Through the Darkness || Finn&Rey

Chapter 37

I uncomfortably stand up from the seat, my shorts sticking to my slimy, damp skin; I notice an embarrassing wet stain in the shape of my thighs on the chair. I rub my hand over the leather and try to smudge the dampness away.
I awkwardly exit the room trying my best to causally walk through the military compound and return back to my living quarters. A lonely darkness seems to drag me into a profound misery. I visit the dining hall and collect a lunch pack before quickly leaving again. I still do not feel hungry my entire body seems to be empty, but I take it just in case.

I swipe my key card and it takes a few attempts before it registers; I suppose it wasn't the most intelligent idea to swim with it in my pocket. Putting my lunch and key on the shelf near the door, I retrieving some clean clothes from the wardrobe, remove the bandage from my wrist and enter the shower. I scrub my feet and watch as the dirt turn to mud and washes down the drain. As the water patters down upon my back there is a strange tingling sensation. I try to ignore the way my scar seems to throb and I realise it has been a while since I had done any exercises and the events of the past few days has aggravated my injured skin.
I turn off the faucets, dry myself, leaving my shirt off, but putting some short on before I exit the bathroom. I have some of my lunch before I undergo the all too familiar exercises, stretching my back to encourage an ease of movement. Eventually the tightening of my extensive burn loosens.
I work up a sweat and an appetite, so I devour the rest of my lunch and delve back into my workout regime. I focus intently on the sensations of my muscles moving beneath my skin and on counting each time I successfully complete a stretch to stop my mind from wandering.

The evening unfolds uneventfully. I stop exercising once the sun dipped behind the horizon, and I throw my shirt over my sweaty body before I go back to the dining room and quickly eat my meal alone at Poe's table.

I lie under the single sheet in my room and find myself not being haunted by Rey, but rather by the images of Kylo Ren, and the destruction he leaves in his wake.
Soon I begin to have recollections rise from the murkiest corners of my mind; events I had actively chosen to block from my memory, bubble and simmer behind my eyes. The numerous training simulations to prepare me for the battlefield, made to follow one order: murder anyone in the way, and to successfully complete any given mission. I clearly remember one simulation: a holographic raid in one of the small districts on Coruscant. Ordered to kill without discrimination, whoever is in sight and anyone in the way. "Accuracy is paramount" The captain had told me. Mid simulation I found myself occasionally slipping blaster to the side when faced with the prospect of assassinating an innocent citizen. Or my insuring my focus had averted away from a huddled family hiding behind a dumpster, one of their children wailing in distress. I flinch as I remember one of my squad members behind me silencing the cries.

I become exhausted from reliving the horrors of the First Order and start to dip in and out of a restless slumber.

Waking the next morning, my back aching and a loneliness settling deeper in; I desire company, someone to take my mind off Rey - whose face has managed to sneak up on me again - and there is only one other person here that could help.

I wander down the hallways and enter the infirmary, the night staff finishing their shift. I head to the common room, looking in the large windows and see her sitting quietly at a table; a few other doctors and nurses are in there too. I knock on the door, a small droid opens it and wizzes past in a rush.

"Finn?" I hear her chirpy tone and it brings me some peace, but then her face falls and she leaves her table to approach me. "Every time we see each other something else has happened to you. What was it this time?" she queries with gentle mockery and suspicion. I sigh, looking away from her as she turns my face to the side so she can examine the large bruised lump on the side of my head.

"It's a long story," with a forced smile I quickly change the subject, "Anyway; I thought we could have breakfast, for old times' sake?" I propose and she nods.

"You're in lucky, I haven't eaten yet," She smiles, "There is juice in the cooler and I will make some porridge," I nod, I do not have a very strong appetite but I decide I will force myself to enjoy it. She walks over to the small kitchen at the back room and I go to the cooler. I remember all the time we had eaten the bland slop injected with nutrients together in my room while I recovered. Starla would fill me in what the nurses were gossiping about, however, she always seemed to distance herself from it. I always enjoyed when she'd share tales of some of her amazing patient recoveries. Most were about pilots on the verge of death after contracting rashes and diseases upon returning from missions abroad.
I pour out two glasses of juice and sit at the table Starla was sitting at when I arrived. The room has almost emptied by the time she returns a few minutes later. She carries two bowls and sets one in front of me and the other in front of her seat. Then she takes out a small metal container from under her arm.

"Here, so you didn't have to wait what you thought would be an appropriate amount of time that I would not think you just came to ask for it." My mouth parts slightly as I twist the lid to reveal the ointment inside.
"Thank you, but I didn't just-" She raises her hand and flicks her wrist as if ridding herself of my comment

"Don't stress it," She sits down, and I smile a tiny bit.

I scope up the porridge into my mouth, repeating the motion and talking to Starla in-between spoonsful. I ask about what has been going on in the clinic after we stopped sharing breakfast, and she fills me in happily rambling for a while.

Then silence falls and I take a long sip of the juice.
"Finn, you know if something is on your mind you can talk to me about it," I half smile and nod, swallowing quickly so I can reply.

"I know, thanks, but-"
I am unable to miss when she is near, because she glows so brightly. It is as if she has the light of the stars under her feet. Rey walks slowly past the common room with her head down. It is almost as if the traces of her heart that seem to live inside mine pump me back to life, warmth spreading to through my cold body. My eyes follow her every step, I twist in my chair to keep her in my line of sight as long as possible as she walks further down the hall. However, she does not seem notice me. The feeling leaves almost as soon as it arrived. As I watch her disappear down the hallway she takes the warmth and light with her, and my heart aches. I stare at the stone wall as if it will become transparent and I will be able to see her again, but it does not.

"Trouble in paradise, again?" Starla's voice pulls me from my distraction and she places her half empty glass back on the table.

"Sorry?" I request for her to repeat herself.

"Rey and yourself, I suppose it was a bad idea for you to share a room?" I give her a questioning look as I swallow some porridge. "Word travels fast around here. Why else do you think I gave you one key?" I make a strange noise between a shocked gasp, a muffled laugh and a sigh.

"Yeah, let's just say something happened and I am unable to stay," Starla closes her eyes briefly, putting her spoon back into the bowl before taking a mouthful.

"You're leaving, again? Finn..." Starla seems disappointed, and I wonder why. I look into my glass as I gulp down the rest of my drink, averting my gaze from her as I place it back on the table.

"I can't stay," I whisper and she sighs in oddly understanding manner.

"You're welcome to call in for breakfast any time you like," She assures me, finishing her juice, I smile slightly, "Even if it's the evening," She adds quietly, and I snort out a laugh as I finish the last of my porridge.

"Thank you," She just smiles before also finishing the last of her breakfast.
"You're not one to accept appreciation, are you?" I question with playfully caution, hoping not to offend her in any way.
Starla picks up my bowl and empty glass that I have been absentmindedly spinning on the table and places them in the sink before returning and standing behind her chair, pushing it under the table as she answers.

"I am aware when someone is genuinely grateful, if they say a thank you or not," her response is ambiguous and I don't understand exactly what she means by it. "I'll see you another time, I'm sure," She smiles a little, "I've got my patients to attend to. Have a nice day, Finn," Starla smiles a little wider, and leaves me in the room. I am aware that is the closest I will receive to a farewell, and suddenly it falls in place. Starla despises saying goodbye, she told me so the first time I left, and to accept an apology, both have such finality to them. As if it is the end of something. Being a nurse she must see death and terminally ill patients regularly, to accept gratitude for her work or to say a farewell means something has ended, that it can now be forgotten. However, if Starla doesn't acknowledge either they will continue to exist. I sigh heavily, take my ointment and return to my room to await Poe's return.