“She’s not as pretty as the last one, Dameron,” rang out a pleasantly familiar, overly amused voice.
Poe tossed his tools back into the box beside his bent knee before brushing his hand gently over the wing of his ship and faux whispering, “Don’t listen to her, baby, she’s just jealous. You’re perfect the way you are.” A little bit louder, he looked down at the dark-haired woman standing on the ground beside the X-wing and said, “Come on, that was unnecessary. You know I’m still grieving.”
The corners of Paige’s mouth were tilting upward. “Should I apologize for poking the wound?”
“That would be a start.” Poe patted the wing beside him. “But even though you insulted my new girl, I’ll let you come up.”
“I’m honored,” Paige said, still struggling to restrain her smile. She went up the step ladder, her weight not even shifting it, and pulled herself up beside Poe, leaving half a foot of space between them.
Poe wanted to touch, but held himself back. “You should be. You’re the first one I’ve let near her besides me and Beebee.”
Mock gasping, Paige held a hand to her heart. “Poe Dameron, you really do like me.”
“Let’s not get too crazy here.”
Paige had given up on trying not to smile. “Do you remember when we met?”
“Uh, yeah. I seem to recall me breaking my ankle and you saving me from an extremely rude pirate.”
Laughing, Paige said, “I was just thinking about it because you didn’t have Black One then, either.”
“In repairs. Happened a lot. Unfortunately, my time with Black Squadron was less than kind to her.”
“Yeah. But I did always love that ship.”
An embarrassing warm sensation bloomed in Poe’s chest. “Me, too.”
After a moment, Paige offered, “Bet there’s some orange paint somewhere around here. You can spoil this one same as Black One.”
Poe grinned and then looked away towards Jess, who waved at him. When he looked back, Paige had gone without a sound.
Poe surveyed his X-wing, pleased. He’d done a good job of minimizing the scoring from his last altercation with the First Order, if he said so himself. He just needed BB-8 to get back with –
“Poe. Er, Commander Dameron.”
He looked over at Rose. “Yeah?”
She was blushing, bouncing on her toes. She thrust out the can she was holding. “I found this? It’s paint. Orange. Thought you might want it, for… You know. Since. Black One.”
“Thanks,” Poe said, interrupting before Rose could continue digging herself into an awkward verbal hole. He was weirdly touched that she would think of it. “I’d been thinking of looking for some.”
Clearly relieved, Rose smiled faintly at him. “I think it’ll look great. New paint job. I could help?”
“Nah,” Poe said, hopefully not unkindly, gripping the handle of the can in his fist. “I’ve got this.”
“Okay. Well.” Rose gnawed at her lip. “If you change your mind.”
As Rose’s footsteps faded away, Poe caught sight of a familiar dark head, her hair falling in wisps around her face. “Got all the help I need.”
He thought he might call his ship Cobalt Striker.
It was late and Poe never noticed a knock, just rolled over and saw Paige standing there inside his doorway, wearing a shirt that was a little too large, a shirt that Poe knew must have come out of his own drawer. It still had the creases from folding in it.
“Did you miss me?” she asked, chewing her lip, moving to hover beside the bed, like she thought maybe she shouldn’t have come. Paige never thought she deserved to have anything that was for herself – it was always the Resistance, or Rose, and her own needs far down the list.
“Always,” Poe said, tugging down the blankets in an invitation.
Paige settled in beside him, on her side to watch his face. “Rose is away. Quarters feel empty.”
“Well, that’s lucky. I was just thinking this bed’s too big for only me.”
“It is not. I’ve got to practically lie on top of you to fit.”
That wasn’t quite true; Poe wished she would get closer. “Don’t see me complaining, do you?”
Paige smiled a little and closed her eyes; Poe pulled the covers up over them both. He thought maybe he needed this even more than Paige.
In the morning he awoke to an empty bed, cold like no one had ever even been there.
Poe wanted nothing more than a shower and to collapse into his bed. He had been in his cockpit so long his ass was cramped and that was just… wrong. He hoped the hot water was working in the refresher again.
“Hi, Poe,” came a slightly nervous voice, and Poe couldn’t find it in himself to be irritated.
“Hey,” he said, smiling, hoping he didn’t stink as bad as he thought he did.
“You’re back,” Rose said, and then winced. “Of course you are. Stupid.”
“I’m sure you’re exhausted but I thought, you’re probably hungry, too? So we could eat? I mean, if you want to. With me.”
“That sounds great,” Poe said, “but I really need a shower.”
Rose’s smile reminded him of Paige, and it made something in him ache. “That would be nice.”
Yeah, Poe thought, even though it would delay his reunion with his bed. It would be.
“I, um.” Rose was hesitating, weight shifting. She pulled something out of a pocket in her jumpsuit, a small piece of flimsi, maybe, or a picture. She clutched it, bending it slightly. “I found this in… in Paige’s journal. I thought you should have it.”
Poe took it from Rose’s outstretched hand, their fingers brushing. It was a picture, hastily snapped judging by the candid poses, him and Paige, his arm around her shoulders. Paige was smiling at him.
“Thanks,” Poe murmured, and stuffed it in his vest. He raised his eyes and saw Paige from over Rose’s shoulder, smiling just like in the picture, and he smiled back.
Rose glanced in the same direction then looked confusedly back at Poe. “Was someone there?”
“Not anymore,” Poe said, and turned back down the corridor towards the refresher.
The hangar bay was as full as it had been since they relocated after Crait, since they started over. The galaxy was always going to have beings unwilling to roll over, willing to risk all, and more and more of them were coming to the Resistance, finding ways to help.
Poe looked at Paige, standing beside a newly acquired beauty of an A-wing, brushing her hand over the nose, like Poe remembered his mother doing.
“I’m gonna get Rose in here, let her fuss with the engine. If she gets her hands on it I’m sure this thing’ll fly better than any ship in the fleet.”
“I think Beebee-Ate would have something to say about that.”
A smile quirked at Paige’s lips. “You should think about letting Rose work on your ship. She’s the best there is. No offense to your droid.”
“Offense taken,” Poe said genially. “But your sister does know her way around a ship, I’ll give you that.”
“I think it would be nice if you were friends.”
Paige glanced to him, this approving look in her eyes, before stroking the ship’s nose once more. “Feels weird, imagining myself piloting this in a dogfight.”
“You’ll look great in an A-wing. A lot faster than your bomber.”
“Faster than your X-wing, too.”
“Take that back,” Poe said, horrified. “Those are fighting words.”
Paige grinned at him, pride and challenge. “Yeah, flyboy, so get your butt in your cockpit and let me prove it.”
“Hell, yes,” Poe said, knowing his grin had to be as wide as hers.
One ship left the hangar and one ship returned.
He is in his cockpit, watching, knowing there is nothing he can do. The bombers are going up but the dreadnought is still there and they are so close. He watches helplessly, hating it, and still no bombs drop, and they have to do this, they have to.
Paige, Paige, Paige, he thinks, and it is only hers left. She can do it. She will do it.
“Paige!” he shouts, and the bombs drop, and the dreadnought goes up, taking their last bomber with it.
It’s done, he thinks, we did it, and he wants to vomit.
The blackness of space morphed into the blackness of his quarters. The breath was heaving from his lungs and sweat was beaded on his face. He wiped one hand over his face and stretched the other across the mattress.
His bed was empty, and Paige was gone, just as she had been for months. He had watched her die.
He knew it, in his head, that she was gone, but he couldn’t stop…
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, and thought for the millionth time about what he could have done differently, what he should have done differently. Thought of a better plan, set the fleet in a different arrangement, done his part quicker, helped protect the bombers, listened to Leia. Was it worth it? Would Paige have thought it was worth it?
“I miss you,” he whispered into the quiet, and heard nothing back.
He couldn’t keep dreaming forever.
“Hey,” Poe said, that afternoon in a corner of the hangar, and rolled his sleeves up as Rose switched off her blowtorch and shoved her face shield up. “Am I bothering you?”
“No!” Rose pushed a chunk of hair behind her ear. “No, of course not. Can I help you? Commander?”
“Thought I’d pick your brain a bit. See what you think of this mod I’d like to make to my ship.”
Rose’s eyes widened slightly and she blushed, visibly flattered. “Sure! But your ship, you know, you’ve got the best X-wing in the Resistance. There’s not much to be done.”
Poe shrugged. “There’s always another edge to be gained. Besides, I like the work. Keeps my hands busy.”
“You never stop moving, do you?”
Poe had to avert his eyes, closing them for a second, remembering, before he faced Rose again. “Your sister used to say that to me, too.”
“You cared about her,” Rose said, her tone and her expression gentle, and Poe knew she wasn’t asking.
“I did,” Poe said, and felt the press of his fingernails into his palm as he squeezed his fist. “Suppose it must seem like I didn’t.”
“Why? Because of the evacuation? That was the mission, and Paige chose that. She would have done anything for the Resistance.”
“I know,” Poe said softly. She had done anything. She had given her life.
“She didn’t tell me about you. She told me everything. But not you.” Rose sounded more curious than upset, like she only wanted to know what it was about Poe that had made Paige keep him a secret.
“I suppose telling you would’ve made me important. I was never supposed to be important.”
Rose frowned. “You shouldn’t say that. She cared about you; she wouldn’t have spent time with you if she didn’t. Paige wasn’t like that. She… The Resistance meant so much to her. You must have made her happy.”
“Pretty sure I annoyed the hell out of her.”
Rose laughed lightly. “Maybe that, too.”
“I…” Poe fingered the ring on its chain around his neck. “Felt wrong to get too involved, you know, with everything… But your sister made me very happy. She was an amazing person.”
“She was.” Rose blinked her eyes like she was chasing back tears and sat down next to her work bench, wrapping her arms around her knees. The medallion she wore, the twin to her sister’s, hung against her chest.
Poe sat beside her, just waiting.
“I’m… I’m glad that someone misses her as much as I do.” Rose paused. “I know it sounds crazy but sometimes I think I still see her.”
Poe hesitated, uncertain of what would be welcome. He barely knew Rose, really, not like he had known Paige.
But maybe they could change that.
He slid his arm around her shoulders and she pressed into him; he leaned his cheek against the top of her head. “Me, too.”
In the distance he could see a slim figure, black hair beneath her cap, and he thought maybe he would keep dreaming.
Just a little while longer.
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