This is based only on the films. I have no knowledge of the Expanded Universe. The only books I've read are a couple of the early Han Solo adventure novels, and Splinter of the Mind's Eye*. We were younger and more innocent then.

*(Poor Alan Dean Foster. It wasn't his fault.)

He couldn't sleep.

Poe lay back on the smooth slope of his X-wing's snout, arms folded behind his head. The healing scar on his arm ached, but he ignored it, looking up at the leaves moving slowly overhead in a breeze he couldn't feel. Occasionally a star twinkled through, like the wink of a friendly eye.

It was better out here, alone in the darkness, than in the stuffy warmth of their bunkroom, trying not to fidget and disturb the others. Rey woke screaming, sometimes, to stutter out disjointed fragments of horrific dreams; Finn wept in his sleep, calling to friends whose dead faces he saw behind the helmets of Stormtroopers. They needed what rest they could get.

Poe just…stayed awake, mostly.

We should be happy. And in a sense they were; relieved, mostly, to have the war done, the First Order crushed. The war won. The Sith gone; finally, completely gone. Rey was sure of it, with a serene certainty that was impossible to challenge.

But they had lost so much. Too much, Poe thought, though he acknowledged that given the alternative they would still have paid the price.

It wasn't win or lose. It was win or die. And not just people or even worlds; it would have been the death of freedom, of hope, of light in the darkness.

The leaves fluttered, and somewhere a night creature sang to itself, a monotonous chirp of three notes up, three notes down. He didn't worry about it. Any hostile life forms on this world had left the area months ago, when the Resistance had first set up its base.

Now the remaining fighters sat idle, mostly, though the number shrank day by day as people returned to their homes. It was strange; after so long spent fighting, Poe found himself directionless. Rey was full of plans for a new Jedi Academy, Finn cautiously eager to be her first apprentice, and Poe admitted – silently – to a little envy. Not just of their Force sensitivity, but of their sense of purpose.

"Maybe I should take Zorii up on it," he muttered to himself. "She's probably halfway to the colonies by now – "

"No."

Poe spasmed, nearly sliding off the ship, and grabbed for his blaster, but the form glowing gently in the dark just to one side – crosslegged in air – was not intimidated.

And why should it be, Poe thought bitterly, reholstering the weapon and pushing up to sit. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you." Kylo Ren's expression was grave, almost sad, and Poe swallowed a hint of bile.

"Well, you sure found me. What the hell do you want? Did Rey send you?" He knew she talked to Ren from time to time – it drove Finn crazy – but Poe didn't even want to think about her chatting with a murdering would-be Sith, redeemed or not.

"No. She doesn't know I'm here." Ren's hands dangled off his knees and his hair was in his eyes, making him a vaguely ungainly figure in almost ridiculous contrast to the Force glow around him. "You shouldn't go."

Anger rose up roaring. "Who are you to tell me anything, you murderous scum? You killed the General! You killed your own father!" It was white heat in his chest - memories of stark fear in Rey's eyes, friends dying all around him, villages slaughtered wholesale, planets blasted to dust. His fist beat the metal beneath him and Poe scarcely noticed. "How dare you come back!"

"I'm sorry."

It was like missing a lightspeed jump, the same sense of slamming into a wall. Poe gaped at Ren. "What?"

Ren regarded him steadily. "I'm sorry for what I've done. All of it."

Poe opened his mouth, then closed it, fury tangling with confusion. "And…and what, you think, you think that makes it all better?"

"No." Ren shook his hair out of his face. "I can't fix the harm I've done."

"Then why are you even here?" Poe gestured at him. "Aren't you supposed to… move on or something?"

"I can't." Ren arched a brow, wry. "I know Rey explained the Dyad to you. We're bound together by the Force."

"So you're going to haunt her for the rest of her life. Great." Poe gave a bitter snort. "That's just great."

Ren tilted his head, and Poe refused, refused to believe that the ghost sympathized, but then the blue-lit eyes narrowed. "You're bleeding."

Poe blinked, and only then felt the hot trickle down his arm. Muttering under his breath, he dug a rag out of his pocket and managed to wrap the old wound, though he had to use his teeth to tie the bandage.

Unfortunately, Ren was still there when he was finished. "What do you want?" Poe demanded.

Force spirits didn't need to breathe, but Poe still got the impression that Ren had pulled in air. "To apologize. To you."

Poe found his mouth hanging open again. "I ordered your capture, and I tortured you. Invaded your mind." Ren bit his lip, then continued. "It was wrong, and I'm sorry."

Under the surprise, Poe's immediate impulse was to throw the words back at that glowing figure, but he held himself still and let the revulsion subside. "You think I can forgive you just like that?" He snapped his fingers.

"I'm not asking for forgiveness." Ren's voice was quiet. "You deserve an apology. That's all."

Once again, Poe didn't know what to say.

"You should stay. Rey needs you. They both do." Ren's small smile was enough to make Poe blink again. "Everyone needs time to heal. Even you, General Dameron."

The figure faded, taking the light with him. After a moment, Poe rubbed his eyes, afterimages dancing against his lids.

What…was…that?

He felt like he'd been grazed by a stun bolt. Of all the things he might have expected from Kylo Ren, repentance had never been on the list.

He reached for his anger, but it had collapsed like a pricked bladder, and all he felt was tired. Too tired to walk back to the bunkhouse.

Poe forced himself to climb up to the X-wing's cockpit and clamber inside, settling down in the seat and propping his head awkwardly on one of the side panels. For once, sleep was chasing him, and he meant to be caught.

His last coherent thought was I still don't like him.