Solo's Jedi ~Poe Dameron/Star Wars ~

Chapter Thirty Six: A Superior

"General," it was Poe's voice calling me out of my thoughts as usual, standing behind me. "How is she?"

"Stable," I shrugged, glancing over my shoulder to see my mother's unconscious body. I daren't look any more, so I turned back to him with a frown, watching him carefully as he stood in the doorway, almost awkwardly as if he didn't know what to do. "What's with the sudden formality?"

"Well, since your mother's still recovering... You're our only general left, Luce," he sighed, crossing the room and sitting down on the window ledge, looking over at me almost desperately, as if he was feeling just as lost as I was.

"Don't remind me," I muttered harshly, sitting down next to him. "I can't do this, Poe. It was all a mistake, me being a general. I'm not my mother, I can't lead the resistance like she could,"

"Luce, no one's expecting you to be your mother," Poe sighed, taking hold of my hands, though I couldn't bare to meet his eyes, staring down at my boots as I willed myself not to cry. "Everyone understands, you know. We understand how much you've been through, but I believe in you. I know you can do this, and your mother did too. You can do this, Luci, I know you can. I love you,"

Poe squeezed my hands in his three times gently before pulling one of them away, using it to cup my cheek as he made me look at him. Once I met his eyes I felt like a weight had been lifted from my chest. He'd always been there to support me, and knowing he still had my back felt like a relief. It was as if in that moment he'd made the world stop spinning so fast, and as his fingers softly brushed my hair from my face I sighed, edging closer to him, moving to rest my head against his chest. I shut my eyes, savouring the way he pulled me into an embrace, stroking my hair and kissing the top of my head.

That moment didn't last much longer though, as a quiet knock at the door interrupted us then, the door opening to reveal Finn, looking rather anxiously in the direction of my mother though his eyes did not change when he saw me.

"There's a meeting we're expected to report to, especially you, Luci," he said and I got up with a sigh.

"I can't go looking like this," I muttered, standing up and glancing at my reflection in the glass window. "Give me time to change?"

"We'll be late," Finn stated, looking almost wide-eyed.

"Why'd they start a meeting without the only general left?" I almost snapped but then began to laugh.

I left the room, heading into my own quarters across the corridor. I went straight to the bathroom and took a quick, cold shower. I didn't realise how hot I'd been before. My nerves after the First Order attack were wrecked and I'd gotten sweaty, so I tried to cool myself down, tried to regain my calm. After stepping out, I towelled myself dry quickly, attempting to warm myself back up a little, which was when my eyes were drawn to the mirror.

I looked a wreck. My hair was sopping wet in rat tails, my skin looked red and blotchy from crying and stress. The only consolation I could find at my appearance was the thought of how I looked on the outside matched how I felt on the inside. With a sigh, I closed my eyes and bit my lip, deciding that no matter how broken I felt, I had no right to show it to anyone. We were all suffering, all of the Resistance was suffering, and I had no right to burden anyone with my problems. My problems could no longer be personal, my sole focus had to be on the Resistance, like it would be for my mother if she was in my place. I could mourn later, could cry later, but in that moment, I needed to be a general.

I quickly braided my hair into one simple plait before looping it round into a bun onto the top of my head, changing into a dark purple jumpsuit. It was formal, what a general should wear, but also practical, like a soldier, like a Jedi. I attached my weapons belt around my waist, making sure my light saber was proudly on show, before pulling on my dad's jacket, or, my jacket, as it was just that now. Glancing in the mirror, I was almost proud of how well put together I looked. It was almost like I was a normal, functioning human, instead of a grieving mess, but either way, I looked fine enough to be around people.