Stars by the Pocketful - Chapter 1 ; PG-13
Title: Stars by the Pocketful
Chapter: Chapter 1
Fandom: Star Wars ; Poe Dameron/OFC
Rating: PG-13
Summary: This year, especially with Black Squadron, Poe finds the balance harder to keep in equity.
i. Poe
One night, a few moons ago
I saw flecks of what could’ve been lights
But it might just have been you
Passing by unbeknownst to me
Life Day has always been a bittersweet affair for Poe Dameron for as long as he can remember. Growing up on Yavin 4, Life Day celebrations always consisted of waking up to a sombre breakfast with his dad, before going to visit his mother’s grave by the uneti tree.
And, every year since he was nine, without fail, Kes Dameron would tell Poe that he could feel his deceased wife next to the Force-sensitive tree, more so during this Kashyyyk-origin day.
“It's like she’s right here with us now,” his father would sigh, squeezing Poe’s shoulder.
For those first few years after Shara Bey’s death, it did bring him some form of consolation. In fact, he would go so far as to believe what Kes told him was true.
However, the little, simple act of remembrance turned heavy for Poe, when he started taking it seriously, and tried to “feel” for his mother proper. He was often left disappointed - sometimes even guilty - for not “sensing” her the way his father would.
Poe can’t quite remember now which year it was when the veteran Pathfinder found him crying by his mother’s grave, guilt-stricken that he’d stopped loving his mother for not being able to “feel” her.
Kes had to come clean that it was all just a ruse to help him get through the tough years without his mother; not unlike parents from a planet in a galaxy far, far away finally revealing to their coming-of-age children that Santa Claus isn’t real.
It was the first, big parental mistake Kes made as a single parent, and it is a kind of childhood trauma that stuck with Poe as he became an adult, whenever someone speculates that he is Force-sensitive or not due to his adept flying as a fighter pilot.
But, contrary to what he believed when he couldn’t “feel” his mother’s presence, Poe’s love for Shara Bey never wavers as he grows older. He still thinks about her often - from the adolescent years when he slipped his burgeoning hips into his mother’s A-wing, to his tenure with the New Republic Defence Fleet during his adulthood. From the times he sneaked off to the stars for a few barrel rolls around the red gas giant of Yavin Prime, to the subsequent missions on board Black One when he’d manoeuvred the L’ulo Stand to get out of tight spots.
Poe still thinks about his mother every time junior pilots under his mentorship finally nailed the backwards tailslide; they remind him of the times she taught him to fly in her A-wing, nestled between her safe embrace and the controls.
He still thinks about his mother every time he feels for the cool metal of her wedding ring resting against his palpably frenzied heart before heading out to every-single- mission he’s ever been on - properly assigned, or secretively unsanctioned otherwise, including those times he tried to outrun the Yavin 4 Civil Defence.
The love Poe keeps for his mother balances the sweet to the bitter of Life Day.
On Yavin 4, the quiet, reflective mornings with his father by Shara Bey’s grave were conceivably more of the bitter. Whereas, the sweet was the hearty laughter and crackling sparklers with the village kids the rest of the day; and as he grew older, the long, drunken nights with a plethora of alcoholic beverages served at Gully’s cantina, which Kes frowned upon when he found his son passed out in the Damerons’ koyo ranch the next morning.
This delicate balance shifted on the axis, when he joined the New Republic Defence Fleet and afterwards, the Resistance. When he began experiencing deaths and losses that were only his to bear, none that he could share with his father, Poe had only this love he’s been keeping vigil for his mother to sweeten the bitter taste of Life Day whenever it rolls around.
This year, especially with Black Squadron, Poe finds the balance harder to keep in equity.
He has lost two of his dear friends - Oddy Muva, his kind-hearted and unsuspecting (or so the commander thought) technician; and L’ulo L’ampar, the veteran fighter who flew alongside his mother, and was like family to him growing up.
Right then, in the mess hall of the Resistance base on D’Qar, he feels like he is losing the entire Black Squadron, even though they’ve completed General Leia Organa’s missions to track down Lor San Tekka, and the collective will disband on a good note, with the rest of his squadron - his second-in-command Snap Wexley, Snap’s newlywed wife Karé Kun, and the ever-so-courageous Jessika Pava, still alive and in one piece, sitting next to him, raising their glasses for his anticipatory toast.
Snap nudges Poe favourably, and draws the commander out of his deep thoughts. Black Leader looks up, and pulls a tight smile at Black Two, Three and Four staring back at him with equally reassuring smiles upon their faces.
“To Black Squadron,” he exhales audibly, and meets each and every one of their eyes intently. “The wins we got along the way, and the losses we’ll carry the rest of the way.”
“Hear, hear,” they mumble in unison, smiles breaking under crinkled eyes, as their glasses and bottles meet for a concert clink at the centre of the table.
Yeah, this is the bitter part for him on Life Day on D’Qar that year, as he takes a long swig from his bottle of KyLessian Fruit Distillate, the citrusy flavours of Wulfruit tree dancing on his tongue as he recounts the loss of a third of his squadron, and the rest redeploying to the other squadrons in the Resistance.
The sweet part though - besides, of course, his extant squad members, and the series of successful missions they completed in their collective effort to track down Lor San Tekka; not to mention, the bread crumbs that will lead them to Luke Skywalker when the parish explorer ascertains the last Jedi’s whereabouts, before finally, snuffing out whispers of a mustering First Order that everyone in the New Republic remains ignorant about…
Her - she is the sweetest part that helps keep the balance mere memories of Poe’s mother has been doing for him the last few decades.
She has been the sweetest part of all the days he calls life since he joined the Resistance almost three years ago.
A smile tweaks at the corner of his lips, as they close over the mouth of the bottle for another taste of the liquor that is equal parts sweet as the thoughts in his head.
Poe tries to pay attention to the conversation among his squadron members, as his eyes stray and widen the periphery to the rest of the mess hall, where the surrounding hubbub of Resistance members in blue, red, green and gold fraternise with one another.
Bellowing laughters and low head-nodding murmurs flood his senses as he scans through drabbed brown jumpsuits dotting huddles of deep orange flight suits, some in seemingly thoughtful exchanges as they pore over techpads, probably in talks about potential upgrades for the pilots’ X-wings.
The techs and mechs glare on seriously, either already figuring out how to persuade the headstrong pilots out of whatever death-defying booster installations they are proposing, or reaching non-verbal resolutions that they might actually work.
His eyes focus in on each and every one of the faces that came with the muddy-coloured jumpsuits - none of them were hers.
“She’s at the hangar, Poe,” Snap says out of a sudden, once again and quite literally snapping Poe out of his thoughts.
The commander turns his attention back to his squadron, the conversation they were in has ended Poe doesn’t know when, and all three of them are looking at him rather amusedly.
“Who is now?” he murmurs, seemingly to himself, as his facial muscles loosened to nonchalance.
Jessika meets Karé’s raised eyebrow briefly, and shakes her head with a sighing smile.
“She was here earlier, had a few drinks and she went off - said something about some solar excitations?” she informs the commander with a shrug. “Asked to take my X-wing up.”
“Huh. Interesting…” He feigns with raised brows and pursed lips.
Black Two, Three and Four fix their gazes on the squirming Black Leader, as he takes another sip from his drink, all three of them waiting to see the commander do what they know he will do next.
They don’t need to look over their shoulders to know there is no one there, when Poe perks up and nods at the phantom figure behind them.
“Hey, that’s uh, what’s-his-face - I’m gonna go… you know, talk to him about - you know,” Poe stammers, already clambering to get up; trying to make it seem casual while at the same time, not trip over his surging heart.
“Yeah - you go do that, commander,” Snap sniggers in disbelief, as the three of them watch Poe stumble through the cramped mess hall towards the exit, not quite sure why he keeps up the charade with them when things have been plenty obvious for all of them to see the last three years.