riverviewlogs | [ closed/open ] Highway to the danger zone

[ Luckily it's not the first time Jim's seen ugly wounds like that. Hell, he's had his fair share during his bar-brawling years. Granted, he's not especially used to cleaning them up on other people, but he knows what to do.

He manages a weak chuckle, nudging very lightly against Poe's arm. ] Shut up.

[ Pressing the towel to Poe's nose, ] Blow your nose. Hard as you can.

[ Poe obeys, blasting snot and blood and going half-blind with pain all at the same glorious time.

A pause. ]

Ow.

[ Jim catches most of the mess of snot and blood and wipes it all up, dabbing the other end of the towel and clearing up some of the blood so he can have a better look at Poe's nose. It's a little swollen, and he feels carefully along the bridge with his fingertips.

Good news, he's still able to blow out through it. Bad news, though— ]

I think it's crooked. Not broken, hopefully. I can set it for you, but it's gonna hurt like hell.

Great. Kinda figured.

[ He braces himself and nods. ]

[ He presses a palm to Poe's forehead, pinching the top of his nose lightly and keeping him in place. Carefully he holds the bridge with his other hand. ]

Okay, on one. Three, two—

[ But he moves on two instead. Best to catch Poe by surprise, and lessen the chance that he flinches or moves too much. There's a hard tug, then he pulls to the side until the cartilage aligns. He lets go, some blood spilling from the nostrils almost immediately, and he mostly ignores Poe's reaction while he feels along the bridge and makes sure it's all in place again. ]

[ His reaction mostly involves swearing in several different alien languages, very loudly. He can feel the blood trailing down across his upper lip, tasting one stream of it in his mouth as the other slowly works its way toward the corner of his mouth and his chin. ]

You said three. [ Not that he particularly minds, really. It would have hurt either way. But it's something to complain about, and something to keep Jim from talking to him about... other things. ]

Yeah, well— I lied. Suck it up. [ It worked, though. He managed to set the nose without much of a fuss, and since Poe wasn't expecting it he didn't wince or tense up as much when he did it. The pain's easier to handle when it comes unexpectedly too. Probably. He thinks.

Wiping the blood off of Poe's lips and chin, he dips the towel in water to wash it off, then repeats the process, pressing the towel lightly to the nostrils every so often until finally the bleeding stops. His free hand feels along the bridge, until he's satisfied that the nose has been put into place again. ]

Can I ask you something?

[ Poe fingers the length of his own nose gingerly, more for something to do with his hands than because he doesn't trust Jim's nose job.

He closes his eyes. ]

Yeah.

[ There are any number of things Jim might ask about all of this. Poe doesn't want to answer any of those things. He owes Jim an answer for all of them. ]

[ Poe doesn't owe him a thing. If he got hurt and thrown around during that fight, it was only because he chose to step in. He would, of course, because Poe's his friend and first officer, but that doesn't change the fact that he doesn't expect Poe to repay him for it. ]

Will you tell me about the Hosnian System?

[ Mainly, he wants to know what Hux did. He knows he's been lied to, betrayed, and tricked by the General, though he won't quite admit to that just yet. He's not even sure how Poe will react to hearing that Jim considered Hux a friend until tonight. ]

You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.

[ Poe keeps his eyes closed. He knew, he knew that would be the question. That doesn't make it hurt less. For a few seconds he can't speak around the tightness in his throat. He can't just say they blew it up. That's not enough. It doesn't mean anything to anyone outside of his own galaxy, not really. So he starts with what matters. ]

I lived there for about ten years. First at the Naval Academy, then while I was stationed there. Hosnian Prime, I mean, though I visited the other planets and the moon a lot.

[ He bites his lip, teeth scraping an older cut and making it bleed again. He still has his eyes closed. Somehow it's easier to talk that way. ]

The capital of Hosnian Prime is--was, it was beautiful. Different kind of beautiful than Yavin. Yavin was all clean jungle and open farmland, ranches. Hosnian Prime was all kinds of people, all kinds, mixing together in support of the New Republic, living the dream of peace.

[ He smiles, visualizing the place, though the smile falters almost immediately. ] There was a statue to Bail Organa in the pavilion in front of the Senate building. Solar sailor races every fall. My wing and I used to go bar hopping along the pleasure strip when we were on leave. There were great little restaurants there, too, you'd never get bored. Always something we hadn't tried before, always the places we went back to over and over.

[ Now the hard part. Poe goes quiet. Poe goes quiet for a while. ]

The First Order had a weapon. They called it Starkiller, Starkiller Base. They carved out the heart of a planet and turned it into a hyperlightspeed cannon, big enough to destroy whole systems. Draining the power of the planet's sun to do it.

[ Another silence, while Poe's jaw works, clenching and unclenching as he remembers the fight at Takodana, the fact that he had no idea what the First Order had done until after. How short-lived the buzz of victory had been. ]

They wanted to destroy the New Republic. So they did. They turned Starkiller on the Hosnian system and blew twelve billion people away. I don't even know how many of my friends were still stationed there. A lot of them, probably. Every Senator. Every restaurant owner--there was one who always gave us our food for free, said we were doing the future's work. Bantu, I think his name was. Every citizen. Everyone who believed in the New Republic.

They destroyed the galaxy's hope. They wanted to kill the Resistance with it. Didn't quite manage. But they came close.

[ The system had been destroyed. He gathered that much from Hux's words. what he wasn't entirely sure of was just what that meant to Poe, how much had been lost. To his galaxy at large, and to Poe personally.

He takes in the small details, listens in absolute silence, makes note of everything. The system, the planets, it all becomes that much more tangible to him, an image he can practically conjure up and see in his mind's eye. The pleasure strip is not very much unlike San Francisco at night, lit up and alive, streets crowded with Academy cadets looking for some fun, a party, a place to be with friends.

His chest is already clenching tight even before Poe gets into the details. Of course he knows what happened next, and why. Doesn't take a genius to know what their purpose was. To a degree, they still succeeded. Even with the Resistance rising again, fighting again, they still took out a good chunk of their Republic. Like reaching inside and yanking out a vital organ, burning it to the ground. ]

I'm sorry. [ His voice is small and a little broken despite himself. He looks down. It's not even his world, or his fight, but he could still cry right now, just hearing all that. ] I'm so sorry, Poe. I didn't— didn't know.

[ Poe gives him a blank look, trying to find the words--'It's not your fault', 'You couldn't have known', 'Why are you apologizing'. He knows that's what people do--something bad, something terrible happens, you apologize, even though it's got nothing to do with personal power. You apologize for the universe being what it is. You apologize because sometimes that's all a person has in the face of grief. ]

Thanks. [ It's small, it's quiet, but it's sincere. ]

[ He’s apologizing out of a sense of empathy, yes, but not only that. He realizes now that during the times he spent with Hux, largely around the perimeter guard, they’d never crossed paths with Poe. It occurs to him that the general may have very well orchestrated it that way, for this very reason. ]

Hux and I were friends. [ He explains, looking down. ] Or... I thought we were. He never told me about this, obviously.

[ Whether to trick him for his own advantage, or because he knew Jim wouldn’t have stayed his friend for long after learning about who he really was— well, the reason hardly matters.

Quietly he goes back to wiping the blood off of Poe’s face, careful about the nose, and applying bandaids where needed. Then he reaches for Poe’s shirt, since he knows he got hurt under there too. ]

Oh.

[ So that's it. Poe hadn't been paying attention to the way Kirk looked at Hux during the fight. All he'd been aware of was Kirk's shock when Poe punched Hux in the face. That explained it, at least. It wasn't just surprise at Poe's violence.

Poe grits his teeth and raises his arms so Kirk can pull his shirt off. It hurts to lift his arms. His ribs ache, his back twinges. But there's nothing sharp and stabbing, which means his ribs probably aren't broken, at least. ]

He's a liar. Murderer, torturer, you name it. What he did or didn't say isn't your fault.

[ That much is true. Jim's surprise wasn't at Poe's violence so much as seeing it aimed at Hux, followed by his shock when Hux so easily turned against them both.

He shouldn't have been so gullible, so naïve. He didn't question a thing, simply assumed Hux was... good, for lack of a better word. Someone he could trust and let in.

And now, here they are.

He does know it's not his fault. The fight, Poe's injuries, his crying. He still feels guilty, though. ]

No, I know that. [ He says quietly, fingers prodding slowly down Poe's side, where some bruises have started to shape up. The bones don't seem to be broken or out of place, and he doesn't feel any of the rigidity that would be the telltale sign of an internal hemorrhage. ]

Does anything hurt too much? [ He goes on to clarify. ] Physically. On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad is it?

[ Poe tenses and relaxes with each poke and prod, little shockwaves of pain going through him. It's not terrible, though. It's not unbearable. It's not the worst he's ever had. ]

Four to six. Depends on which parts of me you jab.

[ A pause. ]

Thanks. For. Y'know.

[ Stepping in. ]

Sorry. I'll try to jab more gently.

[ That's not too bad, though. Poe's bruised and battered but it's mostly just swollen muscles. He doesn't seem to be bleeding out, and there aren't any broken bones. Aside from that nose. He'll have to patch that up for a couple days too. ]

You're my friend, Poe. Don't even mention it.

[ He cups Poe's face with a smile, giving his cheek a very gentle pat. ]

Anyway, I think you'll live. I'm gonna get you something cold for these bruises and patch up everything else, then get you into bed. You're gonna need some rest. Alright?

[ Rest. Right. The look on his face says pretty clearly what he thinks about staying in bed, particularly when Finn already has his wind up as far as Poe's brawling is concerned. ]

Yeah. All right.

[ He's not convincing, but hey, he's not arguing. Even he can see the need to sleep off at least part of the pummeling he's put himself through. ]

[ Too bad for Poe that Jim didn't ask him how he felt about it! But okay good, at least he doesn't argue.

It takes a while to clean him up proper, and patch everything up, but Jim is meticulous. He wipes up the blood, checks the bruises and cuts, applies appropriate ointment where need be, then patches up and bandages the uglier wounds. He also patches up his nose, stuffing it with gauze then placing medical tape across the bridge to make sure it won't shift back into the wrong position. ]

Should get a doctor to take a look at this tomorrow. [ It's a gentle suggestion, but Jim will push later, if he sees Poe's nose getting worse. Crooked nose won't favor his looks at all.

Jim doesn't bother trying to get him into a clean shirt, and instead nudges him gently to get him under the bed covers. ] Come on. I'll clean up the mess— you want me to stay, or...

[ closed/open ] Highway to the danger zone

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