Chapter Text
Pilots in their orange flight suits rush down the hallway as Poe steps out of the way to let them pass.
Some new skirmish must have popped up somewhere, or some attack by the remnants of the First — or Final — Order, and at this point Poe doesn’t really care what they call themselves — while the Resistance — or the Republic, he’s not really sure what they’re officially considered now either — rushes to respond.
Not him, though. At least not right now. There’s a part of him that wants to head to his ship, wants to take off and continue fighting, continue working to bring down the people too stubborn or too evil to finally surrender in the months following the Battle of Exegol (and he has faith that the last of the First Order will be brought down, it’s only a matter of time) . . .
But the larger part of him, the one that has been in his cockpit for sixteen straight hours, leading a command meeting for four straight hours before that (and hence why he was so desperate to get into his cockpit for sixteen hours to run a recon mission), that hasn’t had a shower or proper meal in forever, practically screams at him for a break.
They had won a kriffing war for god’s sake. He doesn’t really know what he’d imagined for his life after the war, but it certainly wasn’t this.
He drags his hands through his hair, frustrated and weary in equal measures.
Then he pats his hair back into place as he remembers why he’s headed to the command center and not to his quarters. He may still be General, but a few of the senators who had survived the Hosnian cataclysm, who were leading the charge to rebuild the Republic, had personally requested his presence, and he was too much of a military man to deny their request or to look completely disheveled when meeting them.
Then again, he had just been in his cockpit for sixteen hours and hasn’t had a proper haircut since before the war ended. He fusses with his hair a bit more before giving up on it as a hopeless cause, and hits the button to open the command center’s doors.
The small group waiting for him looks up as he enters, and they lead him into a little conference room just off to the side. He recognizes only one person in the entire group, Ransolm Casterfo. He doesn’t really know the man too well, but Leia had, and although she hadn’t talked about him often, Poe remembers the story of their time together in the Senate before the war. Concerned about the growing deadlock in the Senate, and the growing darkness in the galaxy, she and Casterfo had forged an unlikely friendship. But then the man had been manipulated by a colleague, Lady Carise Sindian, into exposing Leia as the daughter of Darth Vader, ruining her career. Although Casterfo tried to make amends and earned back some of Leia’s trust, Lady Carise had him framed for a bombing and an assassination. He had been arrested, and seemed to be set for execution.
That day, Leia had recalled with great sorrow, she had lost not only an ally, but a friend.
Yet not long after Crait, Poe and Finn had gone on a mission, and ended up rescuing Casterfo, who had been imprisoned in a labor camp set up by Kylo Ren and the First Order. The former senator had thus been recruited into the growing resistance.
Leia may have forgiven Casterfo, but Poe, ever protective of Leia, and protective of the burgeoning Republic, still had reservations about the man. Casterfo had been a centrist, Poe knew, and while not exactly a fan of the former Empire, or the Emperor and Darth Vader, he had been a great admirer of the order and precision exemplified by the Galactic Empire.
But Ransolm appeared to be an integral member of the group that stood before him today. Not surprising, considering of everyone in the group, he had probably the most prominent record in government . . . even if he had served on the wrong side of it before the First Order came along.
But Leia had trusted Ransolm, and Ransolm had worked diligently for the Resistance after his rescue, so for now, Poe has a grudging respect for the man.
Ransolm smiles, and asks after Poe, his work, his colleagues in the Resistance. The conversation moves slowly and methodically, but not surprisingly, to the allies they’ve gained since the fall of Palpatine and the Final Order, and the subsequent clean up efforts to get rid of the stragglers that continue to terrorize the galaxy.
But it’s not long before Ransolm and the rest of the group get to the point that’s brought them here today.
“I’m sure you’re aware you’re a recognizable face — a recognizable figure, really — in the new Republic. Your name is known across the galaxy as one of the heroes in the fight against the First Order,” a woman, who he discovers is named Mirram, says. She’s tall with short, thinning black hair cropped to her chin and slicked back from a high forehead. Still, her violet eyes are sharp, and if not exactly friendly, they are honest. “We need you in the government with us.”
“In the government with you? You mean, like as a liaison between the new Republic and the Resistance?” Kaydel’s effectively been put in charge of that position. There’s no one better to coordinate between the new government and the organization that’s effectively serving as their military, then someone who had served close to General Organa’s side throughout the war.
Mirram laughs, though it’s not unkind. “No, General Dameron. We need a strong voice to advocate for the citizens of the outer rim, and to ensure that the citizens are completely on board with the new government. We want to head off the problems from last time, if at all possible. We need you to step up and serve as Yavin IV’s senator.”
Poe blinks, stunned. With the government decimated, and no real leaders left following the death of Leia Organa, he knows the senators who had survived the Hosnian cataclysm and the First Order’s attempts to imprison or kill them were racing to find representatives from as many of the star systems as possible.
He doesn’t know the woman who had been speaking to him personally, but he had heard Leia speak of at least a few of the beings who stood before him now, knows that they are determined to lead the galaxy into a new era, to reform the government, to establish a stronger democratic foothold that wouldn’t be so susceptible to the likes of First Order sympathizers who had helped bring the old government down.
And apparently, they want Poe to serve with them.
Poe laughs, still in shock and more than a little uneasy. If they didn’t look so serious, he would have thought they were playing some kind of joke on him.
“Me?” At their nods of confirmation, Poe laughs again. “Why me?”
Mirram, who Poe sensed had taken on the role of the group’s leader to some extent, raises an eyebrow in what Poe thought might be amusement, if she didn’t look so stern “Yes, you. That sector of the outer rim needs a strong voice, someone to lead them, if they’re to really come on board with the Republic. It’s important to the galaxy, for many reasons, most of which I know I don’t need to tell you about.” The woman smiles, almost softly, for the first time since they had begun talking. “And it was the birthplace of the Rebellion. You know as well as I do how important that is to the galaxy. It’s a symbol of hope as much as the starbird insignia itself.”
Poe answers the smile with one of his own. Yavin IV is home. It always has been and always will be dear to his heart, as much a symbol of hope to him as it was to the wider galaxy.
He sets his memories of home aside for the moment though, and refocuses his attention back to their current conversation. “But still, why me?”
“You’re from that part of the galaxy, and I know you’ve always held strong political beliefs. You know where the old government went wrong. More importantly, you already know what needs to be done.” Then she gestures out towards the command center where Resistance soldiers continue to run around in a bustle of constant activity. “You also led a ragtag group of people to what was an improbable victory—”
“That was Lando,” he protested.
The woman smiled wider. “And Lando’s the one who recommended you.”
“He recommended me?”
“Said that you easily understood the lessons that took him years to figure out,” Mirram responds.
Poe casts about for what that could possibly be, and finally has to ask, “And what was that?”
“That when it comes to improbable victories and impossible odds, you know what it takes to win,” she says, and Poe follows her gaze towards the command center, as she continues speaking. “You know that when people work together, they can take on obstacles that seem insurmountable. You’re a natural born leader. People listen to you, they respect you, and they believe in you. They’ll follow you wherever you need them to go. And that’s why we need you with us.”
Poe’s suddenly caught in the memory of sitting at Leia’s deathbed, lost and forlorn, unable to comprehend just how they could beat the Final Order with her gone. When Lando appeared, Poe, desperate for advice, and honestly, desperate for hope, had asked him how they had won the rebellion.
With much more confidence and fortitude than Poe could ever begin to comprehend in the face of so much tragedy, Lando had told him, “We did it together.”
Minutes later, Poe found Finn and did the smartest thing he’s ever done. He made Finn his co-general.
He thought he felt Leia’s presence beside him at that moment, amused and approving in equal measure. He had been her righthand for years, as she encouraged him and taught him how to step up and become the leader she knew he was always meant to be.
But like Lando had said, Poe knew they had to do it together.
And now he feels Leia’s presence beside him once again, though he can only hope that she understands when he says, “Thank you for the offer. It’s a great honor, truly . . . but I have to decline.”
Mirram’s eyebrows jump high enough to almost reach her hairline, while next to her, the Twi’lek’s lekku twitches in . . . annoyance, maybe? Surprise? Poe’s unsure, but he doesn’t have time to consider it when Mirram asks, “You say it’s a great honor, but then decline?”
Poe sighs, shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I’m not who you’re looking for. I’m not a politician. That’s never been my skillset. And honestly . . . that’s not what I want either. It’s not how I imagined my life after war going.”
Poe wonders what Leia would think of his turning down their offer. Even after her death, Poe despairs of disappointing her, of failing her.
It’s Ransolm who asks, “And what did you imagine for your life after war?”
Poe doesn’t have a particularly well-thought out response for that. He’s not entirely certain he ever really thought he’d make it out alive, and even in the aftermath, he’s been so busy, and so tired, that he still hasn’t had much time to think about it. “Honestly, I thought maybe I’d go back to Yavin IV for a bit, but other than that, I haven’t given it much thought. But being a politician full time? That’s not me.”
The senators exchange long looks with each other, and then finally, after one more assessing gaze, Mirram’s lips twitch up in a smile as she says, “I have an idea.”
***
As his ship hits hyperspace, Poe makes sure the autopilot is set before heading to the main hold, stroking his hand along the sleek walls as he walks down the hallway.
It was a bit of a surprise really. He never expected that a benefit of saying no to government leaders would be his own personal ship, even if he’s a little disappointed it wasn’t his x-wing (though he’ll get another one soon enough, he imagines). Then again, for all of this ship’s new features and efficient technology, it didn’t feel nearly as good as flying the Falcon had, with all its quirks and history, and he finds himself missing that old ship.
That thought inevitably leads him to Rey.
She had been so quiet after returning from Exegol. Sure, there were the initial happy tears, her quiet sniffling as she pulled him and Finn closer towards her, the quiet moments shared huddled closed together only broken when all their voices came together with murmurs of you’re alive, you’re alive and we made it and we did it, and so many other pleased declarations that while he can’t recall the exact words, he remembers the feeling of it all. Relief, victory, love, sorrow, happiness, joy.
It’s a wonder anyone can hold all those feelings at once.
He thinks in many ways she bore the brunt of it all, especially at the end. He knows bits and pieces, knows that she had died and then lived. She told them a little about it, clutching his and Finn’s hands as they had stepped off together, finding some place secluded and private just for themselves in the immediate aftermath.
And he understands trauma and its ramifications, he truly does, haunted to this day by torture and death and grief, so much grief, even if he can’t begin to imagine what she’s been through. And after, after it all — she grew quieter. Or at least she had with him. He knows that while the three of them all love each other, are bonded together as much as anyone could be, he knows his relationship with Rey is more . . . unclear. His relationship with Finn is filled with words, almost always happy and delighted, while with Rey . . . they bantered, they fought, they challenged and teased each other, they even shared some quieter, contemplative moments . . . but he knows that she shares most of her quiet, contemplative moments with Finn, shares her deepest thoughts with him. They have a bond he can’t quite completely understand.
What did you want to tell Rey?
You mean, you’ll tell her when Poe’s not here?
He realizes he’s been standing in front of R2-D2 in the main hold for, well, awhile now.
He blinks, almost sure that the unmoving face of the droid is somehow . . . judging him? Laughing at him? He’s not sure, but he goes to sit on the bench beside him.
“You ready, buddy?”
With an affirmative beep, R2 extends his recorder so Poe can prepare some holomessages.
He flips through the list of messages he needs to respond to, starts recording replies to some of the regional leaders in the outer rim who remain in the aftermath of the war. When those are complete, he prepares messages for some of his old teachers at the military academy, asking for their help, and if they couldn’t afford that, then maybe just some advice.
After the last of those are finished, he looks down at his chronometer, sees that almost three hours have passed since he had begun his task. He sighs and rubs his temples.
R2 asks him if he wants to take a break.
“Just need a minute,” he says, quickly standing to grab a glass of water. He wonders, for what must be the fiftieth time today, how Leia managed to handle all of the logistics and the paperwork and the meetings and the messages. It’s almost incomprehensible to him that somehow she managed to do it all without going crazy.
He wishes, for what also what must be the fiftieth time, that Kaydel was here to help him out. But she’s halfway across the galaxy coordinating the relationship between the new Republic and the military, so she’s a little busy.
When he returns to R2, there are still another half dozen messages to go through. When he completes them, he sits back, gulping down the last of his water, quickly getting lost in his thoughts.
He’s still so unsure and uncertain about everything, still doesn’t feel like he can be the leader that they need him to be.
And Leia . . . why had she thought that he could do this?
He still has no idea, but he’s determined to try all the same.
R2 interrupts him to ask, “Are we done recording for now?”
He thinks about it for a brief moment, but shakes his head. He’s finished the last of his priority calls, but he wants to take a few minutes for his friends, the ones who make all this worthwhile.
He addresses the next message to Finn, who is off on his own mission with Jannah and Lando and his own team. Poe’s a little disappointed that he can’t talk to his friend on a live call right now, but he understands why they’re so busy.
“Hey buddy!” He begins cheerfully. “I was so happy to hear your last message. Hopefully the droids you have will help you sift through all those datapoints. I can’t even begin to imagine how much information you’re gleaning from those databases. But can I just say how absolutely incredible you are? It’s a big task but if anyone can find the stormtrooper’s families and reconnect them, it’s you. I’m so proud of you all, and I wish I could be there to help, but I’ve got some big news to tell you myself. But my destination is quickly approaching, and I’ve got a few more calls to make, so I’ll have to tell you about it next time. Hope to see you soon too!”
He ends the message to Finn and then tries to reach Beebee in a live call, but when he can’t, he records another message.
“Hey buddy!” He begins cheerfully once again, grinning at the feeling of déjà vu that rolls through him at those words. “I’ve got some big news and I can’t wait to tell you about it. But I thought you might want to know that I’m headed home to Yavin IV for now. I’ve got a big project to work on, and I hope you’ll be happy about it.”
He pauses for a moment, and then, “I miss you, buddy. But I know you’re where you need to be for now. I hope you’re taking care of Rey — that you’re taking care of each other. I’m going to send her a message now too, but I just wanted to say hello and check in with you. Talk to you soon, Beebee.”
He ends the call and is immediately hit with an intense wave of loneliness. He’s been so incredibly busy since the war ended, that he hasn’t really had time to realize just how terribly he misses Finn and Beebee and Rey.
He thought that by the time he got to recording the message to Rey that he would know what to say to her. He hasn’t heard from her as often as he’s heard from Finn, and in those messages, she’s been . . . quiet.
But he misses her just the same. He hopes that she knows that he cares for her deeply, that he considers her one of his closest friends, just like Finn and Beebee. But he worries, does their bond, as deep as it is, only consist of bickering? He knows that there was tension between them, the two of them often having competing ideas of how best to approach the war, but he couldn’t have just imagined all the rest of it, could he? Or maybe it was just a relationship born and bred of war, and now that the war was over, she was already forgetting him?
Well, she has Beebee, so he knows they’ll see each other again soon enough.
The last he heard from her she was traveling, unsure of her final destination but eager to learn more.
She had also mentioned she had just finished building a lightsaber.
He knows that it would be something to see, an impressive sight for sure.
He nods at R2 to begin recording. “Hey—” he starts and then suddenly realizes hey buddy doesn’t feel quite right, and coughs a little as he suddenly stops talking.
He motions to R2 to begin the message again.
“Hi Rey,” he starts again, his words coming out a little smoother, at least at the beginning. But he flubs his way through the rest of the message, asking what she’s up to now, where she’s at, has she spoken to Finn recently?
Then, “Some of the senators wanted me to join them in government, can you believe that?” He shakes his head, still in disbelief. “I declined, but I think I’ve found something else to do instead. I’m headed to Yavin IV now.”
He continues, “And you know, I was thinking about it, and it seems like it’s your kind of place. I think you’d like it. It’s a jungle and that means . . . well, it’s humid and rainy and way too hot a lot of the time, but it’s also so green and there’s so much . . . life there.” And he stops, lets himself linger in his memories of home for a moment. “If you ever wanted to visit, I just thought you should know you’re welcome to come. You’re always welcome. For however long.” He smiles into the projection for a long moment, before the alert informing them that they were about to come out of hyperspace breaks into the otherwise quiet of the ship.
He smiles, a bit rueful. “And it looks like I’m just about there, so I have to go. But I hope you’re doing well. And I hope to see you soon, I really do.” He pauses and finishes. “Take care, Rey.”
He stops recording and heads to the cockpit.
Within moments, he’s setting down in a large clearing near a familiar homestead.
And then he’s running down the ramp and straight into his father’s arms.
His father clutches him close, and as tears stream down both their faces, Kes says, “Welcome home, son. I’ve missed you.”