at his own hands, flexing the fingers slowly in front of his knees.

It had to be done. Had to. He wasn't the kind of guy that could sit quietly in the base, reading intel and debating the most politically advantageous moves. He was a soldier. He belonged in the field. Nor could he live in some imaginary world where he and Poe would never run into the same battle field again. That wasn't how they lived. They- he- could watch a comrade fly into danger. Did it everyday. Could do for a comrade what he couldn't do with a...what Poe was to him right now. They needed to go back to how they started.

"I'm sorry."

He had known that it would come around to this. He'd trying pretending that he didn't, he'd tried denying it, he'd tried ignoring it - but he'd known. It was going to hurt, sooner or later.

He had just kind of been hoping that it would be the 'later'.

"... What happened out there?" He asked finally. He hadn't moved any further away, but he hadn't gotten any closer, either. It wasn't the thing he was supposed to ask, probably. He was probably supposed to tell Finn he was wrong, that what they were doing couldn't possibly hurt anyone...

But he wasn't. It could. And Poe was being an idiot, trying so hard to ignore it.

"I lost it."

There was no point lying, no point trying to make himself look better. That would make this whole mess worse, make it look like he was willing to throw what they had away over a stubbed toe or wounded pride. Finn couldn't do that, couldn't even think of it. He owed the pilot so much more. More than his pathetic truth, more than him. He'd never had so much as a nickname before and Poe had given him a self

And this was the repayment for that. He'd been right before. Poe really was too trusting.

"I saw you go down and I just lost it. Half the squad, counting me, would've been gone if Jones wasn't there. Made sure we made it back to base."

He couldn't look at Finn, his eyes sliding down to fixate on a point on the bench, fingers tapping without rhythm against his thigh. His chest felt like someone had trapped it in a vice, squeezing tightly against his ribs, making it hard to breathe. Making every breath sharp.

But had made himself a promise, when he went into this. Even if he got hurt, he would make sure Finn didn't. Him being hurt was fine. Finn being hurt was not.

And he'd failed.

He wasn't going to fail him now. So he just took in a deep breath (like needles, right through his lungs), and then nodded, still not raising his eyes.

"I don't want to compromise you, Finn," He said, his voice a little rough. He didn't trust himself to say anything else.

"It's me."

That was important. It wasn't anything Poe had done, not a single thing. Finn had been content, he'd been happy with what they were. But he wasn't built to have it all. He couldn't have a family and be a soldier, that capacity had been drummed out. It might be the First Order's fault, but causes weren't the point here. Only the effects.

"You didn't- you can do it, Poe. I know you can. Find someone, have it work." Even if it would kill Finn to see it, it would be better than this. "It's just me that can't."

"No." The word was so instant, so firm, cutting off Finn before he could finish his sentence. Finn was making it worse, and Poe could only deal with one of their hearts at a time. He could work to make sure Finn wasn't hurt, but not with that kind of assault. The last - the last thing he wanted to think about right now was anyone else. It made his throat tighten to even hear Finn say it. His eyes felt hot, and he felt like a prize moron, so he smiled. Smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes, that was decades worth of practice.

"Nah, I think I'm good," He said, trying to make it sound easy. "You're right. This kind of thing isn't for guys like us. Not when I'm more likely to come back in a box than in a cockpit." The last was almost bitter, and he did step back then. "So just - it's fine, Finn. It's alright. Don't worry about it."

"You are nothing like me."

Finn was almost surprised by the fierceness in his tone, the steel, but this was important. Maybe the most important thing he'd ever do again for Poe. Important enough he stood, making a wild grab for Poe's wrist to stop him from just running from this.

"Do you hear me? You didn't- you don't know, Poe. You don't know what what it's like to have nothing that's yours. You never need to know that. You've got a family, you've got a chance. Don't be too stupid to take it."

Poe snapped his hand back so fast that the rest of his body went with it, taking a full few steps back away from Finn, now.

"I got the message, Finn." He said, his voice tight. It hurt too much to try to stop from hurting back, though he was trying. Fuck, but he was trying. "Nothing like you, and stupid. I got the message."

"Word of advice? Leave it at 'I'm sorry', next time." It was bitter, and he hated himself instantly for saying it, but he didn't take it back. The very idea that he could just - find someone else, for the sake of it--

He felt ill.

"No. You're not like me."

Finn looked down at his hand. He'd made a mess of even this. Not surprising. But he nodded to himself, and turned to gather his helmet back up. Maybe it was better he ruined everything. No chance for a second spring in a battle ground that's been burned and salted.

"You're better."

"Best damned pilot in the galaxy," He spat, unable to completely control his tongue. It sounded more like a curse, the way he said it. Like bitter mockery of himself.

Best pilot in the galaxy and he couldn't even keep his fighter flying when Finn needed him to.

Couldn't fly well enough to keep the best thing he'd ever had in his life.

He didn't wait to hear a reply - didn't want to. He was too angry, which surprised him, and hurt, which didn't. So he just backed right up to the door that he had entered through, turned around, and left through it without another word.

Before he could burn more bridges just for the sake of it.

A stupid post for stupid threads

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