I'll Come Back for You

They broke the planet's atmosphere and Poe felt the heat immediately; he wasn't sure, though, if it was coming from the sun, the fire eating up the back of the First Order starfighter, or the incredible rate at which they were speeding toward the ground.

"Eject, buddy!" He screamed, knowing it was useless as he could hardly hear himself over the roaring disaster that was once a TIE fighter.

Finn couldn't hear him.

Poe hit the button and was instantly catapulted from the burning black mess. He'd played out scenarios like this in his training under the New Republic and even got himself into a couple of jams every now and then, but the feeling he had now was completely foreign.

In Poe’s mind, he really screwed everything up. He'd let the Resistance down, he'd let General Organa down, but most of all, he'd let her down. He could've pulled off the greatest escape in history just now to die in a crash.

He always thought that whole "life flashing before your eyes thing" was bull, but as his chute opened up miles above the harsh Jakku surface, it suddenly made sense.

---

He'd been back on base for two days and he was already feeling restless. It was a constant conflict for him. Poe loved what he was doing, more than anything, but while he was long periods of time, he felt a longing to come back home; then when he got back, the bases never really felt like the home he wanted so he would ask for another assignment almost immediately. It was a vicious cycle—one that the 26-year-old knew, deep down, would wear him out well before he was ready to retire.
Another sleepless night, he thought, sighing.
So he got up, dressed in some standard issue sweats, and headed over to the training center.
He may not have mastered the art of boxing, but at that point, nothing except flying gave Poe quite the sense of relief. It'd only been twenty minutes and he had worked himself into a frenzy. He felt his stress and frustration dripping out of his body.
"You're going to break your hands if you keep hitting things like that," a voice called out to him from behind. He snapped out of his trance and tried to slow his breathing.
It was her.
Poe only stared, resting his hands on his thighs as he caught his breath.
The woman faltered when she saw his face, like she realized she was speaking to her superior. It happened constantly and nothing annoyed Poe more.
"I, uh, sorry…sir." she spoke quickly, backing away. "I didn't think anyone would be in here. I can come back later."
"No!" Poe stood up, his feet ready to carry him after her.
The woman faced him again, looking slightly unsure of herself. Then she stood stiffly, looking him square in the eye.
"Um…thank you, Commander…" She paused.
"Dameron." Poe chuckled. "But I'd prefer if it you just called me Poe—it's well past midnight and we're the only ones in here. I see no need for protocol."
"Thank you, Commander." The woman grimaced. "Er, Poe."
"And you are…?" He leaned against the punching bag, waiting for her body to relax. It didn’t. He didn’t like making people tense.
"Isla, sir. Isla Kesson."
"Easy on that 'sir' stuff." He winked. "Isla Kesson." Poe rolled her name over on his tongue. A pretty name for a pretty woman.
"You'll get used to this soon. Yes, it's a military base, but a lot of us younger guys—and gals—are a little less formal."
She nodded, furrowing her brow as if making a mental note.
"So," he said as he stepped back. "Are you going to show me how not to shatter my hands? I need these babies, you know."
A slow smile spread across her lips. It was just a teeny bit crooked.
Poe liked it.

---

General Organa has ordered everyone to the Control Room and she wouldn't start the debriefing until the place was filled. Poe wasn't only important to Isla—he was part of the life force of this base.

Isla rubbed her tired eyes. Ada had been swept up by the Youth Officer and taken back to the children's barracks; the debriefing was "not for children's ears."

Without something to focus on, Isla's mind wandered.

---

She had just turned 24 a week ago. Her birthday passed in silence, with the exception of a short message from her aunt Iris. Twenty-four years old and she still felt like a little kid. It had been a few weeks since she'd arrived on base and she felt absolutely useless. Her group of recruits didn't looking promising—she could see it in the eyes of Captain Mayo, the woman currently overseeing their training.
Anyone who had never had military or naval experience got lumped into the training program. Isla, with her background, had clearly needed to undergo training. Mayo had told Isla this morning that if she could just follow orders, she would go far. Isla's skillset far outweighed that of the others in her group—even that of some of the senior officers. She could be a soldier, a tech—probably both, as the Resistance's body count was low—if she would just listen to authority.
Funny.
Isla needed to blow off some steam.
She hadn't expected the training center to be occupied when she showed up in the middle of the night, but a man was there. She watched him only for a moment from a distance, but she could tell his form was all over the place—he certainly wasn't a member of the ground forces.
Her father had taught her how to fight—he'd learned a few things during his few stints in prison—and she found it was something she enjoyed so much that she learned how to do it well and how to do it right.
She called out to the man, but recoiled slightly once she saw his face. It was the Commander she had flipped onto his back the other night—the night when things had gotten out of hand. She'd just wanted to practice and the next thing she knew, she was surrounded by a group of guys leering at her and betting her that she couldn't win in a fight.
The man in front of her now hadn't been one of them; he'd arrived after it had started, looking exhausted. One of his buddies had playfully shoved him in front of her. He'd looked more than a little distracted. She later found out that he was the commander of the Starfighter Corps.
As he spoke to her now, she couldn't help but notice his square jaw and matching shoulders. His darker complexion gave him a tough, no-nonsense appearance when paired with his physical stature, despite the fact that he wasn’t much taller than herself.
But then he smiled.
Isla bit her lip subconsciously.
She hadn't expected his voice to sound as soothing as it did, as friendly—with a hint of enthusiasm. If it wasn't the handsome face or the smile that convinced her to stick around and loosen up, it was the voice.
After they'd both had enough and Isla began yawning, Poe Dameron bid her goodnight. She was just about out the door when she heard, "Same time tomorrow?"
"Only if you think you can handle it."
Poe laughed, shaking his head, and gave her a friendly nod.
Isla fell asleep that morning thinking about the small twinkle of amusement in his dark eyes…and that in three hours, she would be starting her day all over again.

---

"Thanks to a little…help…from Lieutenant Dameron, we now know that Commander Dameron is back on Jakku." The General addressed the room. "But clearly he has no way of contacting us at the moment or else we surely would have heard from him by now; luckily, this matter is irrelevant because of the Lieutenant's tracking system."

A few people—Snap Wexley being on of them—chuckled. In the past, she had offered to make a chip for him as well, but he was a little squeamish and denied her.

"We will send a retrieval unit immediately—"

"I'll go." Isla straightened her posture as soon as the words left her mouth. She blinked once. She'd just cut off General Organa again.

All eyes were on her.

“Oh my,” she heard C-3PO bumble.

"I can get him out of there."

Someone from the side of the room clear his throat.

"I'm sure you can, Lieutenant Dameron, but don't you think you'll be a little too…emotional for this one. You’ve been acting out since we got the news."

There was always at least one guy waiting to put her down—every woman on base felt that way about her own experiences.

Isla paused, internally seething over the way he enunciated her last name—as if that was the only reason she was allowed in the room.

"What you mean to say is that if I'm given this mission, I will act like an emotional, hysterical woman and screw it up—get myself or, worse, Commander Dameron killed?" Isla spoke coolly. "Is that correct, or did I miss something?"

Beside her, Karé Kun nearly shook with silent laughter. Iolo Arana shook his head, a hint of a smile gracing his face.

"Please," Isla turned to the General. "I need to do this."

General Organa's lips were pressed tightly together into a thin line.

Was she really going to deny Isla after everything she and General Solo had been through together?

"Alright, Lieutenant." The General raised her eyebrows and nodded toward the door. "Go bring him home."