A/N: Hi, guys. I am so, so sorry for being away so long. Here's a good depressing chapter to start off the year (hah). I just want to thank my most faithful readers and viewers, the people who keep me motivated to finish this story despite what's happening in my life. Shani8, Charmfeather, Rapier Thirteen, and draccmalfoy in particular are wonderful! Regardless of my horrendous updating times, please rest assured that this story is extremely important to me (which is partially why it takes so long-I obsess over every chapter) and I will never abandon it and WILL finish. I know how it's going to end already and everything in between. We just have to get there. Anyway, I'll shut up now :) Happy reading, my friends!

Of course, Rey thought bitterly, scowling down at the russet-colored stain on her usually white apron. Of all the days . . .

She shook her head with a sigh. It was a truly inconvenient time to have a stubborn bloodstain on her uniform. That day Phasma would be giving all of their stations monthly inspection. Rey was a very capable and dedicated nurse, but she was known to have her head in the clouds and sometimes she had . . . accidents.

But there wasn't even an exciting story behind this particular, offending stain. As usual, there hadn't really been any patients to speak of in the clinic. Rey and Nat were perfecting their sutures, practicing on fruit. It was a trick Nat said she'd learned from a friend. But Rey was having trouble. She had a feeling that real skin would be a bit more pliant than the peel of an orange. Her frustration led her to jab the suture needle with more force than was necessary, and at an odd angle. The needle had glanced off the side of the orange and slipped into the fleshy skin between her thumb and pointer finger. Rey had cried out in surprise, ripping the needle carelessly from her hand and wiping at the wound with the hem of her apron, dampening it with blood. Stupid.

Now it wouldn't pass inspection, Phasma would call her sloppy (again), and Jess would smile smugly at her own immaculate station. After scrubbing at the stain with a dish towel in vain, Rey threw her hands up in resignation and decided to give it up. Nat and Jess had already headed off to work, and adding insult to injury, Rey realized that she was late.

"Damnit!" she hissed, throwing the towel in the sink and grabbing her bag hastily from the kitchen table. BB barked in alarm as Rey hurried about the cottage like a bull in a china cabinet. "Sorry, BB," she called over her shoulder and she burst out the front door, her dress and apron billowing in the breeze that came off the beach. She locked the door behind her and then made her way down the front steps as quickly as her kitten heels would carry her.

When she reached the sidewalk Rey looked up at the road and then stopped in her tracks, her breath seizing up in her lungs. Her hands dropped immediately to her sides and her bag slipped slowly from her shoulder, hitting the sidewalk with a dull thud.

"No," she whispered to herself, tears filling her eyes to the brim.

There was an Air Force truck parked on the street in front of her house. Finn sat listlessly in the driver's seat; Hux and Kylo stood at the end of her drive, their hats in their hands. All three of them were in full Class A uniforms, the dark navy color a harsh contrast against the baby pink of the morning sky over Pearl Harbor behind them.

Kylo's unruly black hair was combed neatly and gelled into place for once, the polish on his shoes catching the sunlight and throwing a reflection her way in a blinding sheen. It was disorienting, casting the whole scene in a surreal, hazy light. Surely, this was a nightmare.

If they're here, like that, it means . . .

She didn't finish the thought, shaking her head furiously to drive out the very idea of it. "No," she said again, louder this time, staggering a few steps. The low fence separating their yard from the sidewalk was near, and Rey meant to grab it for support. After a haphazard step forward her right heel caught in a crack in the sidewalk and she tipped forward, the ground rushing up to meet her.

But Kylo lurched toward her then, dropping to one knee to catch her. Rey collapsed against him, unable to move, to breathe, to think.

"H-he can't be . . . " she choked out desperately, gasping for breath, grabbing fistfuls of Kylo's jacket and hiding her face against his shoulder. "Not now. Please."

"I'm sorry, Rey," he replied, his voice almost inaudible. "I'm so sorry."

Kylo's own voice shook with emotion and the sound of it, of Poe's friend feeling the same grief, made it all too immediate, too real, and Rey dissolved into frenzied sobs muffled only by the fabric of Kylo's uniform against her face.

Hux, ever the stoic, stooped to lay a hand awkwardly on Kylo's other shoulder, clearly unsure how to comfort them both. For his part, he was blinking tears from his eyes. He turned his head to check on Finn, who still stared over the steering wheel of the truck in motionless shock.

Kylo's arms were snug around Rey and at first it created a comforting barrier between her and the world but after a moment the closeness was stifling and she pushed away from him feebly, in need of air.

He released her by degrees and helped her steadily to her feet. Rey rose with him slowly, taking shuddering breaths and trying to slow her frantic sobs of a few moments before.

The sound of heels on the pavement drew her attention and she looked up to see Jess and Nat tearing down the lane in alarm, looks of horror etched into their faces. Apparently the news had broken at the clinic as well. Behind her, BB cried pitifully and scratched insistently at the screen door.

Another gust of wind blew in off the water, loosening some of Rey's hair from the braid she'd thrown together that morning. She shivered, suddenly feeling very small and utterly alone.

Kylo frowned down at her and reached out, tucking the hair back behind her ear. She looked up at his face and saw her own pain reflected back in the black depths of his eyes.

I'll never look into Poe's eyes again, she thought, and felt fresh tears well up, a painful lump rising in her throat.

It just didn't seem real. She'd woken up in a good mood, thinking happily that she might write Poe a letter, might try and draw him a picture of BB he could make fun of. She imagined him laughing at it as he sat in a tent on the other side of the world. His laugh was the dearest sound in all the world, and no one would ever hear it again. She'd never see how his smile reached all the way up to form creases at his eyes. He'd never offer her that beat up leather jacket when she was cold. Never pull her in for a hug or kiss her on the neck from behind to surprise her.

How silly it seemed to her then, on the worst day of her life, that earlier that morning she'd been upset about a stain on her apron.

"Poe's funeral. God, I still can't believe it. It's too awful." Natalie snatched the handkerchief from Finn's front jacket pocket and dabbed at her eyes, blinking furiously to dispel the tears. "I knew I shouldn't have worn mascara today," she scolded herself absently.

Finn yanked the handkerchief back from her forcefully then, his features contorted in a grimace of disgust. "Really? You're worried about mascara right now?"

"I-I didn't mean-I'm sorry Finn, honest," she pleaded, grabbing at his arm. He jerked away obstinately.

"Come on, Finn," Hux said in a low voice. "Nat's not the problem here. We all miss him." He offered a reassuring smile to Nat who nodded tearfully in response before excusing herself to the bathroom.

"Thank you for doing that," Jess said quietly. Ben caught her giving Hux's hand a grateful squeeze before she moved over to Rey, patting her on the back consolingly.

Rey stood at Ben's right, fragile as glass, staring at the ground with a vacant expression in her bloodshot eyes. He hadn't seen her for days. He'd tried to go and visit after the news of Poe's death, but she'd been locked up in her room, refusing to come out, refusing even to say that she wasn't coming. Jess and Nat had said that they couldn't even hear her crying. They were worried something had happened to her until she had opened the door a crack to let BB out into the hall to be fed and watered.

To get her to the funeral, the girls claimed they'd had to summon Phasma to Rey's doorway to coax her out and dress her for the occasion.

She looked the part of a grieving girlfriend well enough, her slender silhouette accented by a form-fitting black dress and matching high-heels. On her head she wore a small black hat that had a net attached at the front. Rey had it pulled down to obscure her face. The net-veil was a good choice, really—Ben had been unable to suppress a gasp of alarm when she'd met his eyes, her own as red as blood.

"It's good to see you Rey," Finn offered lamely, smiling slightly when she glanced his way.

She said nothing, turning back to face forward again. After a moment she shrugged Jess away and walked to the front of the church, taking her seat.

"What was that?" Ben asked Finn coldly. "'It's good to see you?' Nothing about today is good. Don't try to make small talk. Not here."

"Oh, shove it, Kylo," Finn fired back. "We know you were his best friend but stop acting like you have some monopoly on grief. We all loved Poe. I'm just trying to make Rey feel a little better. Doing more than you're doing standing there with that look on your face."

Ben opened his mouth to protest but thought the better of it, instead heading to the altar where he would soon prepare to deliver Poe's eulogy. Truly he didn't feel up to the task, but when his Uncle Luke had asked him he'd been unable to refuse, no matter how furious he'd been that Luke was the one to send Poe away in the first place.

As he trudged up the center aisle between the pews in the church, a familiar face swam into his peripheral vision and he stopped short in surprise.

"Mom?" he asked.

Leia nodded solemnly and rose from the pew she was seated in to greet him. She looked tired, strained. Her brown hair was peppered with silver and her black dress hung off of her haggard body. Ben suddenly felt guilty for avoiding contact with his parents for so long. He didn't want to add to her worries.

"Ben," she said tenderly, reaching out to hug him. But he bristled and stepped back.

"I asked you not to call me that," he ground out through his teeth.

"Honey," she pleaded, "don't be that way. Not today."

Ben felt his face soften at his mother's kindness. He took a step back toward her when another, taller figure materialized behind her.

"Son," Han said gruffly. He had shaved for the funeral and was dressed in his old, faded military uniform. Ben was disgusted at the sight. After all that his father had done to keep him out of the Air Force, all he had said about the folly of military life, here he stood still wearing the signs of his service like a badge of honor.

Phony. Coward, Ben thought viciously. There had been whispers. Whispers that when Han had been in the Great War with Poe's father, that there was a reason he had come home sooner. That his injury had not been sustained in battle but was self-inflicted, done so that he could be discharged. Long ago, Ben had asked him about these rumors. That was the first and only time his father had hit him. Ben never forgave him, and instinctively believed every nasty thing he'd ever heard about his father, about "Han Solo the scoundrel."

In the dim quiet of the church, Ben nodded politely at his father before giving him mother a quick hug. Then he brushed past them both and ascended the steps that brought him up behind the podium.

Slowly, the mourners took their seats. The lights in the church focused in on Ben and he felt suddenly very anxious. But then he looked out into the congregation and saw Rey, seated in a place of honor in the front row next to Kes Dameron, Poe's father.

His heart broke at the sight of his friend's dad. How many days had he spent, playing on the floor of Poe's living room while Kes and Poe's mother, Shara, looked on lovingly? Losing Shara had been a blow for Poe and his father. Ben couldn't imagine what the older man was facing now. Losing someone like Poe was almost too much to bear. He had so much life and love in him. To be snuffed out now . . . it just didn't make sense.

To the right of Kes, Rey wasn't crying. She sat up straight with her hands folded neatly in her lap. But she was staring up at Ben with an intensity that lent him strength. If she, Poe's lover could keep her composure at a time like this, so could he.

Clearing his throat, Ben removed his speech from his pocket and set it on the platform before him. He didn't need it—he'd memorized the speech backwards and forwards. But he had brought it just in case.

"Lieutenant Poe Dameron was my best friend," he began simply. "But he would likely have treated any of you with just as much consideration as he did me. He was just kind like that. Poe cared about people; he was friends with everybody. It was impossible not to love Poe almost as soon as you met him."

So far, so good, he thought hopefully. His voice hadn't failed him yet.

"When other people were feeling bad about something, we all knew that we could rely on Poe to lift their spirits no matter who it was or what was wrong with them. I wish I had him around to comfort me right now." His voice quavered dangerously at that, at the realization that the only person who ever really got through to him was the one person he couldn't talk to out. Never again. Pull it together, he told himself fiercely.

"But Poe wasn't just a nice guy. There are lots of nice guys. The thing about Poe is that he had all the ingredients of a jerk. He was incredibly talented, athletic, confident, and all the girls loved him. I was always eclipsed by him, by whole life. He knew it, too. Sure, he was a little cocky. By all accounts I could have hated the guy. I didn't, though. Poe wasn't someone you hate. He was . . . too good. Genuinely good. You don't meet many people like that.

"I'm certainly not one. I haven't always been the easiest person to be around. But Poe was always there for me, even when I was being the worst pain. He was the best friend anyone could ever ask for.

"And he loved his family, too. His eyes used to light up all excited when he would talk about how cool his dad is, how good of a pilot he is and how fast of a runner. He was so proud of his parents. I know," Ben said in a choked voice, "that they're proud of him, too." Kes Dameron sobbed quietly from the front row, and Ben struggled to ignore it with everything he had.

"Yeah," he continued slowly, "Poe could make anyone love him almost instantly, but he didn't need the love and admiration of a bunch of people. He had a few close friends, and that was enough for him. And while he could get any girl he wanted, he knew the best girl when he found her. I think we're all glad Poe met Rey. What they had warmed everyone around them because it was so strong."

Ben changed a glance down at Rey, who was still gazing up at him, stock still. Tears ran down her face in dark rivulets that he could see through the faint netting.

He shook his head slightly, pressing on. "The people in Poe's life are what drove him to be such a dedicated and skilled pilot. It meant everything to him to protect others, and he was a great asset to our country. I know he saved a lot of lives with his bravery and service. I've never seen a flyer like Poe before. My uncle used to joke that to fly that well, Poe had to have the devil in him. But if anything Poe was an angel. I know that wherever he is, he doesn't regret a thing. He gave his life doing what he loved to do, what he seemed born to do. But it isn't fair that he was taken from us so soon. I miss him every day. All the time."

Ben found it almost impossible to finish. The soft weeping of several in the congregation was only adding to the swelling hole of his own grief. To his left was the empty coffin that they would bury as a formality, that they would cover in an American flag in honor of Poe's sacrifice. Yes, his best friend had been sacrificed to this senseless war.

He thought unwillingly of that day when they were kids, he and Poe playing in his dad's old biplane. Poe's smile was so bright, his laugh so carefree. Even then, when they were just kids, he'd wanted nothing more than to fly.

Well, Poe, you got your wish. But at what cost?

If Ben allowed himself to think about it too long, he would crumble in front of them all. So with one final, steadying breath, he finished his eulogy.

"We are all better for knowing him. Rest in peace, my friend."

Afterward, Ben found Rey sitting on a bench alone in the garden beside the church. She was looking down at a very crinkled and stained piece of paper and sniffling loudly.

One of Poe's letters, he thought sadly.

Looking up at the sound of his approach, Rey hurriedly stashed the paper away in her handbag. She had removed the hat from earlier and he could see her face more clearly now. She looked pale, sallow, broken. He was sorry for her.

It was hard enough losing Poe, the hardest thing he'd ever gone through. Seeing Rey so defeated by his loss was making Ben feel worse, worse than he'd thought he could feel. He'd come to admire the strength and light he saw in Rey through the course of their friendship. Being around her made him feel connected to Poe, made him feel less alone. She seemed to understand him better than the others in the group. He trusted her. He cared for her. So seeing her now, a mess, heartbroken—it hurt him, too.

"Can I sit here?" he asked, gesturing to the bench beside her.

Rey nodded silently, refusing to meet his gaze.

He took a seat on the bench, the hard surface oddly cold for the climate. It seemed that nothing, even the glowing paradise of the island, could thaw the chill that Poe's death had settled on them all. Though she tried to conceal it, Ben could hear Rey sobbing quietly beside him. He wanted to comfort her somehow, but he didn't know what to say.

"Thank you," she blurted suddenly, her voice thick.

"Um, for what?"

"For the things you said about Poe in there. He would have liked to hear that. It would have . . . would have meant a lot to him."

"I hope I honored him," Ben replied in a whisper.

Rey scooted closer on the bench, looking up at him earnestly. "You did. I swear, you did," she insisted, her voice breaking on the last word.

She was crying again. She leaned her face against him like she had that day, when he'd broken the worst news of his life to the sweetest girl he'd ever met. Awkwardly, he shifted toward her, wrapping his other arm around her as she shook against him.

"Rey . . . " his voice trailed off uselessly. She made no response, though perhaps her sobs quieted a little.

"You know," he began, "Poe really loved you, Rey. I know that you two didn't get the time together you deserved. But he asked me to look after you if . . . if anything happened to him. And he did that because he loved you so much, more than you know. I just . . . just thought you'd want to know that."

Rey sat up, her eyes somehow even redder, her cheeks glistening in the early evening light. Oh, no, Kylo thought in a panic. Why did you say that stuff, idiot? You're just going to make her feel worse.

"I know," she replied in an impassioned voice. "He did love me. And you know what? I never got to tell him I love him, too. It's just like I told you at the beach that night. I . . . I'm such a fool. The only man I've ever loved, and he didn't even know it."

"He knew, Rey. I believe that." Ben expected her to start weeping again but she didn't. Her eyes were alight with something else—anger.

"It's just so unfair, you know? Why did this have to happen to him? He was too young. There was so much that he—that we—were going to do. And now it's just . . . it's all gone. Why did he have to go and volunteer like that?" Rey took a shaky breath, turning away from him to collect herself again.

But Ben wasn't looking at her. His mind was reeling with what she'd just said. Volunteered? VOLUNTEERED?!

"I'm sorry," he said abruptly, standing from the bench. "Did you just say Poe volunteered? That's not right. He had orders. From Skywalker. From my uncle."

Rey stood up too and met Ben's gaze, her expression apologetic. "No, Kylo. He wanted to go. He was always trying to 'make a difference.' You know him."

Ben stared at her, utterly flabbergasted. Poe had volunteered. Poe had chosen to go off to his death. To leave Rey, to leave him, to . . . die. And he'd lied about it.

He wasn't angry. That wasn't really the right word. He just felt strangely betrayed, and the gulf of loss in his heart only seemed to widen in the knowledge that his closest friend hadn't trusted him enough to tell him the truth.

Rey interrupted his thoughts when she stepped forward, taking his hand in hers in a gesture of consolation. It seemed absurd, her needing to console him. He appreciated it nonetheless. "He just wanted to protect you, Kylo. He didn't want you trying to follow him. Always looking after others. That was his way," she said, shaking her head. "I miss him so much already."

"So do I," Ben whispered miserably.

Rey sighed—a lonely, defeated sound. Instinctively, Ben wrapped her in his arms. Looking down at her, he could detect the sweet floral aroma of her hair. The warm hazel of her eyes found his, and even in this moment of acutest pain, she tried to smile at him. He returned her smile, hoping it looked more natural than it felt; because nothing felt natural then, nothing felt right standing near where they'd just buried his best friend.

After a few moments of companionable silence, Jess appeared and collected her friend. When they'd gone, Ben sat forlornly in the deserted garden, wondering how he'd manage without Poe in his life.

It was three months before he'd smile again.

Any thoughts on the story are always appreciated!