He Claimed Me in the Cockpit's Darkness

The air in the main hangar of the Ajan Kloss base was thick with the scent of ozone and hot metal, a smell Finn had come to associate with progress. He stood on a raised gantry, arms crossed over his chest, watching a squad of newly-commissioned R6-series astromechs attempt to recalibrate the port-side energy converters on a B-wing. Below him, the droids whirred and beeped in a chaotic chorus of productive confusion.

It was good work. Important work. He had a title, a role, a purpose that wasn't defined by running from something. He was building, not just fighting. And yet, a familiar restlessness coiled in his gut. The quiet moments of this fragile peace were often the loudest, filled with the echoes of a life he was still trying to outrun. In the war, the objective had always been clear: survive, win. Now, the objective was… to live. It was a far more complicated mission.

A presence at his side startled him from his thoughts, warm and solid and so impossibly familiar that he didn't even flinch.

"You're going to burn a hole through that deck plating if you keep staring at it like that."

Poe Dameron’s voice was a low, amused rumble next to his ear. He held out a steaming mug, and Finn’s fingers brushed against his as he took it. The contact was brief, barely there, but it sent a flicker of warmth up his arm that had nothing to do with the caf.

"Someone has to make sure they don't accidentally eject the hyperdrive," Finn countered, taking a sip. The brew was strong, just how he liked it. Poe always remembered.

Poe chuckled, a sound that seemed to vibrate right through him. Without preamble, he draped an arm over Finn’s shoulders, pulling him casually against his side. The weight of it was grounding, the heat of Poe’s body seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt. It was a gesture he’d performed a thousand times, on the bridge of a Star Destroyer, in the smoky aftermath of a battle, in the crowded cantinas of a dozen different worlds. It was as natural to them as breathing.

Finn found himself leaning into the contact, the tension in his shoulders easing for the first time all day. He let his head rest for a moment against Poe’s shoulder, a silent admission of the unease he couldn’t put into words. Poe didn't press, didn't ask what was wrong. He just stood there with him, his arm a solid, reassuring anchor, and watched the droids work below. The simple, uncomplicated comfort of his presence was a language all its own, one Finn understood perfectly. It was the only part of this new life that felt entirely real, entirely certain.

They were barely halfway through their caf when Finn's datapad chimed with an urgent summons. High-level briefing. Command Center. Now. Poe got the same message a second later. He tossed his empty mug onto a nearby crate with a clatter. "Guess the quiet part's over," he said, but there was a familiar spark in his eyes, the one that always appeared at the first hint of trouble.

They walked to the Command Center shoulder-to-shoulder, their strides matched. The easy closeness from the hangar bay lingered, a silent current between them. Inside, the circular room was already crowded with the core of the Resistance leadership. The air was heavy with grim anticipation. General Leia Organa stood before the central holotable, her expression severe. As Finn and Poe took their places near the edge of the assembly, her gaze swept over them, and the room fell silent.

"We have a problem," Leia began, her voice cutting through the quiet. "For the past three standard weeks, we've been losing supply convoys en route to the Corellian sector. Freighters carrying vital medical supplies, fuel, and reconstruction materials. They're not just disappearing; they're vanishing from our scopes without a single distress call."

Her fingers moved across the controls, and the holotable flickered to life. A map of the Outer Rim glowed in the blue light, a specific corridor of space highlighted in red. "The attacks are happening here," she said, pointing to a desolate stretch of space known as the Kaelen Expanse. "It's a navigational nightmare. A graveyard of ships. The perfect place to hide."

A new image appeared—a grainy, distorted silhouette of a starship, its edges blurred as if phasing in and out of reality. Finn felt a cold dread creep up his spine. He knew that design philosophy. It was Imperial, but twisted, more advanced. He felt Poe shift beside him, a subtle tensing of his muscles.

"Our long-range intelligence is fragmented," Leia continued, her eyes dark with worry. "But what we have points to a highly organized Imperial remnant. They call themselves 'The Unseen Hand.' They're using a next-generation cloaking technology, something that masks not just their visual profile but their energy signature as well. They can get within striking distance of our convoys completely undetected."

Poe leaned forward slightly, his body coiled like a spring. Finn could feel the shift in him, the pilot's mind already calculating flight paths and attack vectors.

"We can't send a fleet," Leia stated, anticipating the question. "We'd be sending them in blind. They'd be picked apart before they even knew they were under fire. This threat has to be cut off at the source. We need to find their base of operations, identify the scope of their fleet, and learn the capabilities of this new cloaking system." She looked around the table, her gaze landing on each person in turn. "This is not a combat mission. It is high-risk reconnaissance. We need a small team, fast and invisible. Two people, max. A scout ship with a low profile is our only option to get in and out without being detected."

The room was still, the weight of the task settling on them all. A ghost fleet in a haunted sector of space. It was a suicide run. And in the tense silence, Finn knew, with absolute certainty, whose name would be spoken first. He could feel Poe vibrating with the need to go, a restless energy that seemed to call out to the danger.

"I'll go," Poe's voice cut through the tense quiet, clear and steady. He took a step forward, away from Finn's side, and the absence of his warmth was immediate. He faced Leia, his posture radiating the easy confidence that had made him a legend in the Resistance. "Give me the fastest scout ship you've got. I can get in, get the intel, and get out before they even know I'm there."

A murmur went through the room, a mix of relief and concern. Leia’s expression didn't change. She held his gaze, assessing him. "This isn't a trench run, Poe. There's no squadron at your back."

"I know," Poe said. And then he turned, his dark eyes finding Finn's across the few feet of space that now separated them. The look he gave him was intense, unwavering, a silent command and a plea all at once. "But I'm not going alone." He looked back at Leia, but his next words were for the entire room, a declaration that left no room for argument. "I'm taking Finn."

The statement hung in the air. A few of the senior officers exchanged skeptical glances. Finn wasn't a pilot.

"His knowledge of First Order tactics is the only reason we survived the assault on the Steadfast," Poe pressed on, his voice ringing with absolute conviction. He gestured toward Finn. "He knows how they think, how they build their patrol routes, what their security protocols look like from the inside. That's not in any of our databanks. That's in his head. And when things go sideways—and they will—there is no one in this galaxy I trust more to have my back. His nerve is solid iron."

Every eye in the room turned to Finn. He felt the weight of their scrutiny, but more than that, he felt the profound, grounding force of Poe's faith. It wasn't just friendship; it was a professional, unequivocal statement of trust that silenced the last of Finn's own lingering doubts. This was his place. Right here. He took a deliberate step forward, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Poe again, a united front.

"He's right," Finn said, his voice steady. "The Unseen Hand might be a remnant, but they'll be using the same core security doctrines. Sub-level clearances, rotating encryption keys, blind spots in sensor sweeps designed for capital ships. A small scout ship could exploit those, but you'd have to know what to look for."

Leia looked between them, her gaze lingering on the way they stood together, perfectly in sync, two parts of a single, functional whole. She saw the pilot's unshakable confidence and the strategist's quiet resolve. She saw their history, their victories, the unspoken bond that made them exponentially more effective together than they ever were apart.

A long moment passed. Finally, she gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Alright," she conceded, her voice resonating with authority. "The mission is yours. The Starlight Runner is your ship. It's a modified Incom T-77. Low sensor profile, long-range capabilities. It's in Bay 7." She looked at them both, a final, stern warning in her eyes. "Don't be heroes. Get the data and get out. That is your only objective."

The briefing was over. The decision was made. As the leadership team dispersed, Poe turned to Finn, a small, triumphant smile playing on his lips. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. He just met Finn's eyes, and in that shared look, their fate was sealed. They were in this together, bound for the quiet darkness of a small ship and the vast, unknown dangers of the Kaelen Expanse.