A/N: Welcome :) This was originally a one-shot but turned into something more. I like to believe Poe and Ben knew each other at some point during their youth.

Poe Dameron was unprepared. An unfamiliar sensation, certainly, but the pilot was nothing if not resourceful.

It happened after Crait. Alone in his quarters on the Falcon, after a particularly heated briefing left him exhausted and slumped over a cup of caf. Poe Dameron, hero of the Resistance.

A hand reached for his forearm and he drew to a stop. In a cramped passageway, Poe met the gaze belonging to both mentor and mother. Kind eyes, but no less scrutinising. Leia possessed the uncanny ability to stare into rather than at or through. Poe had been on the receiving end more times than he could count. A vague acknowledgement that he didn't want her to look at him any other way - would feel betrayed if she did - settled itself in the recesses of his mind. The General caught him in the midst of storming off to his quarters after the argument. They were all on tenterhooks, she reasoned, nerves were frazzled, minds were foggy. To be expected after a miraculous escape from a battle they'd no hope in winning. A devastating annihilation if not for Luke. A dead end if not for -

"Rey - of all people! This obsession with Ren has to end." Poe's jaw locked as he realised the weight of his words. Leia, for her part, maintained her usual composure. She withdrew her hand. Poe focused ahead, ignoring the leftover sensation of her touch. He apologised.

"I expected her to agree."

Leia smiled. "Your first mistake."

Poe ran a hand through his hair. Rey, who he became acquainted with moments after their escape, condemned his observations about Kylo Ren. Logical observations; ones that made sense from a rational perspective; observations that would ensure the survival of the Resistance. Kylo Ren needed to die, though he would never say this aloud. There was no hope for him, no light left in that vessel of darkness that threatened to destroy everything Poe had built. And cared for. The mother of the man he wished dead; the woman who trusted him implicitly. Leia knew the truth. Her son was gone.

Rey disagreed. Worse still, she made her opinion known in front of the others. Tempers flared, voices were raised. For every move, she had a counter attack. For every arrogant swipe, she returned a disarming riposte. Along with Leia, the two of them were the sole survivors of the briefing. Even Finn eventually resigned from his role as diplomat, though not before angling his body toward Rey in a way that caused Poe to momentarily doubt the man's integrity. Finn placed a hand on his shoulder in support as he left.

Poe wondered if the girl overheard them talking in the corridor. He struggled to convince himself that he didn't care. She remained in the meeting room, alone. Six hours earlier they'd been trading stories about their experiences on Jakku. Three hours later and Rey was laughing uncontrollably as BB-8 let slip an awkward encounter between his master and a lusty bantha. And now, here. Remnants of a vicious argument sticking to both participants like thorns piercing skin. Poe looked at Leia. What exactly was she seeing? A man unsettled and angry. The normal hothead she'd grown accustomed to. And grown to love. Poe fingered the cuff of his jacket. Frustration did nothing to quell the rising desire. Rey argued with him. Threw his vitriol back in his face. There was a fire in her that Poe found himself longing to fuel. He hoped Leia didn't sense this conflict. A foolish hope.

"I need you to lead, Poe," Leia reiterated. Softly, but with an edge that rendered her most trusted operative a scolded child. "That means considering all sides of the story."

Meaning your opinion is not the only one that counts.

Poe lowered his gaze as Leia continued, "You needn't act on every opinion. Not only is this impossible but highly dangerous. Consideration, Poe. Consideration shows appreciation even if you disagree. It shows an openness to alternatives, builds trust among allies." She touched his chin lightly. When he refused to look up she tightened her grip.

Poe was barely able to push the words through his teeth.

"Gives people hope."

Leia made to leave then hesitated.

"The two of you are more similar than you realise."

Poe stared into his cup. The taste was bitter and on the verge of making him retch. A discomfort, he knew, that stemmed from something deeper than the dregs of watery caf trickling down his throat. He should apologise; came close to when he backtracked to the sealed door of the meeting room but decided otherwise on hearing her scolding herself. The look in her eyes as they argued. The intensity. That peculiar mixture of passion and innocence that seared through him, leaving him reeling, blistered from the force.

The Force. Something he barely understood on an abstract level, never mind as something tangible. Poe was a man of the physical world. Receive the mission, prep the X-wing, blow something up. A man with his finger on the figurative pulse in terms of galactic politics. A man with his finger on the literal trigger when it came to battle. A necessary balance that kept him grounded. Too much talk of the abstract made him itch, saw him restless and scattered. An ability to harness the Force made one immeasurably powerful. He knew the stories and saw it with his own eyes back on Crait. He smiled inwardly. To view Rey's inner-strength as something wholly dependent on her abilities with the Force would be doing her a great disservice.

If there was an apology to be made it had to wait.

Poe scrambled to his feet and unhitched his blaster. Nothing but a burning hole in the metallic cupboard left as evidence of the shot. He stumbled back against the door and focused on his surroundings. Something to touch, something to hear. The latter proved difficult. Flustered, enraged, confused beyond belief, it took several painstaking moments to fully comprehend the silence. A bubble surrounding them; silence so pure and sharp it was an assault on the senses. Everything felt foreign, as if he'd stepped into an alien skin, a stranger's mind.

The figure before him. Standing in his quarters. Crisp and clear. Untouchable, Poe noted, glancing at the cupboard, surprised he was even able to conjure a rational thought. He wasn't one for cliché but the silence was deafening. Kylo Ren, unmasked and unreadable. An apparition? Poe couldn't care less. The sensation of clarity in the midst of chaos crept up his spine. Years of training and self-discipline. He seized it with the desperation of a man fearing the loss of his faculties. When faced with the unfamiliar one must hold onto the familiar. And Poe was nothing if not resourceful.

"So, who talks first?"

Ren remained unfazed and appeared to take in his surroundings. Poe frowned. He couldn't see anything else except Ren, who turned on him, eyes dark.

"Interesting. And most unexpected."

"Isn't it?" Poe bit back, frustration overpowering his self-control.

"You understand me," said Ren, softly. "Without all the apparatus."

Poe's jaw set, a solitary nerve causing his cheek to twitch. He felt self-conscious under Kylo's probing stare and despised him all the more for it.

"What the fuck's going on?"

If not for the silence, he'd have missed it. That strange sound emanating from the base of Ren's throat. A noise akin to a chuckle but devoid of humour. It lodged itself at the root of Poe's spine and he stiffened. The primal urge to give in to his fight or flight threatened to overwhelm him. As did the knowledge that neither option mattered.

Ren inclined his head. "Perhaps I should talk first."

Whatever was happening, was happening. Poe accepted this with a determination that constantly hurled him into the crossfire only to emerge the other side, unharmed. Confidence, plain and simple. In himself. In his abilities. He waited for Ren to disagree. Blind arrogance, he'd say, and Poe would remind the newly-appointed "Supreme Leader" of his own shortcomings.

Nothing. No mental violation like that which occurred during the interrogation. Either Ren was unable to see into his mind or Poe somehow managed to keep him out. He considered the latter. The amount of confidence required to believe he was capable of that was a bit of stretch.

"So," said Poe, lounging into his seat. "Enjoying defeat?"

"You've always enjoyed playing the hero," replied Ren and Poe dismissed the comment with a casual wave.

Neither of them chose to follow that path. A wordless agreement not to pursue it occurred back on Jakku. The destination was nothing but a dark place of volatile memory shared between two volatile men; played out between two boys with Rebels for parents; separated in their youth for good.

"Do you honestly think that meagre handful of stragglers you call the Resistance stands a chance?"

Poe feigned confusion. "If by stragglers you mean the woman who outsmarted you several times at your own game then, yes, we stand a chance."

"Not to mention yourself, of course," conceded Ren, any trace of sincerity replaced with contempt. Whether Poe referred to Rey or his mother, he didn't care to decipher. "The best pilot in the Resistance."

Poe raised his hands in mocking surrender. "You said it, pal, not me."

A silence settled between them. Tense and potentially explosive but not uncomfortable. Poe decided not to pursue Ren's shift in demeanor when discussing Rey. Years of the Dark Side but a single mention of the woman saw the inner-turmoil splash across his face seemingly without restraint. Poe squashed the familiar stab of conscience. It manifested as a sudden tightening of the chest. Again, he wasn't one for cliché.

When it came to Kylo Ren, Poe's conscience was nothing but a stream of bile that either needed suppressing or ejecting. A useless, withered old thing that should have dried up years ago. He lifted his gaze. They were strangers. They were enemies. The way it was meant to be. The way it must be.

"Where is she?"

Poe raised his eyebrows. "Who?"

"You know who."

Out of nowhere, the pang of possessiveness. Poe steadied himself. "What's it to you?"

"You left her in the meeting room."

Poe opened his mouth then shut it. This time, the confusion was genuine.

"Get out of my head!"

Ren pressed his lips into a thin line. "I'm not in it."

Poe jumped up and levelled him with an accusing stare. "You're a poor liar. And that's coming from me."

To the surprise of both men, Ren recalled their interrogation and offered, "That you're unable to lie does not imply a weakness of mind."

"Fuck you," Poe hissed. "Forgive me if a compliment from a murderous traitor doesn't fill me with gratitude. As for Rey, she made her allegiance to the Resistance clear and you—"

He paused. A heavy frown settled on his face. Then, the revelation.

"What's happening now," Poe drawled, "happened earlier. In the meeting room. I heard her talking." He shot Ren a questioning look. "You and Rey."

Ren measured the man before him. It wasn't a question of sharing the secret but choosing how much to divulge. So far, Poe seemed uninterested in the technicalities behind their meeting of minds. Ren, for his part, was unable to explain it himself. And unwilling. Poe Dameron armed with knowledge of the Force was a new breed of enemy Ren preferred not to birth into existence. The pilot was a worthy adversary with his current skills alone. Tapping into certain sensitivities was not…ideal.

But avoiding the situation was futile. Poe was quick to catch on. Lightening reflexes of both body and mind honed through years of daredevil strategy and suicide missions.

They stared at one another. A slow smile spread across Poe's face.

"She's shut you out."

It wasn't a question. Ren knew it to be true. But this man's brazen confidence confirmed it. This pilot who knew nothing of the ways of the Force. Ren fought to control his anger. This piece of lowly scum who somehow supplanted Rey and unintentionally co-created a force bond with his nemesis. How? The two had argued—this, Kylo gleaned from what was to be his last conversation with Rey. It was heated, intense. Palpable. Some kind of energy transference, perhaps? And when Ren reached out to Rey in the hope she might answer, he instead connected with…

Poe chuckled at the look on Ren's face. Like dancers on a stage, a spectrum of emotions flickered across his features, battling for the spotlight. That this connection between them seemed to affect Ren on a deeper level left Poe feeling strangely detached and satisfied. He'd scant knowledge of the Force but wasn't surprised that Ren was able to bridge their minds together. Not much surprised him anymore.

He nipped the niggling realization in the bud. It was vague but urgent, lingering at the dusty corners of his mind. Poe cut it clean. Its depth, its profoundness, its potential to completely change his life in ways he could never understand. Didn't want to understand. He was a pilot. He blew stuff up.

Poe Dameron was a man of the physical world.

When he looked up, Kylo had vanished. The dull drone of the Falcon's engine hummed through the room.

Another silent agreement.

A coping mechanism shared by two men with enough similarities to blur what both wanted to be a sharp line dividing them for good.

Thanks for reading. This is my first attempt at Star Wars fanfic. I'd love to hear your thoughts x