Log:Resistance: The Major Knows Best

{{LogBox | LogTitle=The Major Knows Best | Location=Yelsik's Valor | Participants=Poe Dameron, Tallie Lintra | OOCDate=September 15, 2019

Two pilots that grew up on farms, flying A Wings that belonged to their heroic parents, now find themselves on the crew deck of a quiet ship. The occasional hull creak sounds, or a distant laugh of a passing crew member in the corridor. Poe Dameron? He was here, still pretty banged up from crashlanding but alive. He set a chilled bottle of Corellia's best, and poured the venerable Tallie Lintra a glass before he gave himself one. Without a word, he lifts the glass up in slight salute and sips.

A blink, a searching look and a minute crease in an otherwise smooth forehead precedes Lintra taking the other glass. Mirroring the salute, she sips the whiskey never taking her eyes off the Major. Recognition blooms in her eyes and she nods slightly before taking another sip.

"The Corellian is good for what ails you," she says, with the roughness of the whiskey lingering in her voice.

"It was my father's closest friend after my mother..." Sip. Poe leans back, flashing the slightly opened flightsuit he wore to display the collar of his bare chest and the presence of a leather stripped necklace. "How are you holding up, Tallie?" Poe meets the Captain's gaze with a dark, unwavering one of his own. A fresh shadow of hair dots his handsome facial features, and curly hair, remains untamed atop his head. He appeared to be the very definition of what a rebel might look like.

"Good times, good pals," she lifts her glass back to him.

"Ah." Another sip. Her eyes break from his and she drags them back. In sharp contrast to him, were she in overalls she would be the young woman at the fair showing off her best animal, a toddler peeking shyly from behind her leg at the strangers admiring their prize bantha. On closer inspection, fatigue takes the gloss off her flawless skin, the black flight suit highlighting her pallor.

"Been better, if I'm honest."

Poe acknowledges the salute to Good times, and good pals. He allows a charming smile briefly, watching her sip. He follows suit, polishing off his glass and reaching for the bottle. "What's dragging you back?" He poured himself a refill and gestured to refill hers. He could see the exhaustion behind her eyes, and perhaps that was something they both shared.

"Feels like I never left that A-Wing sometimes," Tallie admits, lips tight as she makes herself say it aloud. "Lazy. Not taking care of myself till it gets in the way." Her eyes narrow at the effort it takes to make these admissions.

Poe reaches out and cups a hand over her's, squeezing slightly. "It's not something you have to work on alone, you know?" If she looked to him, Poe manages a reassuring look. "Honestly, Tallie, whatever you need. I'd push two stars apart with my barehands if it helped you."

Pure panic darkens her eyes. This habit of secrecy began with the dreams, night after night of interrupted sleep leaving her blurry and oversensitive everyday. Now, he wants to crack that open? She would rather face a TIE with shields down. She tries to edge her hand out from under his then looks up. Shields down. The brave thing to do.

"Just plain..." Selfishness is the word she wanted to use. More honestly, "Tired. I'm tired, sir. I'm so sorry."

It was her prerogative to push him away. Her hand easing from his clues him in, and he retreats, his lips forming a thin line for the time it takes to knock his glass back. When the glass is drained, he chuckles and reaches over to grab the whiskey bottle. "Nothing to be sorry about, Tallie. Just.. let me know if I can help with anything." Another reassuring look, and the Major begins to rise up from the table. "I'm gonna go work this leg out. Damned Terex and his blaster.." He grumbles.

Tallie stands with him, glancing left and right, unable to settle on a fixed spot. "I was afraid, I'd start crying, Poe," she says voice tight, reaching out to settle her palm on his upper arm. "And wouldn't stop."

He's halted from moving and first glances to her hand on his arm, then to her. A slight surprise marks his expression. "So cry, Tallie. Get it out. Scream, throw drek around, get it /out/ of your system. What we do isn't easy. Ever. And it isn't going to get any easier." Poe pushes past protocol and just offers a hug, widening his arms. "Come here, please.."

Protocol stutters, freezes her, habits of secrecy, holding it in. Tallie edges into the circle of his arms and tentatively lays her cheek against his broad shoulder. She releases a cautious sigh testing the safety of this place, relaxing in small fits and starts.

Poe sets the glass and bottle back on the table, then encircles her fully. Poe isn't a large man, but he is solid, and deliberately built like a man who has soldiered his entire life. His hands are large, and he places one flatly against her back, pulling her firmly against him. "Just let it out." There's no judgement in his tone.

Quietly a wet patch darkens the fabric under her face, a struggle for breath and for a short while the room is as dark as space. They are nearly the same height but she is fine boned under her muscles, thinner than she was before their last deployment. His hand is pure comfort which frightens her.

"I...," a sob swallows the rest of what she wanted to say, a minute tremble starts in her knees as she tries not to wail aloud.

Poe holds her up no issue, taking the time to gently rub her back with a warm hand. "Good." Is all he says, content to stand there as long as needed for her to convey what was clawing to get out. He sets his gaze to the far wall, trying to think of something, anything that would make her feel better.

The first sob aloud startles her into a hiccup. She doesn't have the strength to fight back anymore. Ugly, wracking convulsive gasps fill the dark space that she is being held up in. Fists clenched, she pummels his back and shoulder still trying to fight the tide that will wash her away. Time is lost until the crying begins to slow, her diaphragm spasming as she begins to come back to herself.

Poe was containing her, sustaining and weathering the blows against his back without much of a look beyond grimacing here and there when her crying began to affect him emotionally. He held his bearing though, but his eyes watered some. When everything begin to slow down for her, he cupped his hand along the back of her head and gently brushed through her pretty hair if only to help calm her. This time, he didn't have any words.

"You are going to have to ...," a convulsive breath chokes off her words. She tries again, whispering, "You are going to have put this uniform in the refresher." She slumps against him, too tired to move but duty and protocol rears its head. Swallowing, brushing her face with one hand she hugs him, wordless thanks for the soothing hand, allowing her to ride that tide of grief without comment or judgment.

That admission surprises a hearty laugh from the Ace pilot, and he accepts her hug throughout the chuckling. "It's good I have spare, but it's not a problem." When they part finally, he steps back a step to look her over, then reaches down for the paper-towels. "Here." He takes a step forward, offering.

Unabashed nose blowing follows, she won't apologize for crying for all who had been lost. The grief is still there but a door has opened. She is not alone. "I should probably talk to the psych people, huh?" That is a miserable admission.

"Yeah, probably. Jess says the only thing I'm good at is flying and giving her migraines." He says, chuckling again though at his own expense. "If you just need to throw things around though, you come find me. Find a way to get it out, alright. That drek doesn't get any better with time. Some say talking helps, others find different.. coping.. mechanisms." Poe lifts a brow humorously.

"When I start drinking and sleeping with half the Fleet, I won't let you know," she cracks and hiccups. "Ektor is a fine example. You give us all migraines, sir. Drinking hurts too much, I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

"It's a slippery slope, that's for sure. Ha." Ektor is an example for a lot of things. Poe just shakes his head, a slow-burning chuckle following. "I'll see if I can get someone out here for you guys to talk to. Someone who won't give you all migraines." Poe's amused, but genuine.

Tallie shares the chuckle with a smile, still under the physical shock of having cried so hard. Staring at the bulkhead she says haltingly, "My dad was, ah, is a private kind of man. He held it all in even after my mother...yeah." She lets Poe see her confusion at having to revise her version of how to be a grownup and a leader. "Who would get what it's like? See. I thought of something when I was crying, sir." It takes a deep breath, then another for her to admit, "I don't think I have felt right since I woke up adrift in space." She squeezes her eyes shut waiting for the world to crumble at that admission.

"I owe you an apology." Poe says, gently. "Look, I've not said it. I didn't want to trigger any feelings but now seems the right time. I'm sorry, Tallie. I'm sorry you were left behind. We all thought-- Well, we thought you didn't make it. I was in the hangar when that rocket hit. There was no you, no ship, no maintenance crew, nothing but fire. If I had known you were still out there.. I would've come back for you." Poe looks down slightly, ashamed of himself.

Tallie's eyes pop open in surprise, she looks intently at Poe and laughs hollowly, "Trigger any...?" Shaking her head, she closes her eyes, filling her lungs before expelling the breath in small increments. "I thought I would never stop waking up at night in that cockpit," she breaths.

"I never once thought about that. I wouldn't have searched, not after that, not with them in the system. I know you would have come back for me if you had known. I know that." She drops her head, clenching her fingers together before rising. She closes the distance between them to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, sir. Really."

"No, you deserve better. I won't fail you again. I promise." Poe steps forward and hugs Tallie once more, pulling her close and squeezing. After a moment, he steps back again. "I'm glad we got to talk. I've wanted to say that for a long time. A /long/ time." He manages to smile again. "I'm glad you came back to us."

"Somebody has to kick Ektor's ass, sir," Tallie's smile is tremulous after he releases her but she stubbornly sticks to it for his sake. "Thank you for saying that. I just know you would. Now. I never thought I needed to hear that but know now. Right? See. I have always wondered if I could have done something differently. Been more alert. Scrambled us. I don't know. Late night thoughts that don't change what happened."

"Kylo knew if we got out there, his ass was done. We won't make the same mistake again." Poe grins a lopsided, prideful grin. "I have thought it too. More when you returned to us. I'd say the guilt was overwhelming, but even that word lacks the luster. In truth, you were just showing me up. At least you made it out of the hangar to fight them." Bending the truth a bit. "They're the ones who ran away from you! Am I right?"

Real affection animates the despairing shake of her head, a smile tugs a corner of her mouth waking a dimple back up. "Nice story! When a blown out A-Wing with an unconscious pilot in it puts the wind up their backs, we've won. Yep. I was scary alright."

"Well, I survived the blast only to look like a fried transistor covered in soot. It didn't burn my hair though." He reaches up to brush a few errant curls aside.

"Now, /that/ would have been a loss to the fleet." She curls a loose lock of her own hair around a finger, eyebrows raised, unsuccessfully stifling her grin.

"Agreed. Morale would've plummeted." Poe's chuckle segues to a long laugh. "Okay, I do have to slip out. I promised Kare we'd get her rifle worked on. I'll be back later. Thanks for trusting me, Tallie." He winks, then collects the liquor and glass to head out.