It was Finn's own damn fault really. He was sent on a mission to infiltrate one of the First Order's newest facilities. It was a simple routine, get in, get the info, and get out. But, as always, there were complications. Finn had survived and gathered the Intel, but not without having his arms shot, and his back injured. Troopers always aimed for the joints as a way to slow the enemy down. If they killed the intruder early, then Phasma, or Hux wouldn't have the ability to interrogate them later. Finn got away…but only barely.

"Finn, if you'd just stop fighting me and open your mouth, we'd be done with this by now." And now Poe, the greatest pilot in the galaxy, had assigned himself as Finn's personal nurse maid while Finn recuperated. General Leia had given him strict orders to stay in the sick bay while he healed. Needless to say, Finn wasn't happy about it.

"Poe," Finn said, "I already told you I'm fine." He tried to escape the spoon filled with squashed fruit that Poe was, ineffectively, trying to shove into his mouth. Finn didn't want food, he wanted action. He wanted excitement. He wanted to fined Kylo Ren and ring his stupid neck.

"Seriously?" Poe asked, "Just open up and eat. How can you expect to get better if you don't allow your body to rest?"

"Soldiers don't need rest. They best thing they can do is keep fighting. That's what I was raised for."

Poe placed the spoon down, "I really hate it when you say shit like that." It had been weeks since Finn had joined the Resistance, and yet he still spoke like he did not belong here. Every day, Poe saw Finn running missions, shooting targets, laying out the best strategies for taking out First Order strongholds. It was almost like he was trying to prove something.

But what worried Poe the most was the face that Finn never took a break. Sometimes it was like Poe had to wrestle the guy to the ground just to get him to relax, and even that never worked because Finn had been training to fight his entire life.

"Look kid," Poe said, "General Leia has already ordered you to rest and relax, and I'm going to make sure you do it."

Finn wasn't really in any position to argue, but that didn't meant he had to like it. All his life, he had learned to depend on himself. When he and his platoon had gotten lost in the fields of Yavin after a raid, they survived off of instinct alone. Every man for themselves. Every trooper for themselves. If you couldn't take care of yourself, you deserved to die, and were no use to the Order, and even now, Finn felt like a failure for being confined to the sickbay when the battle raged on without him. He knew he shouldn't feel this way, it wasn't his fault and he did his part…but it was just so difficult to get passed. He wanted to work harder than anyone else, try and make up for the evil he had done, and the people he hurt. And now that his blaster had been replaced with a bandaged chest, he felt the weight of his misdeeds on him even more.

Did Poe know what the others said about Finn? How they sneered, how they glanced, how they joked. They didn't trust him. In fact, there was a bet going on of how soon Finn would return to the Order and sell the Resistance out. It was disgusting, but he couldn't blame them. He'd think the same, in fact, he'd be lying if he said there were times he didn't think of returning to the First Order…but then he remembered all the broken lives he helped create.

"Don't do that," Poe said.

"What?" Finn asked, leaning back into his bed, and gazing up at the ceiling.

"Don't overthink. Don't wallow in your own self-pity…it ain't attractive."

"Ohhh…well, can't have that now can we?" Finn said. Poe was a hero of the Resistance. Hell, there were some people who even had posters of him on their wall. What would he know of disgrace?

Poe placed the bowl down, and leaned onto his elbows, "You think I don't see it? How you overwork yourself? How you take shift after shift without any sleep, or any food. Hell, it's because of all that overwork shit that nearly got yourself killed."

"Poe…I don't need you to take care of me."

"Clearly you do, because no one else will."

"Maybe…" Finn stopped, his hands grabbed a palm-full of his own bedsheets. "…maybe I don't deserve to have someone take care of me."

And there it was. As plain as the three moons of Dagobah.

"And what makes you think that?" Poe asked, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. They were in a sickbay after all, and there were others who were trying to heal as well.

"Because I'm not a good person, Poe. You don't know what I've done. Who I was before, or-"

"Kid," Poe said, "Who you were is nowhere near as important as who you are now. What you're doing now. What you stand for now."

It was obvious to anyone who spent more than five minutes with Finn that he never had anyone to take care of him. To look after him, or make sure he slept. Poe had heard stories about how the First Order branded their soldiers, treated them like droids. Hell, those guys didn't even have names. The closest thing they had were designation numbers. ER-4143, or CT-0978. Sometimes, late at night when the rest of the base had fallen asleep, Poe would wrap his arms around Finn's waist, just to confirm that he was still there, and he hadn't gone off on some suicide mission. Poe needed reassurance that Finn, his Finn, was still with him.

"You're not FN-2187, kid. You're Finn," Poe said. "You're my Finn. Our Finn. Finn who practices force training with Maz. Finn who likes to eat eggs for lunch. Finn who gets nauseous every time he has a sip of Blue milk." Poe jabbed his thick finger into Finn's chest, "And don't ever think for a second that you're not."

Poe grabbed the bowl, and stirred its contents. "Now, open your mouth. I'm not going anywhere until I make sure you've eaten every last bit of this."

Finn didn't argue. How could he? Poe was too stubborn to listen to anything else he had to say. So, Finn had his lunch. An old fruit found on Corusant that was said to hurry the healing process. It was rare to come by, but Poe had pulled some strings.

Being taken care of, having someone's hands around your waist when you slept at night. Learning to accept the love of others around you…it was something Finn had not yet conquered. The First Order taught him that feelings lead to defeat.

But if that defeat meant Poe would be by his side, then Finn did not mind. In fact, he probably choose defeat every time.