He was terrified out of his mind, and yet there was a mad exhilaration in his belly. He was half laughing even as he screamed at the slip of a girl piloting this hunk of junk to pull up the shields. He was strapped into a chair that was sliding all over the place, trying to take out the tie fighters chasing them with a gun that refused to aim, they were very likely going to die – but oh, it was good to be there just the same. At least if I die, I’ll do it with a name he thought defiantly, ready for it, but then the shields went up, the gun started working properly, and he still had a chance. Then he did laugh, laughed even as the engine stopped and the ship flipped, causing them to freefall –
-straight into the ground with a bone-jarring thud. Everything ached, and the sun beat against him relentlessly. He opened his eyes and saw that he was in the middle of a desert. He was in his uniform but missing his helmet. Next to him lay the wreckage of a ship. He backed away from it, mouthing a name…some name…and pulled his jacket tighter around his body, shivering. It was snowing, but he had to keep moving, had to find him…he began to run, faster and faster, trees becoming blurs. Something was behind him, he could hear its breath as it chased him down, and a wild terror filled him as he began to sprint. He skidded around a corner and came face-to-face with Kylo Ren. “Traitor!” Ren screamed, and raised his hand.
He opened his eyes, scream lodged in his throat, then immediately shut them again against the glare of the lights. There was an ache behind his eyes; he felt drained and slightly queasy. Was I reconditioned? He thought muzzily. He had heard that the side effects of reconditioning were headaches and nausea…where had he heard that? He couldn’t think properly; his mind felt thick and sluggish; his thoughts coated in syrup.
He could hear voices. Slightly muffled, only small snatches of their conversation carried to his ears. He focused on them; it seemed to help the headache. The harder he focused the clearer the voices became.
“…used…forced to…”
“…help him?”
“…you…right? Could you..?”
“Not without…damage…irreparable…risk…”
“So what you’re saying is he’ll be like that forever? Never remember who he is? Never remember us?”
It was spoken loudly, furiously, and the voice broke on the last word. He flinched away from the barely disguised pain in that voice. He’d never heard anything like it, and he never wanted to again.
“Poe -” a girl’s voice, this time, full of concern. He knew that voice. Rey, he mouthed, then: Poe Dameron.
The man (Poe. Poe Dameron. His name is Poe Dameron and I don’t know how I know that but I do) interrupted her. “No, it’s fine. It is. We just – he can’t – he needs a name, okay? It doesn’t have to be Finn, doesn’t have to – but I can’t call him by the those numbers they gave him. I can’t.”
He was surprised to find that he agreed with Poe Dameron. FN-2187 seemed far away, and thinking of his designation, instead of filling him with pride, now only gave him a vague feeling of distaste.
“Perhaps we should ask him what he wishes to be called,” the third voice spoke up. “He’s awake.”
He opened his eyes again as three people entered the room. He looked at each of them in turn, his gaze lingering on the young man with the curly hair. Poe Dameron, he thought, and on the heels of that, Poe Dameron is important. He didn’t know where the thought came from, but he felt the truth of it in his bones.
“Do you remember me?” the older man asked, and he nodded.
“Luke,” he said, then he nodded at the girl. “Rey.” Another nod. “Poe Dameron.” The last two names caused a sharp pain to knife through his head, but he ignored it. He still wasn’t sure what was going on, and didn’t know if he ever would be, but he knew that he couldn’t let the pain stop him from trying to find out.
Poe Dameron’s entire face lit up. It made his chest ache oddly; a sharp twist of almost pleasant pain that was nothing like the headache pounding behind his eyes. “Do you-what do you remember?”
“I remember you taking me from the Finalizer,” he answered carefully. “I remember waking up here. I remember what made me pass out.” He looked at Luke, unable to stand watching Poe’s face all any longer. “There’s something wrong with me,” he said.
Luke nodded. “Yes. Your memories…we believe that this is more than your reconditioning. Someone has been in your head.”
He shuddered. “Kylo Ren,” he said, remembering the dream. “It was Kylo Ren.”
Poe swore loudly. Rey didn’t say anything, but her face went cold and still. He saw something that looked a lot like murder there and he looked away quickly. Luke didn’t react at all. “Yes,” he answered, though no question had been asked, “I believe it was Kylo Ren.”
“Can it be undone? Can you fix it?” If anyone could, it would be Luke. Like so many things in recent memory, he didn’t know how he knew this, but he did.
Luke gave him a half smile. “With your permission, I’m going to try.”
He smiled back. “Yes. Do it. Fix it, if you can.”
“Rey, Poe, if you’ll please step out of the room.” They both began to protest, but Luke held up a hand. “Neither of you are calm enough for this. He will sense it, and it will make my job harder. Pleas, step outside and I will let you know when you may return.” Rey grit her teeth for a moment, her face flashing with a terrible anger before she visibly calmed herself and swept out of the room at a brisk pace, fists clenched tightly at her sides. Luke watched her go, his face troubled.
Poe looked at him for a long moment, then sighed heavily. “Right,” he muttered. He smiled a bit. “This will work,” he said, seeming to talk more to himself than anyone in the room. “Luke Skywalker is the best; he can do this. You’ll be fine.” He raised his hand as if he was going to pat him on the shoulder, but stopped just short of making contact, unsure.
Impulsively, following an instinct that came out of nowhere, he grabbed Poe’s hand before he could retract it. Poe’s eyes widened, but he didn’t pull away.
His headache grew much worse at the contact, but he didn’t drop Poe’s hand. Instead, he gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I will be fine. Either way, you got me out of there, and I’m not going back. I don’t want to be FN-2187 anymore.”
Poe’s eyes widened, and he started to grin. “I never really liked that name. It doesn’t suit you at all.” He paused, bit his lip. “What do you think of Finn?”
Finn. It was like being hit by a bolt of lightning; he actually felt the click happen inside his head, and wondered why it had taken so long. For one instant his head felt like it was going to explode and he clutched at Poe’s hand, closing his eyes, but then the pain had passed and all that was left was a sense of rightness, of certainty. I am Finn and Poe Dameron is important to me.
Finn met Poe's worried eyes with a joyful smile. “Finn,” he answered. “Yeah, I like that.”
Fill: Poe/Finn- Poe is Finn's anchor 3b/3
-straight into the ground with a bone-jarring thud. Everything ached, and the sun beat against him relentlessly. He opened his eyes and saw that he was in the middle of a desert. He was in his uniform but missing his helmet. Next to him lay the wreckage of a ship. He backed away from it, mouthing a name…some name…and pulled his jacket tighter around his body, shivering. It was snowing, but he had to keep moving, had to find him…he began to run, faster and faster, trees becoming blurs. Something was behind him, he could hear its breath as it chased him down, and a wild terror filled him as he began to sprint. He skidded around a corner and came face-to-face with Kylo Ren. “Traitor!” Ren screamed, and raised his hand.
He opened his eyes, scream lodged in his throat, then immediately shut them again against the glare of the lights. There was an ache behind his eyes; he felt drained and slightly queasy. Was I reconditioned? He thought muzzily. He had heard that the side effects of reconditioning were headaches and nausea…where had he heard that? He couldn’t think properly; his mind felt thick and sluggish; his thoughts coated in syrup.
He could hear voices. Slightly muffled, only small snatches of their conversation carried to his ears. He focused on them; it seemed to help the headache. The harder he focused the clearer the voices became.
“…used…forced to…”
“…help him?”
“…you…right? Could you..?”
“Not without…damage…irreparable…risk…”
“So what you’re saying is he’ll be like that forever? Never remember who he is? Never remember us?”
It was spoken loudly, furiously, and the voice broke on the last word. He flinched away from the barely disguised pain in that voice. He’d never heard anything like it, and he never wanted to again.
“Poe -” a girl’s voice, this time, full of concern. He knew that voice. Rey, he mouthed, then: Poe Dameron.
The man (Poe. Poe Dameron. His name is Poe Dameron and I don’t know how I know that but I do) interrupted her. “No, it’s fine. It is. We just – he can’t – he needs a name, okay? It doesn’t have to be Finn, doesn’t have to – but I can’t call him by the those numbers they gave him. I can’t.”
He was surprised to find that he agreed with Poe Dameron. FN-2187 seemed far away, and thinking of his designation, instead of filling him with pride, now only gave him a vague feeling of distaste.
“Perhaps we should ask him what he wishes to be called,” the third voice spoke up. “He’s awake.”
He opened his eyes again as three people entered the room. He looked at each of them in turn, his gaze lingering on the young man with the curly hair. Poe Dameron, he thought, and on the heels of that, Poe Dameron is important. He didn’t know where the thought came from, but he felt the truth of it in his bones.
“Do you remember me?” the older man asked, and he nodded.
“Luke,” he said, then he nodded at the girl. “Rey.” Another nod. “Poe Dameron.” The last two names caused a sharp pain to knife through his head, but he ignored it. He still wasn’t sure what was going on, and didn’t know if he ever would be, but he knew that he couldn’t let the pain stop him from trying to find out.
Poe Dameron’s entire face lit up. It made his chest ache oddly; a sharp twist of almost pleasant pain that was nothing like the headache pounding behind his eyes. “Do you-what do you remember?”
“I remember you taking me from the Finalizer,” he answered carefully. “I remember waking up here. I remember what made me pass out.” He looked at Luke, unable to stand watching Poe’s face all any longer. “There’s something wrong with me,” he said.
Luke nodded. “Yes. Your memories…we believe that this is more than your reconditioning. Someone has been in your head.”
He shuddered. “Kylo Ren,” he said, remembering the dream. “It was Kylo Ren.”
Poe swore loudly. Rey didn’t say anything, but her face went cold and still. He saw something that looked a lot like murder there and he looked away quickly. Luke didn’t react at all. “Yes,” he answered, though no question had been asked, “I believe it was Kylo Ren.”
“Can it be undone? Can you fix it?” If anyone could, it would be Luke. Like so many things in recent memory, he didn’t know how he knew this, but he did.
Luke gave him a half smile. “With your permission, I’m going to try.”
He smiled back. “Yes. Do it. Fix it, if you can.”
“Rey, Poe, if you’ll please step out of the room.” They both began to protest, but Luke held up a hand. “Neither of you are calm enough for this. He will sense it, and it will make my job harder. Pleas, step outside and I will let you know when you may return.” Rey grit her teeth for a moment, her face flashing with a terrible anger before she visibly calmed herself and swept out of the room at a brisk pace, fists clenched tightly at her sides. Luke watched her go, his face troubled.
Poe looked at him for a long moment, then sighed heavily. “Right,” he muttered. He smiled a bit. “This will work,” he said, seeming to talk more to himself than anyone in the room. “Luke Skywalker is the best; he can do this. You’ll be fine.” He raised his hand as if he was going to pat him on the shoulder, but stopped just short of making contact, unsure.
Impulsively, following an instinct that came out of nowhere, he grabbed Poe’s hand before he could retract it. Poe’s eyes widened, but he didn’t pull away.
His headache grew much worse at the contact, but he didn’t drop Poe’s hand. Instead, he gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I will be fine. Either way, you got me out of there, and I’m not going back. I don’t want to be FN-2187 anymore.”
Poe’s eyes widened, and he started to grin. “I never really liked that name. It doesn’t suit you at all.” He paused, bit his lip. “What do you think of Finn?”
Finn. It was like being hit by a bolt of lightning; he actually felt the click happen inside his head, and wondered why it had taken so long. For one instant his head felt like it was going to explode and he clutched at Poe’s hand, closing his eyes, but then the pain had passed and all that was left was a sense of rightness, of certainty. I am Finn and Poe Dameron is important to me.
Finn met Poe's worried eyes with a joyful smile. “Finn,” he answered. “Yeah, I like that.”