Here's chapter 14, sorry it wasn't up yesterday like I promised. Shenanigans ensued.
Word Count: 3785
Warnings: Same as usual. Swearing, trauma, violence, nightmares, Poe Dameron.
A/N: if this chapter gets some interactions-reblogs or comments, I'll post another chapter on Sunday.
Series Master List
Previous Chapter
His steps echo off the hallway walls. Up, down, up, down. He’s going to wear a hole in the floor if he doesn’t stop.
But it’s been two hours! Or…. three? He can’t remember. What is Leia doing to you? Will she force you to leave? Is that something she can do? Or just throw you in jail? She wouldn’t…. she wouldn’t execute you, would she? If Poe has to take you and run… could he do that? Could he give up on this fight that he’s been fighting for so long? Would he do that? For you?
The door opens behind him as he turns and bumps right into you. He grabs your shoulders to keep you upright as he searches your face. You’ve been crying. He can see it in your bloodshot eyes, the way you’ve rubbed them raw.
He crushes you in a hug, unable to ask what her decision is.
“Poe,” you gasp. He lets you go, mind made up, and grabs your hand, pulling you down the hallway. “Poe, I can walk without you holding my hand.” You huff. He rounds corner after corner, ignoring your protests. He needs space. He needs you.
“Poe, you can’t just drag me wherever you want, you know.” You snap.
He pulls you into the hangar and over to his ship. Up the ramp, door closed and locked.
“You can’t be serious.” You cross your arms as he heads for the pilot’s seat. “Poe, don’t you dare take off!”
He sits in his seat and starts the engine. His stomach is churning, palms are sweating, he can’t breathe.
Space.
“You can’t just kidnap me!”
Is that what he’s doing? Yeah, guess it is. “Sit.” He says shortly. He can’t think straight. Can't let you be locked up, sent away… executed. The very thought makes him sick.
“Poe.” You warn as he engages the thrusters. “You’re being ridiculous. I thought you said you understood.”
He points to the co-pilot’s seat without a word, but instead you huff and head back into the ship. He hears the fresher door shut as he guides the ship out of the hangar and up into the wide open darkness of space. He sets the course, somewhere safe, populated. Not like last time. There’s a beeping behind him and he turns to see his little droid looking up at him.
“Yeah, she’s mad at me.” He sighs. Not that he can blame you. Just this one time, he wants to be selfish. He tried to protect you on that planet by keeping his distance. Damage was done when they found you kissing, but he did what he could. But that backfired because you apparently thought he was blaming you that whole time. One of these days, he would love to find out what goes on in that adorable brain of yours.
BB8 beeps again and there’s a faint spark from somewhere back in the cabin. Apparently, he had been doing some maintenance on the ship before Poe blundered in and stole it.
“Dameron!!” You shout.
He gets up and heads for your voice. “Yes?” He asks.
“I’m locked in the fresher. Get me out.”
“Are you done yelling at me?” He asks, a smile pulling at his lips. He’s almost forgotten what that feels like at this point.
There’s a long pause. He can picture your face, running through the emotions. “Maybe.” You finally say and he grins, splitting his lip open again.
“You let me know when you’re sure.” He says, walking back to his chair.
“Poe Dameron! Let me out!” You yell.
He gives you a couple minutes, just to tease you a little before heading back outside the door and leaning against it.
“I can hear you breathing.” You grumble.
“If I let you out, can I kiss you?” He asks.
“That… wasn’t where I thought you were going.” You admit. He waits for your answer. “Obviously. If… if you want to.”
Of course, he wants to. What a ridiculous thing to question.
“Get me out.”
He pries open the panel and selects a few wires. “Why would you think I wouldn’t wanna kiss you?” He asks as he works.
“No reason.” You reply a little too quickly.
“Sweetheart.”
“I don’t really wanna talk about it, Poe. You’re gonna get mad.”
“At you?” He asks. “Or in general?”
“Both.”
He twists the wires together and the door opens. You’re there, arms crossed over your chest as you stare at the floor.
“I could never get mad at you. Not for being honest with me.” He says, pulling you gently forward and out of the small room.
“You can’t promise me that.” You mumble. He gently lifts your chin, making you meet his gaze.
“Tell me anything.”
“Anything?”
He nods encouragingly. “Anything at all.”
You take a deep breath. “Okay… well, I don’t like your hair.” You say and he squints at you. BB8 is suspiciously quiet next to him.
“You know I can tell when you’re lying.” He reminds you, lifting your hands to his mouth.
“Where are we going?” You ask, changing the subject abruptly and looking over his shoulder.
“Somewhere filled with people. I was thinking we can just get a hotel room and just be in the quiet. Just us.” He sighs.
“I like that.” You nod.
“Y/N,” he starts, his heart clawing into his throat. The words want to come out… they’re desperate to come out. He just has to say them but he doesn’t know how you’ll react. Will you feel the same? Will you reject him, like you did in the woods when he was laying on you, ready to kiss you? He knows he’s been kissing you, and you’ve let him, but was that just to assuage your guilt?
“Can I sit with you in the cockpit?”
He puts it off, like the coward he is. Waiting a little bit longer can’t hurt… right? “Of course.” He pulls you into a hug. “Wait. I still have to kiss you. I promised.” He says, pulling you back and you chuckle nervously. Is that because you don’t want him to? Oh, how he wishes he could read your mind.
“You don’t have to.”
“Try and stop me.” He cups your face softly, pressing his lips to yours. The heat that blazes through him is his drug now. He can’t live without it. Every chance he can get to have you like this, he’ll take it. And when you open your mouth to deepen the kiss, to let him in? Maker, he burns. He grabs your waist to pull you in closer and you whimper, pulling away.
“Sorry.” You gasp.
Shit. He forgot about your injuries from hitting Bryce. “Did I hurt you?”
“It’s not your fault. Let’s just… get where we’re going and then maybe we can talk.”
***
The room is simple, dim, with faded walls, faded pictures, muted colors. Plain. One bed is in the center of the wall furthest from the door. The rug is worn, threadbare where people have walked for Maker knows how long. Smells from the market permeate the room, spiced meats cooking on a griddle, flowers and perfumes.
Poe sits on the end of the bed, ignoring everything but the way you’re pacing in front of him. Twisting your fingers together, the nervousness rolls off you in waves, like a tsunami. You walk to the edge of the rug before turning and walking back to the other edge. BB8 follows you with his lens, probably wondering what’s going on with his humans.
He can feel his own nerves rising the longer he lets you stress. You glance at him, finding him watching you and you quickly avert your eyes. In the years he’s been your friend, he’s never known you to not be able to say anything to him. You’ve always told him what’s on your mind, even if it’s an unpopular opinion.
“Sweetheart, come here.” He says finally, holding his arms open for you.
“I can’t. I need to say this, it’s just. Just… I don’t know where to start.” You whisper, voice breaking slightly.
“How about we start with why you beat up Bryce?” He says gently.
You take a deep breath, shaking your hands out. “I overheard Nya talking about how she wished I would just go back to that planet with you so she could keep sleeping with Bryce. She said a lot of awful things that he’s said about me and it just… p-pushed me over the edge. I was already there but…” you cover your face, the nerves filling the room shifting into something more like shame.
“Baby, you don’t have anything to be ashamed of. He’s the one who should be. You didn’t do anything wrong. Tell me what he did to push you that far.” He tries. You open your mouth but no sound comes out. He reaches slowly for your hand but you pull back, shaking your head.
“It’ll just make it h-harder.” You mutter. “After I went to breakfast with Snap and Beau… I went back to my room. I haven’t been sleeping, I missed you, and Bryce was there, in my bed. I-“ you cut off, crushing your eyes shut. “I’m so weak. Poe, I’m so sorry.” You gasp. Your legs look like they’re about to give out on you.
Weak? How can you possibly think yourself weak? After the torture you went through, after everything you’ve never been trained for-you were still stronger than him.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything.” Poe insists.
“I got into bed with him. I just needed…” you shake your head, almost like you’re banishing the thought.
Fuck Bryce for taking advantage of that. “Needed to be held.” Poe finishes. His heart sinks slightly, but he understands. He knows how hard it is to be alone, but also letting people in. He doesn’t blame you. “You’re not weak, sweetheart. After everything you’ve been through, you’re the strongest person I know. It’s okay to want to be comforted.”
“He didn’t want to comfort me. I should have seen it coming. He wanted me to sleep with him, but I… I’m not ready.” You choke. Poe’s hands ball into fists under his thighs. That mother fucker deserves to have his dick chopped off. He just might have to see to that when he gets back. “He grabbed my shirt when I tried to p-push him a-away… and then he saw m-my stomach-“ you cover your mouth as though you’re going to be sick.
“Your stomach?” Poe frowns. He’s seen your abdomen dozens of times, sunbathing, working on his ship and your shirt rides up-there's nothing wrong with your stomach.
You take the hem of your shirt, hands shaking madly as you lift it to just under your breasts. Your eyes are crushed shut, tears tracking silently down your bruised cheeks, you’re afraid to look at him. He tears his eyes away from your face to look at your exposed abdomen. Vicious red wounds are criss crossing your torso. The stitches are neat but the lines are messy, and it’s clear they’ve been restitched several times. In some places the skin looks ripped instead of cut, jagged and at odd angles. Some of them even wrap around to your back.
BB8 makes a shrill noise, coming to your defense in his own way. Everything in Poe stops dead, and that’s before you continue speaking, unable to look at him.
“He ran away, took my ship and found a cosmetic surgeon to fix me so that I could be pretty again.” You whisper and Poe thinks he just might be sick.
***
The air ghosts across your exposed skin, making things a million times worse. Poe is just sitting there, silent as you show your new horrifying reality. Part of you wants to open your eyes to see him, but the most dominant part of you can’t stand to see the look of disgust on his face.
The bed creaks and you expect to hear the door open and shut as he runs away. You’re hideous, he should run.
Instead, you flinch when you feel his big hands on your face, gently cupping your cheeks. His thumbs brush lightly across them, wiping away your tears. His lips press softly against your forehead, and he exhales heavily.
“Y/N.” He mumbles and you try to steel your heart against the rejection that’s coming, but you know it’s going to obliterate you no matter what. “Oh, Y/N.” His voice is thick, and then something wet touches your hair. “I’m so sorry. I’m so… I shouldn’t have let us stay on that planet. I would give anything to go back and stop you from going through that.” His usually steady tenor voice is low and broken. You can feel him shaking, his chest is quivering as he breathes unevenly. He sniffles. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you, that you felt you had to go through this a-alone. Baby. I’m so sorry you’re hurting.” He pulls you into a hug, one hand cradling your head against his shoulder, the other wrapping around your shoulders to squeeze you.
Shock spreads through you, numbing your limbs. Your arms fall to your sides as he hugs you, clings to you. His chest is shaking, his hands are trembling against your head. He’s crying.
“Wh-why are you crying, dummy?” You ask, finally managing to make your arms move around his waist.
“Tell me what to do. How can I help?” He murmurs.
“You think you haven’t been helping me this whole time? Poe, you’ve been wonderful. You’ve given everything to me, making sure I’m okay. I’ve been so selfish, not doing anything to help you.” You squeeze your eyes and he holds you tighter, like he can’t get you close enough to him.
“I think we just have to admit that we’re better together.” He says and you nod, fingers curling into his shirt. “I have so many questions.” He sighs, rocking you gently back and forth.
“Can we lay down? I’ll answer anything.” You say and he pulls back, smoothing your hair out of your face.
“Of course.” He kicks off his boots, wincing slightly and a whole new wave of guilt washes over you. He’s been so attentive to you, and you’ve barely stopped to consider his injuries. He unbuckles his pants and your heart climbs into your throat, skin prickling, but he merely climbs back onto the bed, laying with his head on the pillow, hand hooked behind his head. “Get yourself comfortable, sweetheart. Take your time.” He says, and you can hear the extra meaning. He doesn’t just mean clothing wise.
Maker, why does he have to be like this?
You sit at the end of the bed and carefully remove your shoes. Your fingers rest on the button of your pants, heart hammering in your chest. Your breathing speeds up as you think about what you’re about to do. You’ve hidden these from him for so long, it’s almost an instinct now to keep them secret. But Poe deserves the truth.
You unbutton them, pushing them down over your hips slowly. Hands trembling, breathing coming in short gasps. They get stuck on the bandages on your thighs, and it takes you a second to fix it. You don’t realize you’ve let out a noise until you feel his hands on yours from behind.
“Sh, it’s okay.” He says softly. “You don’t have to. If it hurts, you don’t have to.”
“N-need to. I can’t st-stand the way they twist.”
“Alright.” He climbs off the bed, kneeling in front of you. He grasps the fabric of your pants, lifting it away from your legs and sliding it down a little. He stops when it catches on another bandage. There are a dozen on your legs, both front and back, and he’s so careful. He manages to get them down to your ankles and his forehead rests against your knees.
“I’m sorry,” you start and he shakes his head so you quickly shut your mouth.
“Don’t.” He frees your ankles and looks up at you, his lashes wet with fresh tears. “Don't you dare apologize to me.” He drops his gaze back to your legs, fingers lightly tracing the edge of a bandage. “You never have to say sorry to me.” His eyes close and he takes your hands. His lips are soft as he kisses them tenderly. “Do you want me to lay down first, or you?”
“You first? Please?” You ask.
He stands up and kisses you. This one is desperate, pleading with you, but you don’t know what for. He lays back on the bed, falling absolutely still. You shuffle up to the top, starting to turn towards him. He pats his chest and so you gently rest your head on it, listening to his breathing. You drape your arm across his stomach, trying to be as light as possible, you know his ribs have to be as sore as yours are at all times. They beat him as hard as they beat you. His arm wraps around your shoulders, holding him against his side, his other hand covering yours on his stomach.
“Let go, baby. I’m okay. Get comfortable.” He promises and you slowly release your muscles, letting the full weight of your head rest on his chest.
“Ask your questions.” You whisper.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the cuts?” He asks.
“While we were there, it didn’t make sense to. I didn’t want to give you a reason to break, I had to be strong like you were. I felt guilty for getting us caught, I partially thought you would blame me, too, because I was blaming me. And then when we got back, I didn’t want you to worry, I couldn’t talk about it. The nightmares are bad enough.”
His hand squeezes on your arm slightly. “I never suspected you were in this much pain, Y/N, I never had any clue.”
“I didn’t want to show it. I know you’ve said it’s not my fault, and we can keep beating this dead bantha until the end of time-but you know guilt isn’t just erased that easily. I still feel guilty, and I know you’re having your own issues with what happened. I didn’t want to add my stuff to yours and overwhelm you.”
He brushes your hair back, playing with the strands gently. “You’re right. Guilt can’t just be absolved overnight, but I will spend the rest of forever making sure you know I don’t blame you. I never have and I never will. I wouldn’t take that kiss back for anything in the whole galaxy.”
“On the hike there, and while they were beating us that first day, I thought for sure you hated me for getting us caught.” You whisper.
“No. What I hated was the fact that you were there in the first place. The second you started to feel off I should have made us leave. There just wasn’t something right about that place, and we still don’t know what it was. Some sort of invisible predator.” He guesses, but you aren’t convinced.
“Maybe.”
“What did you talk to Leia about in the office for so long?” He asks.
“I told her about the torture, why I didn’t put it in my report, why I attacked Bryce.” You sigh. “It took me so long to get through it because I couldn’t stop crying, and then she was crying.”
“She cried for you.” He says and you smile a little. “And? Her verdict?” He prompts.
“I’ve been through enough. I should just avoid the two of them until she can figure out what to do with them.”
“He’s such a bastard. I can’t believe he said that to you.”
“It wasn’t in so many words. But he said he found a surgeon to fix me.”
“Don't make excuses for him. You don’t need to fix anything. These scars, marks, they’re a part of you. You went through hell and survived, came out the other side with your soul intact. You should be proud of them, not ashamed.” His fingers tighten a little as anger colors his voice, but you know it’s not directed at you. Not from Poe. “Is that… is that why you were avoiding me? Because you thought I would react like he did?”
“In my soul, I knew you wouldn’t, but the irrational part, the part that wouldn’t shut up-that part said yes. And I hated it, tried to talk myself out of it a million times. But what he did; it h-hurt. I couldn’t lose you like that, too. It just made sense to avoid you.”
“They don’t make me love you any less, Y/N.” He says firmly and your heart tumbles to a stop, dropping to your stomach as you register his words. Love? “I would literally do anything for you. If Leia said you were out of the Resistance, I would go with you. What you look like doesn’t change that. I don’t care about a couple marks. Maker knows, I have plenty of my own. They don’t make you love me any less, right?” He prompts and you can only shake your head. You still haven’t found your voice at his supremely casual use of the L word.
Love?
He loves you?
“Can I ask you something else? It doesn’t seem important, but I’m curious, and it’s gonna bug me if I don’t ask.”
“Go ahead.”
“Why did you apologize for getting into bed with Bryce? He’s the boyfriend, I’m the mistress.” He says and you can’t quite stifle the little laugh that escapes. It’s watery and weak, but he still manages to make you smile.
“He’s not my boyfriend anymore. But. I know how much it hurts you to talk about him. And I suppose because I felt guilty for doing it. It felt like betraying you. I guess the base truth is that I care about you more than I cared about him and I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Sweet girl. Can I request something?” His fingers brush against your cheek.
“Okay?”
“No more apologizing. It only shows me how abusive he was that you feel the need to apologize for literally anything you do. I don’t care if you run me over in the hallway. I don’t wanna hear those words, okay?”
You nod silently.
“Thank you. Get some sleep. I know you have to be as tired as I am.” He says, your eyes already drifting closed.
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