They come with bows and arrows

[volitaunt]

who: Poe Dameron, Finn, Amilyn Holdo, Karen Page, more tba
what: Canon update log / prompts for February
when: January 31st
where: AROUND RIVERVIEW
warnings: None atm

Comments

we are the hunted -- FINN

[volitaunt]

[ It's like drowning. It's like that time when he was eleven years old and went too deep in the river north of the colony on a dare, the gentle tug of memory that turns into a nightmare rush of explosions, loss, survival. Rage and tenuous hope.

He's blind with memory, hit by the full-body ache of a stunner blast straight to the chest. It almost knocks him off his feet again. He does stagger, catching himself against the living room couch.

Then it's over. His vision clears. The ache stays behind, the adrenaline of survival hammering in his chest and through his body.

Poe's eyes settle on Finn. He waits, just a moment, just long enough to be sure that Finn is out of the drowning deep of recollection.

Then Poe punches him in the ear, hard enough to really hurt. ]

[bythehand]

[ Not knowing exactly what to expect is both a blessing and a curse with these things. Finn doesn't like not having an idea what he's in for, but having no strict expectations also means not having to deal with the upheaval of this-- process or whatever turning out to be something different. It just is what it is. What it is is a lot.

All he has to grapple with for a moment is the duality of knowing he hasn't moved or actually gone anywhere, never really left their living room, and the less logical knee-jerk twist of feeling like Rose has just been very suddenly yanked out of his sight.

The next thing that hits him is the realization that the canisters are all tapped out, that's all they had to give, the realization that they somehow made it out alive. Hand in hand with massive losses, hand in hand with a lot of near misses and abject failures. But they made it. He's new to active hoping and newer to optimism, but he's fully prepared to ride whatever good thing he can find out of this mess, as long as it's willing to have him.

The third thing that hits him is Poe. Finn, stumbling back a little, can say with full certainty that he expected that least of all. For all of half a second, he's angry-- he thinks of Hux and his too-pale eyes, and what was probably supposed to be a petty reminder of his "place", and it just sort of splashes up, spits like hot oil. As quickly as it rises, it snuffs out, though, because this is Poe.

There's not a world where he can see those two issues intersecting in any real, concerning way. It's a galaxy's worth of difference, and he's sure of that even without the full context. Anger can get put to simmer for another more relevant time.

So what he has left is an indignant "ow!" and a level of confusion that-- well, he's sort of gotten used to riding with in the past day or so, honestly. Some sort of vague... 'wait is Poe actually mad at me right now for something, what did I do' mix of emotions. ]

Hey! [ You know what, indignant is good, too. Right up there with confusion. ] What the hell was that for?!

[ AT LEAST HIS OTHER TWO FRIENDS AND ONE DROID FRIEND DIDN'T KNOW HIM FOR LIKE 3 MONTHS BEFORE THEY HIT HIM WITH STUFF? THEY JUST DID IT WITHIN THE FIRST TWO MINUTES LIKE CIVILIZED BEINGS. ]

[volitaunt]

What the hell was that for? What the hell were you thinking?

[ He yanks Finn into a hug, emotions a tangle of three months and a few fraught days. Every conversation they've had here and every conversation they haven't had a chance to have there. ] You idiot. You don't just throw your life away.

[ He's lost too many people to recently on suicide runs. Paige's face hangs like a phantom in his heart, along with every other person aboard those bombers he helped train. Every one of their escorts. ] No one is that easily replaced. No one. Especially now.

[bythehand]

[ Oh. Okay, sure. Right into the hug. Finn hugs back, obviously. The pieces start clicking together as Poe goes on, a pretty swift and simple process of elimination. There's only really one thing that seems to fit what he's talking about.

Finn comes into understanding. Why Poe's saying what he's saying, why Rose did what she did. Most of what she did. He understands Poe better than he understands Rose, here and now.

In an ideal world, understanding would fold into I know, you're right, I'm sorry. The reality of the situation is that Finn tried to argue with Rose about stopping him while she was injured and semi-conscious from saving his actual life, on an active battlefield. And he's got some charge left on his arguing guns, judging by the way he pulls back to make eye contact.

Understanding, sometimes, isn't quite on the same level as getting what people are trying to tell him. ]

I wasn't throwing my life away. [ He almost sounds incredulous. Does it count as lying if he was absolutely about to throw his life away, but genuinely believes that he wasn't? Find out in Episode IX. ] It's not about being replaceable, it-- I could have stopped that cannon. I could have stopped it, Poe, I was gonna buy you more time. I would have. I was making a choice.

[volitaunt]

You were making the same choice I made when I sent our bombers in for that dreadnaught, Finn. I got them all killed. We would have lost too many people finishing that run on the cannon.

[ Poe still hasn't let Finn go enough for the man to back away entirely. He gets the feeling he's not going to be letting Finn go for a solid few minutes at least. He hadn't had time to care properly in the moment. He had to get the rest of their people back inside, find another way, any other way to stay alive. Now he can care. Now he can think about what it would have meant to lose Finn, the ragged-edged wound that would have left behind.

Poe thinks, selfishly perhaps, that loss has tattered his heart enough for one engagement. ]

You... [ He's not sure how to argue. There's a degree of logic in what Finn says, sure. He's right. He could have stopped it. He could have bought them a little more time. ] Yeah, maybe you could have stopped it. Maybe you could have bought us more time. Maybe we would have found that other way out still, maybe a lot of things would have happened. That's too many maybes for me.

[ He touches his forehead to Finn's, wanting to make him understand. There's so much more to them than one person, one loss. One dead body means almost a tenth of their forces, now, but that's not even the part that matters. ]

You could have done it, but why would you have done it? You didn't want to let them win. I get that, believe me, I do. But Finn--

[ He's usually pretty good at this. He's usually okay, he's usually on steady ground when he talks to Finn. But everything is moving under his feet. The galaxy is shifting and turning around them into a new and desperate shape.

He draws back again, so he can see Finn's face clearly. ] But what would you be fighting for? Just to buy time? That's not a good enough reason to fight. There has to be more to it. We fight for each other. If we have to, we die for each other. But we fight because we have something to protect, not just because we want to defeat the enemy. I don't want you to make my mistakes.

[ He closes his eyes. Those mistakes are so close, so costly, he could cry if he weren't so suddenly tired. ]

We need you alive. I need you alive.

[bythehand]

[ Not for the first time in his life, he doesn't know how to say something. Doesn't know what to say. Not without sounding like he's brushing off what Poe is telling him, what Poe is asking him.

A day ago he would have balked at the idea of latching onto a cause, here or there; of having the option to run, and still angling to put himself into the middle of a war he never asked to be part of in the first place. A day ago the only things he had worth staying to fight for were people. Rey, and Poe. Rose. He'd fight for Rose. Some of the people he's gotten to know here.

A cause is just one more thing. ]

I got tired of running, [ is what he comes up with, helplessly. Fear drained out and something else filled the void, white-hot, and for the first time since he left, for a little while, he wasn't afraid of anything at all. ]

I was raised to fight. This is how I fight. I'd rather be alive. I just thought-- I wanted...

[ This is how he fights. This is why he fights. To do whatever he can, as one soldier, for something more important. To give his side a shade of an extra chance. For his people. He can bet on a maybe. (Being replaceable factors in somewhere, distantly, in the unconscious way of something you're steeped in all your life, a negligible matter of math.)

... Those aren't his only reasons. He can't stand in the face of Poe's honesty, of everything raw and genuine and tired, and say that was all it was, and say he believes it. It wouldn't be fair. If Rose were here saying the same things, the same sentiment, all over again, he couldn't say it. What he can do is dredge up an admission, tight and measured, in tandem with the rest: ]

I wanted to hurt them. [ If there's anyone he can say that much to, he thinks, if anyone's seen enough of him losing grip on the reins of his own control in the past couple of months-- anyone he can admit losing it again to-- ] I really wanted to hurt them.

[ Just once while it was all he wanted. Just once without being scared of them, one time. If it could go hand in hand with helping the Resistance, all the better. The best of both. It felt worth it. ]

[volitaunt]

[ Poe pulls Finn back into his arms.

I really wanted to hurt them.

Poe gets it. It was the thing at the forefront of his mind when he switched off that comm before Leia could order him back to the cruiser. It was what he wanted, all he wanted, as their bombers got torn apart, as he watched with his weapons systems disabled, able to do nothing but watch.

He spent so much of the past few days doing nothing but watching. (The past few days, the memory of the past few days, it's impossible to untangle one from the other.) He watched while their bombing fleet died, he watched as he lost every active pilot in the attack on the hangar. He watched while the fleet's support ships were destroyed and their captains were killed, one after the other. He watched as the transports got blown away shot by shot. He watched, and watched, and watched his family die.

He watched Amilyn Holdo save them all, and Luke Skywalker do it again. How can he begrudge Finn what he wanted, what he thought was right, when suicide plays are the only reason any of the Resistance survived? ]

I get it, buddy. I do.

we are the chosen ones -- HOLDO

[volitaunt]

[ As soon as he's done talking to Finn he leaves the apartment, making plans to meet up as soon as Poe is done with this trip. They want to talk to Paige together. But Poe has to make this stop first.

He barges through the waiting room of Holdo's offices the minute they tell him he needs an appointment. He's not sure which door is hers, but he's more than willing to start opening them and just keep opening them until he finds the right one. The man from the front desk follow him, trying to grab him, but Poe shrugs him off again and again. ] Get off me.

[ He's still riding high on adrenaline, humming with emotion, and it's all he can do to keep himself from decking the obstacle between him and Holdo.

That's about when the security guards show up and he's grabbed with significantly more force. He struggles, and then he starts to yell. ]

Admiral! Admiral Holdo! I need to talk to you! Admiral Holdo!

[protectingthelight]

[ Amilyn misses the start of the commotion, because she’s intent on some new policy documents that she's developing. It’s only when the security guards join the ruckus that she realizes something is up, and in the split second before Poe yells her name, she thinks, oh good grief, is that—?

Yes. Yes it is.

She sighs, pushes her chair back, and steps out into the hall. She stares at the scuffle for just a moment, sighs again. ]

It’s all right. Let him go.

[volitaunt]

[ He shoves free of his captors as soon as they loosen their grip, oblivious now to the entire office, seeing her, seeing that last beautiful maneuver. The vision of the First Order fleet annihilated by a desperation move that lit space like a supernova.

She's absolutely stunning. ]

You did it. You saved us. We lived.

[protectingthelight]

[ Seconds tick by like hours as she stares at him. She doesn’t understand, and then she does, and his words seem to echo in this small, plain, bureaucratic space. Her throat constricts and her chest feels tight, but somehow at the same time, her whole body feels as if it’s made of light.

It worked. Thank the Force, it worked.

And then she realizes that they’ve all been staring at each other for who knows how long: herself, Dameron, the security guards, Hank the executive assistant. ]

All of you. Go. No, not you, Dameron. With me. The rest of you—out.

[ She doesn’t have to repeat herself. The guards and Hank scatter like startled birds, vanishing almost immediately. She turns on her heel and heads straight back to her office, not even looking to see if Dameron is following. She knows she doesn’t need to.

As soon as he’s through the office door, she closes it behind him. She starts to say something, then realizes she’s too overcome to shape words. So she just stands there, and suddenly realizes that she’s trembling. ]

[volitaunt]

[ Once they're alone, once she's standing there shaking, it's more than Poe can do not to try and comfort her in some way. She gave her life for them. She gave them everything.

So he takes her hands slowly in his, raising them and kissing her knuckles like a knight swearing himself to his king. ]

What do you need?

[protectingthelight]

[ The gesture and the words bring tears to her eyes; her fingers tighten on his. ]

You've given me what I needed the most. [ Her voice is trembly, soft, but strong all the same. ] The knowledge that you're all safe.

[ All. It can't be many, she knows, not after the transports that she saw destroyed, but ... enough, maybe. Enough for hope. ]

How did you—? A memory canister?

we are the wanted -- KAREN

[volitaunt]

[ It's becoming routine. Something happens, something bad, and he wants to see her. After the talk with Finn and the talk with Paige he needs to. After being reminded how close to death he'll always be, he needs to... to what?

He needs to tell her in no uncertain terms what he's facing, he needs to know if she...

If she what?

He wants to see her. He can go with that.

Once again he finds himself leaning against her door, fingers splayed out across the number, staring at it like it's written in numerals he can't read.

What is he doing? Why is he doing it? (What about John, part of him thinks, and he doesn't know why, won't let himself consider why.) Ever since that night with them curled up together, him running his fingers through her hair, her saying she might stay in Riverview, he's been entertaining half-formed ideas that featured the backdrop of home.

Now, though. Now....

He has no right to entertain those kinds of daydreams. He has no reason to. There's no place he can offer her in his world or any other.

He knocks. ] Karen? You in?

[paged]

[ It's a kind of pattern she's become used to in a way. Before coming here and then with someone new. Sometimes she wonders if that's all she'll ever be: the person people come to when something bad happens. But she also knows, when faced with them, she can't really turn them away.

At least not yet.

Maybe that will always be her downfall, being a bleeding heart.

Though seeing Poe at her door as she gets in was a new one. ]

I am now.

[volitaunt]

[ She's so beautiful. That's the thing that strikes Poe first, how luminous she is. She's a candle in the darkness, the kind of person who lets others see their way clear, and he can't help himself.

He steps forward, runs his thumb across her jawline, his fingers up into her hair, and he kisses her. It's gentle, exquisitely gentle, and it's such a relief to have something soft and unbloodied that he could cry. ]

[paged]

[ Well.

She wasn't expecting that, either.

Karen can't remember a time anyone has done that when they see her so... it's surprisingly easy to return the kiss, a hand reaching up to cup the side of his neck before her fingers are reaching up into his own hair. ]

[volitaunt]

[ It's so much. It's all so much. It's too much for him to hang on to, it's too much for him to hold alone. She's too good to deserve a life like the one he could give her.

She's too good to keep seeing good people die. ]

I think I'm in love with you. [ Not just her, he realizes, and his stomach fills with a sick buzz that he only ever seems to have when he's helpless. ] And I don't know what to do about it.

[paged]

[ Her eyes open slowly at those words, feeling her stomach flip and then sink all at once. She looks at him, afraid and unsure about it all. The whole damn thing. She had loved Matt, still does in a way, but the way that had gone...

Her vision is blurring, tears she doesn't want there but there they are. She swallows hard before her hand cups the back of Poe's neck. She leans forward, pressing her forehead to his. Her voice is almost too soft. ]

Me too.

[ And God, does she feel like a fool for it. ]

we are the burning sun -- JOHN

[volitaunt]

[ For the first half-second, when John grabs him and starts to drag him away, Poe throws himself forward at the enemy with the kind of abandon that gets people killed. It's only the thought that he can't hurt John that keeps him from pushing free.

For the first few seconds after John starts to pull him away from the fight, Poe almost resists. His desire to finish this, to finally kill Kylo Ren outright, to have that one thing be done, that one victory, almost overrules everything else.

But there's the blood on John's hand. There's the risk all this poses to John, the thought that someone other than Kylo Ren or Poe himself could end up dead.

And what did he just say to Finn? We fight because we have something to protect, not just because we want to defeat the enemy.

So he lets it happen. He lets John drag him away.

He's definitely cracked his ribs again. His head is starting to pound along with the ringing. His throat is bruised, bruised enough that it's going to show, and his nose might not be broken but it's definitely not uninjured. He can already feel the bruises starting around his eyes.

The whole way back to his apartment, he curses himself for being impulsive. He curses himself for being too weak to make a real difference in the fight. It was John, it was all John.

Poe wishes with everything he is that he could at least have finished it. ]

[deploy]

[They get to Poe's place without incident. John opens the door with Poe's keys and locks it behind them. He knows a slab of wood won't be enough to protect them from anyone strong enough to throw a grown man into a wall with a single thought, or stop bullets in mid-air, but it makes him feel better.

One more wall between them, and whoever that was. Whatever that was. A man, but not just a man. John's stomach twists, a wave of nausea hitting him even as he navigates Poe into his kitchen, and sits him down onto the nearest chair with more force than is necessary. It's not an unfamiliar sick. John felt it the first time he encountered the Wraith, and was forced to confront the very real fact he, and the rest of humankind, were not the Apex Predators of the Pegasus Galaxy.

He looks at Poe, at his bloody face, and channels his nerves into doing something useful. Standing there, being afraid, isn't going to help anyone. John can't properly see the damage for how much blood there is, so he grabs a towel, wets it with warm water, and starts dabbing at his skin.]

Who was that, and why did you try to blow his brains out?

[John's eyes go to Poe's eyes, it's as much a real question as a test of Poe's awareness. It speaks to Poe's strength that he's still conscious after the beating he took, but John wouldn't be surprised if he's concussed.

He wipes the blood away from Poe's cheeks and nose, trying not to look half as worried as he feels.]

[volitaunt]

[ It hurts. His face already feels tender, and even the gentle pressure of a cloth makes his pounding headache worse. ]

Kylo Ren. [ As though the name can sum up everything, can explain why Poe went straight to attempted murder.

Hee tries to push the cloth away, to stand, even though he has no idea where he intends to go. Now it's even worse than before, when he told John he didn't know what he wanted, when all he did know was that he couldn't stay still. He wants to go back to that spot on the street and see if Ren has done the universe a favor and bled out.

There is something to be said for a weapon that doesn't cauterize the wound. ] He killed us. Him, the First Order, they killed us.

[deploy]

That was Kylo Ren?

[Just like that, everything makes sense. John remembers the name. Poe's mentioned him before, on that night he was drunker than drunk, and reached out to John for help. He still has the messages somewhere on his phone. Hadn't deleted them, like John hasn't deleted anything Poe's ever sent him.]

Stop it. I'm trying to see if you need stitches. [It's as close to a commanding tone as John's ever given him. He grabs Poe's hand with his hand, holding it down by his side, carefully, because Poe's knuckles are just as abused as the rest of him. If Poe wants to stand up, he'll have to go through John first, because he's standing in front of him, and he's not moving until he's done.

John's thumb strokes the side of his hand, consolingly, as he scrubs dirt and crusted blood from his brow. He can see where the worst of the damage is, now. A cut over his nose, bruised, but not broken, another cut over his eye, and a bad abrasion over one cheek, like someone came at his face with a cheese grater. That was probably the pavement.]

Do you have a First-Aid Kit? I think some liquid bandage might be enough to seal the worst of it until the nurses can get at you. I'll take you to the infirmary tomorrow, they can speed things a long, and do a full-body scan. Make sure you're not bleeding internally. I don't think you are, but... can't be too careful. Busted ribs aren't nothing.

[John might be nursing a few himself, but he's fine. He's in better shape than Poe is, at any rate, and someone has to make sure he doesn't get any bright ideas to go back there and finish the job. It's possible Kylo Ren is dead already, but it's just as possible he isn't. Two bullets is more than enough to stop most men, but Kylo Ren isn't most men.]

I know you're angry, and I don't blame you, but you're not going back out there. If you want to take him out, we have to do it smart. Not in the middle of the street, in broad daylight while surrounded by civilians.

C'mon. [His eyes go soft as he gently wipes the last streak of blood from Poe's jaw.] You know better.

[volitaunt]

[ John's tone surprises Poe into obedience. He winces his way through John cleaning his face, like a kid after a playground fight. The gentle contact feels good, it feels too good, and he thinks about that conversation with Karen three days ago and the cold realization that he loved her and John both.

He's not going to make the mistake of admitting it, not again. Not when he can't do anything about it. He'll break his own heart before he breaks someone else's, he's learned that much at least. ] Kit's under the sink.

Never thought I'd miss bacta tanks. [ Being healed with magic is still weird. He reaches up to take John's wrist lightly. ] And if I'm getting scanned so are you.

[ Then he goes still, stops fidgeting, stares at John with something like shock while he drinks in the softness in his gaze. It's so at odds with what John says that Poe isn't sure where to start.

You'd do that for me, he thinks but doesn't say. Don't do that for me.

Yes. Help me do it.

He would, Poe realizes, he would do it. He tried to do it in broad daylight while surrounded by civilians. He would betray Leia, he would make himself a murderer, he would do anything to protect what's left of the Resistance. The Rebellion.

What he finally says is: ]

It's a small moon, John.

[deploy]

I've made bigger people disappear in smaller places.

[Softly, confidentially, and with no less softness in his eyes. There's so much John hasn't told Poe, or anyone, about himself. Where he's been, and what he's done. He had more than one reason for taking the Antarctica posting, and why he chose snow over more sand.

Because if there's nobody there, nobody to lose, nobody to kill, maybe he could sleep at night. Maybe he could fly, and fly, and forget everything but flying, and remember how to feel again, after working so hard, for so many years, to forget.

John is just a man, a small man, unimportant and unremarkable in many ways, but he has killed warlords and monsters with nothing but a hardened heart and a sharpened knife, and John would do it again to protect Poe, his family, his men, his city over and over, if that's what it takes.]

I'll get scanned. Promise.

[He presses a kiss to the corner of Poe's mouth and goes to grab the kit.

Something small and good in the middle of all that's ugly and bad. That's all John needs.]

How's your head?