Star Wars: The Force Awakens fic rec.Title: What Makes Us, Us by faithharkness
Title: What Makes Us, Us
Author: faithharkness/ @lyssawrotethat
Category: Gen and also Rey/Poe
Characters: Rey, Poe Dameron, Finn, Jessika Pava, Ben Solo, mentioned are Leia Organa, Nien Nunb, Chewbacca and Han Solo
Word count: 1,599
Summary: Part of the Diversions series that I recommended the other day.
A five plus one fic for the people in the Diversions ‘verse.
*
This fic is a “five” fic, the first describes Poe, then Rey, then Finn, then Jessika and then Ben Solo. And there’s a DameRey plus 1 as well. There’s some lovely backstory speculation about our favourite characters and as always, it’s just really well written. Of course the problem is, this fic got me thinking about Things. The fic has Ben Solo and Poe Dameron knowing one another and climbing trees together as children. So this leads me to ask myself spoilery questions that I will put beneath the cut.
- Who knows that Kylo Ren is Ben Solo?
- Does the Resistance know that the General's son is a high-ranking First Order Bad Guy? I know this isn't Our World, but in This World, having a relative/friend who was a member of an enemy/terrorist group would mean that you probably wouldn't be able to be in a position to make significant decisions.
- Snoke knows, but does anyone else in the First Order know that Kylo Ren's mum is leading the Resistance? Same issues goes as for above i.e. if they know his parents are leaders in the Resistance, that would diminish him in the eyes of his subordinates.
- Does Poe recognise Ben Solo at all or does the mask completely fool him?
Kylo Ren would recognise Poe but if you read extracts from the script and the novelisation below, there is nothing in there that indicates that he does NOT recognise Poe. It's worded very neutrally.
*
First meeting between Poe and Kylo Ren
Script
Kylo Ren RAISES HIS HAND -- POE'S BLAST FREEZES -- THE BOLT OF ENERGY STRAINING AND VIBRATING IN MID AIR!
Kylo Ren sees Poe, who suddenly CANNOT MOVE, but strains to. He is grabbed by Stormtroopers who drag him past the VIBRATING, FROZEN BLAST, to Kylo Ren.
A Stormtrooper begins a brutal PAT DOWN. Kylo Ren moves closer. Poe just glares. The Stormtrooper KICKS OUT Poe's legs -- he lands hard on his knees.
Kylo Ren kneels to look at Poe.
POE
So who talks first? You talk first?
KYLO REN
The old man gave it to you.
POE (indicates Kylo's mask)
It's just very hard to understand you with all the...
KYLO REN (to troopers)
Search him.
POE
... Apparatus.
The Troopers roughly pull Poe away. A Stormtrooper begins a brutal PAT DOWN. Kylo Ren moves closer.
Poe just glares as the pat down ends.
STORMTROOPER #1
Nothing, sir.
KYLO REN
Put him on board.
*
Novelisation
POE SAW THE sabre come to life. Saw it start to describe its lethal arc. Time seemed to slow as he watched it descend. Thoughts raced through his mind, half crazed, wholly powerless. He heard himself yelling, sensed himself raising his blaster and firing. Too late, too slow, he told himself despondently even as he continued to fire.
Perceiving the threat, Kylo Ren reacted immediately. A hand rose sharply, palm facing toward the unknown assailant. The gesture was merely the physical manifestation of something infinitely more powerful and entirely unseen. It intercepted the discharge from the pilot’s weapon, freezing it in midair as effectively as any solid barrier. From behind the mask, eyes of preternatural intensity tracked the attack to its source.
Initially driven by pure rage, Poe now found that he could not move. His heart pounded, his lungs heaved, but his voluntary muscles refused to respond. He was paralyzed as effectively as the blast from his blaster.
A pair of stormtroopers took hold of him and dragged him forward until he stood helpless before the impassive Ren. Had they not held on to him, Poe would simply have fallen over. He attempted bravado even so. “Who talks first?” Poe asked, making his voice light. “Do you talk first? Do I talk first?”
Having deactivated his lightsabre and returned it to his belt, Lor San Tekka’s murderer casually scrutinized the prisoner. Poe’s nerves twanged as feeling slowly began to return to his arms and legs. Ren’s gaze settled on the details of the pilot’s clothing.
“A Resistance pilot, by the looks of him.” He nodded curtly. “Search him. Thoroughly.”
One of the troopers who had dragged Poe forward commenced a detailed and none too gentle pat down. Pulling a small device from his service belt, the other trooper slowly passed it the length of the prisoner’s body, beginning at the pilot’s head and ending at his feet. The examination did not take long.
“Nothing,” declared the first stormtrooper, standing at attention.
Poe winked up at the trooper who had used his hands. “Good job.”
Forgetting himself for a moment, the goaded trooper kicked the prisoner’s legs out from under him. Poe went down hard on his knees, still defiant.
The other trooper gestured with the handheld instrument. “Same here, sir. Internally, this one is clean. Nothing but the expected food residue.” He didn’t hesitate. “Terminate him?”
Kylo Ren did not let his disappointment show. At such times momentary delays were not unexpected. All would be satisfactorily resolved, in good time.
“No. Keep him.” A brief pause, then, “Intact and functioning.”
Plainly disappointed, the two troopers dragged Poe away. Ren watched them for a moment, contemplating possibilities. Later, he told himself. For now, there were other details to attend to. He allowed his thoughts to be briefly diverted, regretting the time that had been wasting in dealing with necessary inconsequentialities.
Interrogation scene and escape
Script
STAR DESTROYER HOLDING CELL - DAY POE, shackled to a chair, BEATEN, wakes up.
KYLO REN
I had no idea we had the best pilot in the Resistance on board.
Comfortable?
POE through battered lips:
Not really.
KYLO REN
I'm impressed. No one has been able to get out of you what you did with the map.
POE
Might wanna rethink your technique.
Kylo Ren says nothing, reaches out to him. Poe flinches in the chair as Kylo Ren reaches for his face, not touching him. Poe is soon in agony, remains in horrible silence -
POE
The Resistance will not be intimidated by you.
KYLO REN
Where... is it?
Poe can't take it -- he BEGINS TO SCREAM
*
The cell door WHOOSHES OPEN -- a STORMTROOPER enters. Poe remains shackled, worse for wear.
STORMTROOPER
Ren wants the prisoner.
TIGHT ON POE, in pain, drained, as the Guard unshackles him.
INT. STAR DESTROYER CORRIDOR - DAY
An exhausted, handcuffed Poe is walked down the corridor by the Stormtrooper, who holds a blaster at Poe's body.
STORMTROOPER
Turn here.
Poe turns into a narrow passageway --
Heading down the narrow hall the Stormtrooper stops Poe.
STORMTROOPER
Listen carefully: you do exactly as I say, I can get you out of here.
POE
(coming to) If -- what--?
The Stormtrooper pulls off his helmet: IT IS FN-2187.
FN-2187
This is a rescue, I'm helping you escape. Can you fly a TIE fighter?
POE
You with the Resistance--?!
FN-2187
What? That's crazy! No no no! I'm breaking you out. Can you fly a TIE fighter?
POE
I can fly anything. Why, why are you helping me?
FN-2187
Because it's the right thing to do.
POE (it hits him)
You need a pilot.
FN-2187
I need a pilot.
And Poe, seeing this is for real, smiles a hero's smile.
POE
We're gonna do this.
FN-2187 (unsure but hopeful)
... Yeah?
Novelisation
THE HOLDING CELL had no bars. They were not needed. There was nowhere aboard the ship for a prisoner to go. Even had there been, the single occupant was shackled tightly to his chair, unable to do more than turn his head. Poe knew he should have been flattered. They were taking no chances with him. But all he could think about was how he had failed his mission.
So sunk was he in depression that he scarcely reacted when they beat him. Delivered with practiced skill, designed to hurt but not result in permanent damage, the blows fell intermittently, at different times of the day on different parts of his body. He did his best to shut out the pain, much as he succeeded in shutting out the questions. What he did not know was that they were merely a softening-up, an introduction to his principal interrogator.
That formidable individual arrived in due course. Recognizing him from the attack on the village, Poe threw himself against his bonds in a final, supreme effort to break free. Demanding the last of his strength, the failure left him completely exhausted. It was just as well, he consoled himself. Fighting against the figure now standing before him would be counterproductive at best. Fighting and resistance, however, were two different things, and he resolved to focus what remained of his energy on the latter. Doubtless his inquisitor could sense his determination. Was the masked figure smiling? There was no way to tell.
While his interrogator’s greeting was far from challenging, the sarcasm underlying Kylo Ren’s words was plain enough.
“I had no idea we had the best pilot in the Resistance on board. Revealing yourself through your futile attempt on my life was foolish. Revenge is little more than an adolescent concession to personal vanity. Even had you not been slow and ill-prepared, Tekka was already dead. Comfortable?”
Poe did his best to sound nonchalant. “Not really.” He gestured as best he could with a shackled hand. “The accommodations leave something to be desired.”
“I regret the necessity. They are gratuitous in my presence. But those others who have made your acquaintance possess only the most primitive abilities, and further defiance on your part would demand their unnecessary exertions.” He bent toward the prisoner. “None of this unpleasantness need be necessary. We both wanted the same thing from the old man. Perhaps he was more forthcoming with you than he was with me.”
Poe made a show of seriously considering the proposal before replying phlegmatically, “Might wanna rethink your technique. Hard to get cooperation from a dead man.”
Ren stood back, looming over the prisoner. “A truism on which you might personally wish to reflect. It is pathetic, though. Is it not? You and I, both in pursuit of a ghost.” His tone darkened. “Where did you put it?”
Poe stared up at him innocently. “Where did I put what?”
“Please. All time is transitory, and mine especially so. This will go more quickly and less awkwardly if we dispense with childish nonsense.”
Poe readied himself. “The Resistance will not be intimidated by you.”
“As you wish, then. There is no ‘Resistance’ in this room. Only the pilot Poe Dameron. And I.”
A hand extended toward the shackled prisoner. Silent agony followed soon after.
“Tell me,” Ren murmured. “Tell me.”
*
Slumped and shackled in the seat, Poe was still breathing. Beyond that, he no longer cared much what happened to him. It wasn’t his fault, he kept telling himself. For an ordinary person, no matter how strong they thought themselves, resisting the probing of a creature like Kylo Ren was simply not possible. He had tried. There was no shame in the failure.
He didn’t much care what they might do with him now, though he could guess. Having given up what little of value he had possessed, he was no longer of any use to them. There was nothing about X-wing weapons systems the First Order did not already know, and as a mere pilot, he would not be expected to know anything about military movements or tactics. He had rendered himself expendable. No, not expendable. Less than that. He was now extraneous. As such, he doubted they would keep him alive. He would not receive food, but he might become it.
His head came up as the door to the holding cell whooshed open and a stormtrooper entered. At least, Poe mused, it would be over soon. He could look forward to freedom from any further tormenting thoughts. The trooper’s words to the room’s single guard surprised him, however.
“I’m taking the prisoner to Kylo Ren.”
Poe sagged in his seat. What more did they want from him? Everything, anything of value that he had known was now known to them. Had they overlooked some line of questioning? He could not think of one. But then, at the moment, his mind was not functioning properly.
The guard wondered, too. “I was not told to expect you. Why would Ren wish to question the prisoner outside the cell?”
The new arrival’s voice darkened. “Do you dare to question Kylo Ren’s motives?”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant! I…” Without another word, the guard proceeded to release the prisoner from his shackles. It took twice as long as it should have, since in his sudden nervousness he kept fumbling the task.
Procedure demanded that the trooper keep his weapon trained on the prisoner at all times as together they made their way down the corridor. Another time, another place, Poe might have considered making a grab for it. But he was far too weakened to contemplate such a likely fatal effort. In any case, the trooper seemed as competent as all his kind and gave no indication of relaxing his vigilance.
A rough prod with the weapon’s muzzle caused Poe to stumble and nearly fall. So exhausted was he that he could not even raise an objection or mutter a curse.
“Turn here,” the trooper commanded sharply.
The passageway they entered seemed unusually narrow and poorly lit. In contrast to the one they had just left, they encountered no personnel. No troopers, no techs, no general crew.
A gloved hand clutching his shoulder brought him to a halt. Poe took in his claustrophobic surroundings. An odd place to carry out an execution, he thought resignedly. Apparently they were not going to make a show of him.
The trooper’s words came low and fast. “Listen carefully and pay attention. You do exactly as I say, I can get you out of here.”
Within Poe’s wounded brain something like cognizance stirred. He turned and gawked at the trooper’s mask. “If…what? Who are you?”
In lieu of reply, the trooper removed his helmet-a helmet that had been cleaned of the blood that had been smeared across it by the flailing hand of a dying trooper far below, in the course of a minor battle on an obscure corner of the planet Jakku.
“Will you be quiet and just listen to me? This is a rescue. I’m helping you escape.” When a stunned Poe didn’t respond, the trooper shook his shoulder firmly. “Can you fly a TIE fighter?”
Poe finally stopped gaping at the dark-skinned young man and found his voice. “What’s going on here? Are you-with the Resistance?”
“What?” The trooper indicated their surroundings. “That’s crazy! How long do you think anyone with Resistance sympathies would last on a ship like this? You’re under continuous observation. You so much as wink the wrong way and before you know it, the psytechs are all over you. No, I’m just breaking you out.” He cast a nervous glance up and down the narrow, dim corridor. “Can you fly a…”
Having long since surrendered anything resembling hope, it took Poe more than a moment to begin regaining it. “I can fly anything. Wings, no wings, push-pull echo force, in or out of lightspeed-just show it to me. But why are you helping me?”
The trooper spoke while staring nervously down the corridor. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”
Poe shook his head, not buying it for a second. “Buddy, if we’re gonna do this, we have to be honest with each other.”
The trooper stared at him for a long moment. “I need a pilot.”
Poe nodded. A wide grin broke across his face. “Well, you just got me.”
FN-2187 was taken aback by Poe’s quick agreement. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Poe insisted. “We’re gonna do this. If you can get me into something that flies, that is.”
The trooper slipped his helmet back over his head. For an instant, the whole enterprise teetered on the edge of believability. Was he being set up? Poe wondered. No longer needed, was he being made the subject of some cruel psychological trial, only to be thrown away at the conclusion? Yet there was something about the trooper that made Poe feel he could trust him. His manner, his look: There was something that said “throw in your lot with this one and you won’t be sorry that you did.”
The trooper pointed back in the direction they had come. “This way. And stop looking so positive. Optimism doesn’t fit a prisoner’s profile.”
Poe obediently lowered his head and adopted as morose an expression as possible. Once, as they re-entered the main corridor, a hint of a smile broke through, to be quickly quashed.
The longer no one intercepted them and no one questioned their passage, the more Poe dared to allow himself to hope. What they were attempting bordered on the insane. Escaping from the custody of the First Order, much less from inside a Star Destroyer, was nearly impossible.
Nearly.
The very unfeasibility of it worked in their favor. He could not be a prisoner trying to escape, because prisoners simply did not escape. Just as stormtroopers did not desert their posts to facilitate such flight.
Ordinary troopers were one thing; the group of officers coming toward them as they entered the hangar was quite something else. Face still resolutely aimed downward, Poe tensed and fought not to meet their eyes. Beside him, the trooper nudged him gently with the end of his blaster and muttered tightly.
“Stay calm, stay calm.”
Poe swallowed as the officers drew near-and walked on by.
“I am calm,” Poe whispered.
“I was talking to myself,” the trooper explained as they maintained their methodical tread toward the far side of the enclosure.
“Oh, boy,” Poe whispered, this time to himself.
“Act nervous,” the trooper advised him. “As if you’re being sent to your doom.”
Poe swallowed. “Thanks for the tip.”
The craft they were approaching was a Special Forces TIE fighter. Poe couldn’t help it-raising his gaze, he raked the ship with his eyes. If one discounted its origins, its dark angles took on a deadly beauty. No one stood near it: no techs, no maintenance workers, and no guards. What reason could there be to have to post a guard beside a ship inside a Star Destroyer? The entry hatch was open. Open and inviting: He had to will himself not to break into a run. There was no telling if the fighter was functional, or if it was being monitored by automated hangar security. The hangar’s atmosphere was contained, of course. Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to speculate about such things, since he would be a cold, dead protein crisp floating in space. How to get the massive access portal open?
One thing at a time, he told himself. Get to the ship first. Then get on board. Find out if it was operational.
What might torpedo the idea that they knew each other as children, though is this bit from Before the Awakening when Poe meets Leia Organa, apaprently for the 'first' time.
*
There was a woman at the desk, her head down, working with a datapad. Poe waited, aware he was dripping water on the floor. He realized he was still holding his flight helmet and felt slightly foolish, so he set it down on the seat of one of the empty chairs, and when he straightened up again the woman had risen and was looking at him intently, as if she could see not through him but rather into him. She was older than Ematt, with braided hair pinned tightly in place. She was short, but that was only her height, not her stature. Something about her didn’t seem just to fill the space but to command it. She was in uniform, but it wasn’t Republic, not quite. It looked as if it had started that way and then, at some point, turned in favor of serviceable rather than ceremonial. She was unquestionably beautiful, almost regal.
“Commander Dameron,” the woman said. “Do you know who I am?”
Poe nodded. He was acutely aware, now, that his flight suit was soaked with rain and sweat, that he likely smelled like the hind end of a bantha, and that he had disobeyed direct orders that had come down not just from Deso but higher. From as high as Command. From as high as the Senate, perhaps.
He came to attention, snapped a salute, and held it.
“General Organa,” he said.
General Leia Organa left her gaze on him for a second more, her expression unchanged, brown eyes seeming sad and weary and strong all at once. Then she waved a hand, dismissing the salute, as if bored by the need for such things.
“At ease. Have a seat, Poe. I’m going to call you Poe, if that’s all right.”
“Whatever you like, General.”
“I like Poe.” She moved from behind the desk and hooked one of the nearby chairs with the toe of her boot, pulling it into position before taking a seat. She gestured to the empty chairs, and Poe took one and turned it to face her.
“You should see your expression,” General Organa said. She smiled, and that, too, touched her eyes, gave them a warmth that made Poe feel like he was nine again. “I’m not that frightening, surely.”
“No, ma’am. Not…no, ma’am.”
“The problem with a reputation is that it can become a legend.” General Organa tugged at the shoulder of her uniform, adjusting it. She shrugged. “Don’t be deceived, Poe. I’m not a legend.”
Poe grinned and shook his head. “You’re not sitting where I’m sitting, General.”
“I’m a soldier, Poe. Like you. A soldier with rank and experience, too much experience, perhaps. But just another soldier.”
“If you say so, ma’am.”
“I do. And stop calling me ma’am.”
“Yes, General.”
She chuckled. “Oh, it’s going to be like that, is it? All right, Commander Dameron. Do you know why you’re here?”
Poe shook his head. Three minutes earlier, he’d have been relatively certain of the answer: that he was, at best, about to be knocked down to private and grounded for life.
“Tell me about the Yissira Zyde,” Leia said. “Everything.”
She listened intently, her chin in her hand, her elbow on her knee. Poe couldn’t remember ever having felt so heard by anyone in all his life. When he talked about the encounter at OR-Kappa-2722 she rose, moved to the maps marking fleet and troop movements, and examined them as she asked him to keep on speaking. She made notations on each map before returning to her seat, and when Poe finished she remained silent for almost a minute, staring past his shoulder at nothing, or perhaps at something only she could see. Memory or the future, Poe didn’t know which. Finally, she focused on him again.
“That was exceptionally foolish of you,” Leia said. “You barely got out of there with your life.”
“In my defense, General, there’s no way I could’ve known I’d find a First Order staging point.”
“But you hoped you would. Or something like it.”
“Yes,” he said.
“The need to do what’s right, and maybe find a little adventure along the way.”
Poe shifted in his seat.
“You remind me of my brother,” Leia said softly. “Fly like him, too, apparently.”
Poe looked at her, surprised and flattered at once. The question pressed him, begged to be asked, but before he could find the courage to voice it, she went on.
“Have you heard of the Resistance, Poe?”
“Rumors, mostly.”
“Such as?”
“Such as there’s a splinter of the Republic military that…that feels the Republic isn’t taking certain threats as seriously as they maybe ought to be taking them. Specifically the threat posed by the First Order.”
“That’s a very diplomatic way to put it, but not an entirely inaccurate one.” General Leia Organa exhaled and settled back in her chair, looking him over again. The smile returned, slighter, perhaps sadder. “You’ve made some people very angry, you know that, Poe? Not letting matters drop when you were told to, disobeying direct orders. Technically, one could argue that you stole a Republic X-wing for personal use.”
“I’m a Republic officer, General. I swore an oath to protect the Republic, to-”
She held up a hand. “No, you misunderstand. I like it. It was rash of you, as I said, it was foolish. But we could use some rash these days, and foolish and passionate are often confused, and passion is something we desperately need.”
Poe blinked.
“I can whitewash your little trip out to OR-Kappa-2722 for you. I can sweep it under the rug if you like. You can go back to leading Rapier Squadron and having your hands tied by Command, by Major Deso, by politicians who don’t recognize what’s happening right before their eyes. I can make it all go away, Poe.”
She leaned forward.
“Or you can join the Resistance and help us stop the First Order before it’s too late.”
“Where do I sign up?” Poe asked.