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It was night, or so the sky told him. The base was quiet, the rest of it's occupants taking advantage of the darkness to sleep.
If only he could have convinced his mind of the same.
It wasn’t unusual, the lack of shut-eye. Poe found himself awake through the night more times than he cared to admit. There seemed to be more on his mind than ever, more keeping him awake. Plans, plans, more plans. Planning and plotting and perusing. Trying to sniff out any lead that might give them a chance, that might be the breakthrough the Rebellion so desperately needed. He would lie awake and run drills in his mind, flight patterns, attack sequences, everything and anything that might help them win the next inevitable dogfight. The weight on his shoulders had never been unwelcome, even when it was an uncomfortable load that kept him from sleep.
Today, though. Today was different. Today was unwelcome and uncomfortable and un-fucking-wanted.
He’d spent the majority of the day throwing himself into whatever shred of work he could find - hell, he’d even let Snap win their last game of cards just so he could bribe him to play another round. Anything that meant avoiding exactly what he was now doing - staring at the blank ceiling, trying to ignore the way his mind raced, and the voice at the back of his head nagged at him.
BB-8, though, seemed to have tuned in perfectly to that voice and had given it life. He wasn’t sure how the little droid managed to pick his timing, perhaps he was just that simple to read, but he knew exactly what was meant by that series of bleeps from the foot of his bed.
“What?”
BB-8's head tilted to the side, almost a wordless rebuke of what exactly Poe had planned as an excuse, and he huffed in response, tilting his chin forward to look to the little droid.
“Really? You gonna look at me like that?” A sharp chatter left BB-8 as Poe sighed, before finally waving a hand as he sat up, stuffing a pillow between his back and the wall. “Alright, alright. I’ll watch it. That keep you happy? Stars, you're persistent.”
Given the suddenly brighter series of beeps from the droid, Poe took that as a yes. BB-8 rolled from the bed before turning to face the empty space in the middle of the small room, the holo he projected drenching the room in blue light as Poe hit the light switch. There was static, flickering in the darkness, before Kes Dameron’s face appeared. He looked older than Poe remembered him, but he suspected his father would have said the same about him. Kes had looked tired beyond his years for as long as Poe could remember - today though, it seemed to hang over his face more than ever.
"Hey kid, just checking in on you. You know how I get. Must be busy, what with all I hear's going on. Hope you’re taking care of yourself, remembering to eat some proper food, not just living on ration packs and stims. Getting a chance to take a run too. Can't just sit in a cockpit all day you know.”
There was a pause, an uneasy chuckle from the older man as Kes searched for words Poe knew hurt him.
“Speaking of. Took a walk along your mother’s favourite hike, up to the view point at the temple. You know she always loved to do that on her birthday. Even thought about baking her a cake, maybe… she loved that too..."
Kes’ face always seemed to glimmer with a brighter sense of life when he spoke about his mother, that Poe had always known. He knew it was bittersweet too - no sooner had Kes smiled than the cloud of Shara’s death returned to rip it from his face just as quickly. His father fidgeted uncomfortably on the screen for a moment before he spoke once more.
She’d be so proud of you, Poe, for everything you’re doing. Her son, a Rebel pilot... but not just for your flying. For standing up for what is right. For your hard work, your determination, for making a difference. For your integrity, and the hope you and the rest of the Rebellion bring to the galaxy. I know we’ve not always seen eye to eye but… I hope you know that, son. That you make us both proud. That she would-”
“Cut it.” Poe’s words broke through the video before his father could finish, his voice hoarse as he turned his gaze from the video. “Cut it now.”
BB-8 gave a rather sad, soft chirp, but did as he asked. Kes’ face disappeared as the holo shut off as the room once more fell into darkness.
She would what? Poe's attempts to fill in the blank made him feel nauseous. Since the day his mother had disappeared into the stars, never to return, Poe had found himself deafened by the silence Shara Bey had left behind. The gaping wound in their family portrait of where she had been lost to him forever.
Except for where he knew he could find her.
In one move, Poe was pushing himself up from the bed and reaching for his jacket. BB-8 barely had time to pose a question before the door to Poe's bunk slid open and the light from the hallway spilled inside, the man himself disappearing out into the corridor.
Poe had never been good at difficult emotions; naming them, feeling them, dealing with them. So he did what came best to him, what his soul so yearned for - he ran for the stars.
Through the base, through the snaking corridors and into the darkened hangar, and Poe was hoisting himself into the cockpit of Black One before he could allow himself to think any further. BB-8 was barely a step behind him, locked into the fighter without a moment's pause, and there was comfort in knowing the little droid sat behind him as he set the burners and pulled up into the night’s sky.
In a matter of moments, Poe had broken atmo, Black One thundering gracefully out amongst the stars once more. The base disappeared below them and with it, the silence that had descended upon him from the moment Kes had mentioned his mother. He wondered how many others found the comfort he did out here; how many more communed with the dead amongst these giants, sought peace in the darkness, held confession in the privacy of space and time.
As Poe pulled the craft around and peered down at the planet below, the galaxy stood still outside the cockpit, and for just a moment, he was a little boy once more; soaring past atmo out into the stars above Yavin IV, staring down at his disappearing family home. Gliding through the skies from the safety of his mother’s lap, soft hands covering his much smaller ones around the controls of her old A-wing as she guided him with such practiced ease. Shara Bey had always looked at one at the controls of a space craft. Maybe that was why Poe found his peace there too.
Ease the thrusters off. Throttle to neutral. Bring her right.
His mother’s voice came to him so easily here. For all the vastness of space, the distance that seemed unending, Poe had never felt closer to home. Closer to her . The memory of her gentle words, her teaching, her smile. The smell of sandalwood, amber, the warm spices that had comforted him through so many nightmares as a boy as he had buried his face amongst her hair, nestled in to her beneath the covers as his father snored on alongside them. The way her fingers brushed through his hair as he had clung to her side, the bright laugh that was her reply to his pleas for another run in the ship as she had swept him into her arms to dance to some old song on the radio. It was here that he could it all now, everything he held so dear. It was here he could find her now, amongst the stars where she’d always loved to be. The irony was not lost on him.
But Mama, what if something goes wrong?
It had gone wrong. She’d slipped from him with barely a breath, died alone, lost to the vastness of space. For years he had searched every star in the night sky, waiting for a glimpse of hope. Hope of hearing her bold laughter fill a room once more, hope of watching her tease his father until the man's scowl broke into laughter too. To see her waiting on him by the A-wing with the same little smirk as they evaded Kes together and took to the skies. Their shared secret. To have someone understand the pull to the stars that called him from his earliest memories, to feel that there was someone who understood him. Understood that call that drove him so desperately to defy his father with such fury in her absence, and rage against the civili defence force on Yavin who tried to ground him, and to run, run and fight and push away everything Kes and the world wanted to make him. He had ran so far away from home, to the outer reaches, to Kijimi and back, and still he found her nowhere but the stars.
Shara Bey, Resistance veteran, the Rebellion’s ace pilot, hero and legend. His mother.
Don’t be afraid. I’ll always be here to guide you, my brilliant little man.
Kriff, and he was crying . Nearly twenty-five years later, a grown man, a commander in the Resistance, and he was crying for his mother like a babe once more. Fat tears soaked his cheeks as his head met the chair behind him, the view through the cockpit blurred and Poe was entirely thankful for the lack of an audience as his composure shattered. His fingers moved to his chest, seeking out the small ring nestled so safely there, a habit brought with him from sleepless childhood nights. How many times he had wished Shara back to life, to ask, to enquire, to demand of her all the unanswered questions he held in his mind (some steeped in politics and history and life, others seemingly meaningless chit-chat). In quiet moments between missions, in the long nights on base. In the most brutal battles, with TIEs screaming around him and such chaos on the comm channels. In those moments where he seemed to cheat death by a hair’s breadth, to be flying only on a wish and a prayer, how often had she been front and centre of his mind as he’d begged for her guidance, her experience, her wisdom? Was she truly with him in his darkest moments, as Leia so often claimed the Force was?
Present. Everlasting. Luminous.
In that moment though, far away from battle in the peaceful skies above D'Qar, Poe wept for little more than her arms about him one final time. A grief-stricken little boy, standing before a gravestone, calling desperately for his mother as the rain mixed with his tears.
It was BB-8’s gentle chirp minutes (or perhaps it was hours, days) later that brought him from his memories, and with a shaking hand, Poe moved to bring the throttles to life once more, blinking through the wetness at his eyes. The stars remained the same around him, the darkness as silent as ever, and the faint sound of a quiet song he knew as a boy died as reality returned to him. “Yeah, yeah, I know buddy. Come on, let’s go back.”
The hangar was in darkness still when he landed, the majority of the crew taking advantage of the night cycle and the time to rest. Poe pulled himself from the X-wing in one smooth move, wiping a hand across his cheeks and smearing what remained of the tears across his skin as his boots met the deck. It was a short, thankfully lonely walk back to his quarters, aside from BB-8 by his feet. As the doors of his bunk slid closed behind him, Poe sank to the bed, resting his back against the wall once more as he kicked off his boots and tossed his jacket and shirt to the floor. His fingers reached for the almost weightless ring on the chain about his neck by habit, the metal cold against his skin as he turned it between his fingers in the familiar motion. Poe studied it a moment before he lifted the ring to press it to his lips, the very shape of the metal a reminder to him to breathe as his mind raced.
The room was silent. Too silent. She was gone.
His mother’s voice had left him behind in the sky as it always seemed to do; gone the moment his feet hit the deck. A secret commune held only between him, her, BB-8 and Black One, never to be spoken of, never to be shared.
Poe slipped beneath the thin covers of his bunk, the silence weighing on him, the ring still twisting between his fingers. His eyes had only just grown used to the darkness once more before blue holo light filled the room once more. Poe turned with a sigh, ready to tell BB-8 to can the unwatched portion of Kes' message before the scene played before them made him freeze. There was no sad faced elder Dameron - in his place stood a far younger Kes, face bright, handsome, full of joy. A tiny Poe appeared on his shoulders, little more than an fat-cheeked infant, with a headful of dark curls and the infectious laugh of a care-free child. The pair laughed together for a moment, before Kes leant down to a beaming Shara Bey, who barely paused before smothering both her husband and son in kisses, arms wrapping about the apir.
It hurt - by the Light, did it hurt. The image shone in Poe’s tear-filled eyes as the three laughed, such blissful happiness at being together. The ache in his chest was overwhelming, the yearning for the innocence on his face, the love on his father’s, for his mother. His beautiful, brilliant mother, with all her wild curls and bright smile, who said his name so fondly as she reached to pluck him from his father's shoulders and bundle him in tight hug. The way both Dameron men’s faces lit up at her, eyes never leaving her, both leaning to her touch and both so happy in a way Poe reckoned neither had truly been since the day she had left them.
“Where’d you get that, huh? You been colluding with the old man again? I swear, he’s getting worse the older he gets and you're no better...”
BB-8 replied with a rather upbeat chatter of confirmation and Poe was scoffing a laugh as he rubbed at his once again dampened cheeks. The video stopped as it came to the end of it’s scene, the blue light static as the image stilled before him, forever frozen in time.
“BB-8…” Poe hesitated, looking to the droid, before pulling the blanket up about his ears, curling beneath it. “Play it once more.”