Words: 3, 349
Notes: This was in response to a fic prompt over on the TFA meme, which went as follows – “Imagine the Resistance rescues a bunch of kids intended for stormtrooper training. While the kids are recuperating, they’re obviously scared and worried, so Finn, sweet cinnamon roll that he is, comes to visit them and cheer them up by telling them about some of his adventures and about how great the galaxy really is. And Poe is watching all this and just. can’t. handle. the sweetness.
Bonus if there’s a smidge of angst, since the the sight of these kids probably brings back memories of Finn’s early childhood, and he’s trying to suppress them, but it all comes out later, when he’s in bed with Poe.”
This was very much my jam, and I don’t write nearly enough of Finn, so I thought I would give it a shot.
Four children, dressed in black, have arranged themselves side-by-side against the containment cell’s far wall, their hair shaved down clean to the scalp and their hands held clasped behind their backs. Nobody has told them to stand this way.
Poe’s mouth falls open – in his defense, it’s a pretty damn eerie display – but Finn steps lightly around him without so much as a blink.
“At ease,” he says, raising a flattened hand in greeting. “May I speak with your junior squad commander, please?”
The children are, by Poe’s cursory estimation, between the ages of fourteen and seven. They all wear plated metal bracelets on their left wrists and ankles, imprinted with their blood type and body mass – more consistent than weight, which will of course vary from planet to planet – along with their division and individual serial numbers. None of them move or make a sound.
Finn tries again. A pained expression flits across his face.
“I order that junior commander of this squad step forward immediately.”
A broad and tawny-skinned girl, her jaw like a wedge, steps out of line. Her hands are gathered into sharp, anticipatory fists.
“AH-8765 reporting, sir!” Her voice is bellowing-hoarse, but Poe realizes that his initial guess was slightly off-mark. She is the oldest and largest of these children, certainly, a soft face atop shoulders already hardened by rigorous training, but she can’t be much more than twelve. “I am requesting an audience with FN-2187!”
“That’s me,” Finn tells her. He walks to stand directly in front of her, hands out and lowered at his sides as though to show her they are empty. “I’d prefer it if you called me ‘Finn,’ though. That’s my new name. What would you like to know?”
“If the – ” the girl’s lower lip trembles, but then she sniffs and juts her chin forward “– if the Resistance wants to submit us for disciplinary action, sir, tell them they only need to take me. I told them we should run away, like you did. It was m-m-my idea.”
Finn crouches until they are at about eye level with each other. Very slowly, perhaps so that the girl will not flinch, he lowers his hands onto her shoulders, although she flinches anyway.
Poe tries to keep perfectly still, and something cinches like a drawstring around his heart.
“You’ve been a very good leader, AH-8765. I’m here to promise you that you’ll all be safe, now. Nobody’s going to hurt you – do you think you can trust me?”
Finn looks into the girl’s staring eyes, for a measured beat, and then she nods. One of the younger children begins to sniffle as well.
“Okay.“ Finn gets to his feet again. “Is there anything else you guys want to ask?”
“Yes, sir!” shouts a skinny boy, who is missing his two front teeth. “AH-8768 speaking, sir – when do we all get our own names?”’
