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Il Risveglio

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Rey wipes the condensation from the mirror with her hand just as Poe’s taking throwing his shirt into the dirty laundry basket and starts unbuttoning his pants.
“You didn’t finish all the hot water, did you?”, he asks, his reflection disappearing as he pushes down his pants.
“Do I look like Finn to you?”, she chuckles back, grabbing a brush and starting to try to disentangle her hair.
Poe giggles and walks into the shower.
Rey looks at her reflection as she brushes her hair, grinning by herself at how much rounder her face is, at the fact the constant sunburn on her nose and cheeks has disappeared, and her lips aren’t cracked and bleeding.
She was ready to spend her whole life surrounded by scorching hot nothingness. And now, now she has a home, though a wandering one, and she has Finn and Poe.
One morning, while Poe had left the Millennium Falcon to go get some supplies, Finn sneaked into Rey’s bed just so he could ask her, still warm and a bit confused by sleep: “Can you believe how lucky we are?”
Sure, the life of a rebel isn’t an easy one, but it’s life.
She’s considering giving up on brushing her hair and go wake up Finn; press her clean, fresh, pink body to his warm one and just not let him go for a bit, when Poe starts singing.
Rey looks at his blurred reflection in the mirror, surprised. She doesn’t understand the words of the song, but though the rhythm is upbeat, it somehow sounds sad.
“What does it mean?”, asks Rey, before she can stop herself. She doesn’t want Poe to stop singing, but the words just bubble out of her.
“Uh?”, murmurs Poe, “Oh, it’s about women working in the fields, and the sun making everything die, and the duke that owned the land they were working stealing from them. It’s pretty sad, now that I think about it…”, his voice trails away.
Is he thinking back about all of the words? Rey wonders if the women themselves made up this song, to have something sing about during the long hours of work. If she’d known any songs, back in Jakku, she would have screamed at the top of her lungs, she would have filled the giant empty vaults of dead starships with stories.
She wonders if Poe can teach her.

*

Finn can’t sleep again. The last First Order base they raided and destroyed was in the coldest part of the planet they were on. Something in the air, perhaps. The way his eyes burned from the cold, the twirling snow, something about the place had burst a dam inside Finn’s mind.
He was shaking hard when he got back on the Millennium Falcon, and wouldn’t stop even after Poe wrapped a blanket around him and squeezed him tight, holding him still until he fell asleep.
In his dreams, he’s lying in the burning cold snow. A dark figure is standing in front of Rey, red lightsaber shimmering, painful to Finn’s eyes. Kylo Ren advances, and Rey can’t move. Finn knows what’s coming, he knows he can’t do anything about it, broken and bleeding and weak as he is. He tried closing his eyes, but it’s as if his eyelids were transparent. He sees. He sees everything.
He woke up and fell asleep countless times, since he went to bed. Sometimes it’s Rey being torn apart, sometimes it’s Poe, Poe as Finn saw him when they first met, hurt and terrified and shaking.
BB-8 catches Finn walking towards the kitchen and beeps at him. Worry. He’s getting better at understanding her. Wherever she was going, she turns around and follows him.
They’re supposed to be on some weirdly-named planet in a few hours. Finn means to ask Poe, who’s been keeping an eye on their route, if he wants to switch places and go take a nap.
Poe is sitting on the pilot’s seat, his legs on the co-pilot seat, eyes closed, humming softly.
Finn isn’t familiar with the language he’s singing in, but some of the words are similar to other languages he knows. There’s a ‘wind’ and ‘break’ and ‘beautiful’.
It’s a sad-sounding song, with the sweet rhythm of a lullaby. BB-8 beeps in appreciation, and Poe opens his eyes and smiles at Finn.
“What was that?”, Finn asks, “It was so nice…”
“It’s something my mom used to sing to me”, Poe says, “She’d picked it up somewhere during the war.”
“What does it say? The bit you sang just now, with the wind…”
“It says: ‘Here comes the wind and shakes the branch. Hold on my beautiful boy, or we’ll fall; and if we fall, we’ll fall to the ground, and we’re made of glass and we will break’.”
“That’s so sad”, murmurs Finn, “Why is it so sad?”
“I think it’s about how fleeting things are”, says Poe, “I never really thought about the words when I was little.”
“Did she, hm…”, whispers Finn, then hesitates. “Did she sing to you often?”, he asks, trying to ignore the lump in his throat.
He wonders if his own mother would have done that. What kind of songs do people sing on the planet he was originally from, anyway? He doesn’t even know where that is. It has always felt so weird to him, being able to feel so viscerally the loss of something he never had…
“Not as often as I would have liked. She did sing me to sleep. My dad sang all the time”, he smiles.
Finn smiles back. BB-8 beeps, bumping softly into Poe’s arm.
“Yes”, says Finn, distractedly, looking at Poe; “Can you sing it again?”

*

Finn sits beside her, handing her a glass of something that makes her head spin just by giving it a sniff. He looks happy, Finn, even though he’s got a bruise on the side of his face, and has to move carefully because of his hurt rib.
Rey understands. She understand what they’re celebrating. They’re celebrating being alive, they’re celebrating the friends that are back with them, and those that are not. They’re celebrating how at home they are. And all they needed to make this strange planet was a bonfire, something to drink and eat, and each other’s company.
“Come on!”, someone is telling Poe, who’s sitting opposite to them around the fire. “We all know you’re not shy, so you’ve got no excuses.”
“All right, fine”, laughs Poe, gulping the contents of his glass and clearing his voice.
He doesn’t start singing immediately, he licks his lips, closes his eyes, as if listening to music only he can hear. When he starts singing, the whole camp seems to go quiet. He sings the first bit alone, his voice rising in the night, the forest around them itself seems to be holding its breath. Slowly, other voices join.
Rey looks at them, tries to listen as carefully as she can. Some sing the same song, but the words are different. Some sing in what sounds like another language altogether.
“Do you understand it?”, she asks Finn, in a whisper.
Finn nods. He looks so absorbed. “One night I was walking past the swamps”, he translates, “And I heard the frogs sing. One by one, I heard them sing. They sounded like the murmuring of the sea. The murmuring of the sea is too strong…”
It’s a love song, she realizes. About someone taking a walk at night, and remembering a lost love, and how, even though they tried as hard as they could, life had pushed them further and further apart. One of them got married, the other went to war. But still, the song said, after a lifetime, after one had lived and the other died, the heart of the person singing still belonged to the other.
“I don’t think it’s about the song”, says Finn.
No, Rey doesn’t either. It’s about the swamps, and the frogs, and the sea. It’s about the planet that had given birth to the song. She can almost see it, if she closes her eyes. Dry grass on sandy dunes, the sea shimmering, the taste of salt on her tongue. The people singing may be singing a story, but they’re also singing their home.
And Poe’s voice is so sweet, it rises and falls like the crashing of waves on shore, it’s strong where it needs to be, delicate in the bits in which the words are strong enough to speak for themselves.
Finn leans into her. She wraps an arm around him, pressing her forehead against his temple, and closes her eyes.

*

The battle has went on for four whole days, and mostly on the surface. Finn hasn’t been this tired in a long, long time; so he doesn’t even take off his clothes once they’re back on the Millennium Falcon, he just flops on his bed and falls asleep seemingly as soon as his body touches the mattress.
He wakes up in only his shirt and underwear, and isn’t entirely sure how that happened. He guesses either Rey or Poe were a tiny bit less tired than he was, and helped out.
It’s relatively late, but Finn is still sleepy. He takes a shower, looks at the blood and dirt slowly flow off of him, thinking maybe he can find Poe and Rey and persuade one, or both of them, to take a nap with him, or at least cuddle a bit.
He means to walk to the day area of the ship, but bumps into BB-8 on the way.
“Hey”, he asks, “Where’s everybody?”
BB-8 make a series of beeping noises, then starts rolling in the opposite direction. Finn follows.
There’s a constant, loud hum in the engine room. It’s an old ship, so things creak and groan and pop. Poe is sitting on the floor, back to a tangle of metal tubes. Rey is curled up against him, head on his lap. He’s singing her something that sounds like a proper lullaby, fingers running through her hair.
The language isn’t something Finn instantly recognizes, but it seems to be a mix of two languages he does know: “The stars look at me from up above, and with the moon they whisper in secret; they laugh and tell me: to the wind you throw your songs, they’re lost. Goodnight, I leave you and run away. Keep sleeping; I’m sad to leave. But anywhere I’ll go, I’ll wander, I’ll stay, I’ll always keep you in my heart.”
He’s not sure Rey understand the words, but she’s biting down hard on her lips, bit fat tears rolling from her eyes, not making a sound.
Once the song is over, Poe intertwines his fingers with Rey’s, brings her hand to his lips, and presses a kiss against the back of it. Rey squeezes his hand tight and squeezes her eyes shut, shoulder shaking in a silent sob.

*

Poe is planting kisses against the curve of Finn’s spine. Finn’s head is against Rey’s chest, his eyes almost closed, a tired but satisfied expression on his face. Rey almost expects him to start purring.
She still feels his fingertips pressing against her thighs, the bruises he carefully sucked against the inside of her thighs are still warm from his lips.
Finn being pressed between the two of them is one of the things Rey loves the most.
Poe finally snuggles against Finn, lips pressed against his shoulder, sighing happily.
“Can you sing me a song?”, asks Finn, his voice just a whisper. “The one about the sound of the sea.”
“Sure”, answers Poe, with a smile, and starts singing.
It’s not the clear, strong voice he uses when singing around the campfire, or under the shower. It’s the same soft, gentle, almost frail tone he uses when he sings to himself.
Finn sighs. A deep sigh, like that of a little puppy. Rey can feel his eyelashes lazily tickle her collarbone.
Hesitantly, she starts singing too. Poe’s eyes smile at her. Finn holds her a bit tighter.
She’s sure the barracks Finn grew up in were as cavernous and silent as her carved out ships. She won’t be quiet anymore.