Title: Lost
Fandom: Star Wars TFA
Rating: PG
Length: <1k
Content notes: Choose not to warn (nothing explicit but reference to canon events)
Author notes: Spoilers for the movie. Will likely be jossed because it takes place after (redacted) but before (redacted), but eh.
Summary: Finn isn't quite sure where he belongs.



Finn feels lost.

Not literally, of course. There are only so many places you can go in the rebel base, and all of them are full of people. He's been everywhere so many times that he doesn't even need them to tell him how to get places, even though if he asked they'd tell him.

But he doesn't have a place. Back where he was before -- he refuses to think of the First Order as ‘home’, even though it's really the only one he's known -- he may not have been anyone of status, just another faceless Stormtrooper, but he knew what he was doing at all times, and until Jakku, he did what he was told without question or hesitation.

And then Jakku happened, and instead of submitting for reconditioning like a proper soldier (the First Order is not gentle; he's heard the screams, sometimes amplified through the ship as a precautionary lesson to others, sometimes echoing in his dreams, and he doesn’t want his voice added to the chorus; plus, he might not have been sure who he was but damn it all he was *somebody* and he wasn't about to let them take that away again) he runs, and runs, and doesn't stop running until he hits a metaphorical brick wall.

Except he still doesn't know who he is, really, or what he's doing here. Technically what he's doing here is resting up from some really scary injuries, but that's not a life plan. And sure he had been able to help the Rebellion -- filthy traitors and honorless scum, the remnants of his Stormtrooper programming whispers, in a voice a lot like Kylo Ren’s -- but that was a one time thing. He has no more information to give, and he can't fly a damn thing, and--

beep boop beedle?

--and he can't even understand half the people here, including the droids. Fucking useless, he is, compared to everyone else.

boop BEEP, BB-8 insists, and headbutts Finn gently.

“I don't have a clue what you're saying,” he grumbles, “so you may as well go away.”

His tone is harsher than he means it to be, and BB-8 droops visibly and starts to wobble off. Finn feels a surge of guilt; it's not the droid’s fault. “Hey wait. I'm sorry, okay? I'm just …” Lost. Useless. Scared. Worried about Rey, off following the map to the probably apocryphal Last Jedi. Worried about Poe, the best damn pilot in the galaxy, but even the best pilot can't win against bad luck. Worried about the First Order tracking him down, tracking all of them down. Finn sighs. “I don't know what I'm even doing here.”

The little droid burbles quietly, and damn if it doesn't sound reassuring. Finn strokes its head absently. “The worst thing is,” he says after a while, “some of the people here seem to think I'm a hero. Because I got away. That's not heroism, BB. It was fear, and luck, and Poe Dameron.” The droid chirps, and Finn smiles. “Yeah, he's a big damn hero, far more than I'll ever be. You got a damn good master, you know,”

“Friend,” says a voice behind him, “not master.”

Finn flushes hot and doesn't turn around. BB-8 makes happy boops and swivels its head to look, but to Finn’s surprise the droid doesn't move from his side, just headbutts him.

“And you're his friend too,” Poe continues, and there's a smile in his voice. Then he turns serious again. “Finn, my friend, do you know what it takes to be a hero?”

“Not running away is probably a start,” Finn says with sour humor.

A warm hand rests on his shoulder. “Everybody runs,” Poe says. “The trick is running in the right direction.”

“Yeah, well, I don't even know which direction to run any more. As long as it's not back to the First Order -- but they're everywhere.”

“Not everywhere,” Poe corrects with easy confidence. “Not here. And not *here*.” He taps two fingers against Finn’s temple.

“What if they are?”

beep babeep warble beep-BEEP-boop, BB-8 says.

“Exactly,” Poe says.

Finn huffs in frustration; dammit, he's *got* to learn how to speak droid. “What did he say?”

“That if anything happens, we'll get you and bring you home. Because that's what friends do.”

“I don't have a home,” Finn objects. “And if the First Order gets their hands on me, there won't be anything left to save.”

BB-8 gives him a disapproving whistle.

“Doesn’t matter. We’ll do it anyway. Me and BB-8, and Rey when she gets back. And General Organa -- she likes you, you know.”

That makes Finn’s gut twist unpleasantly; his memories of the fight on the Starkiller are fragmented, but he remembers enough. “She shouldn't -- I wasn't able to save --” His throat closes up over the words.

“You saved the whole galaxy,” Poe corrects.

“That was other people that did that. I was just there for Rey.”

Poe smiles at him. “All that means is you weren't working alone. None of us were. Now: enough of this moping. Do you want to learn how to fly an X-Wing?”

“*Do* I.” Finn echoes, excitement mounting. “Uh, fair warning, I'll probably crash it or something.”

“That's what shields are for,” Poe teases. “Besides, you've got me as a teacher -- what could go wrong?”

“Lots,” Finn says, laughing. “Race you to the hangers, both of you.”

BB-8 wins, but it doesn't matter, because right now he's no longer lost.