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Time's Up

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Time's up.

It'd been four months and they had tried everything; nothing had worked. Finn's chest still moved up and down in a mimicry of sleep; his heart still beat in a poor imitation of life.

Ba-dump....Ba-dump....Ba-dump...

Before they had revived him he had been dead for who knows how long. His brain without oxygen and his life in the bablance.

Perhaps his heart had stopped immediately after he hit the ground, or maybe on the Millennium Falcon, or maybe just as they were wheeling him into the operating room, before they had a chance to realise his heart wasn't beating and to perform emergency resuscitation.

It was a mad rush after the destruction of the New Republic, the attack on the first order, the final blows...it's only now calming. Nothing will be the same.

Resources are scarce. Even for heroes like Finn. Especially for former stormtroopers.

General Organa, grief stricken and cold, devastated but still a leader, has made the decision and she will not be budged, as Poe has found out the hard way.

No matter how much begging he does in the end, only the facts remain.

Finn isn't waking up.

Finn is draining vital medical resources.

Finn is a hero.

Finn is a stromtrooper.

How important is he really?

Poe argues. Of course he does; he argues every minute he's not on a mission, not at the bedside of the man who saved his life and completed his misson.

"He saved my life."

"He saved all of our lives!"

"He completed my mission and brought down the First Order's defenses!"

"He's the reason we found Skywalker!"

At first she listened, those reason we're enough. But gradually, her ears grew deaf to Poe's pleas.

"Poe, I know you care," she said, her voiced laced with kindness and under lined with steel. "It's admirable, but the fact is we have dozens of critically wounded soldiers with a much higher chance for recovery if we divert resources away from hopeless cases and towards them instead."

She paused before delivering the final blow.

"He's not going to wake up, Poe. I'm sorry."

It made Poe furious. Who was she to decide who lived and who died? How could she just give up on Finn like that? Did he really decide to follow such a cold and cynical leader?

In the depths of his mind, behind all of his worry,fear, rage, and sadness, Poe understood her logic.

He knows most of those injuried soldiers, he knows keeping Finn alive is a drain of the resistance's resources, he know she is the only reason Finn is still kept alive (because Poe begged and she relented).

He understand the General must be in so much pain from the death of Han Solo at the hands of her son. He knows it's amazing the General keeps going with only the tightness around her eyes and her graying hair to show her pain. He knows that she is no stranger to loss.

The majority of Poe is dedicated to Finn though, and fighting for his life like Finn fought for Poe's.

BB-8 is a constant. Sharing moments it spent with Finn and Rey, enlightening Poe more everyday about this enigmatic man.

When he was first brought in clad in Poe's jacket and blood, Poe was scared, terrified to see the man nearly split in two as easily as the tan hide of the jacket.

Then he was relieved. Kylo Ren's lightsaber has cauterized the wound. He hadn't lost too much blood, it looked worse than it was.

Except, that was wrong. It didn't look as bad as it really was.

The weapon had caught his spine in places, his ribs had protected his vital organs but his nerves were shot.

Something had happend, his heart had failed, sensory overload, movement during transport, or, most likey, all of the above and then some.

The reault? Finn's finger were cold until Poe grabbed them when he sat down at his bedside. His closed eyes did not flutter from dreams. His chocolate colored skin was soft, heat radiated off his chest, and his mouth was slightly open to accommodate the breathing tube shoved down his throat.

He was alive.

But nobody was home, the doctors said.

Poe felt tears gather at the corner of his eyes. He felt the burn as he tried to hold them back. He felt them slide down his cheeks. Falling in little rivers as if the tears were all of his hopes and fears and dreams of the future finally released, finally escaped, finally given up on.

They were doing it tomorrow. General Organa would be there.

Poe didn't know if he had the strength to hold himself back from screaming at her.

How could she do this, Finn was still in there,he wanted to shout, you're killing him, he water to scream.

All of those hopes and fears fell down his cheeks and landed on Finn's hand where Poe was hunched over it, clutching it as if it were the only thing tethering him to his to sanity.

His sanity that was on a thin wire after the torture it had been subjected to at the hands of the First Order.

Nothing was heard besides the heartbreaking sobs of the best pilot in the galaxy as he cried for a man he barely knew but felt like he had known for his whole life.

Nothing changed. Finn didn't twitch. The tears slid off his hand and onto the sheets. The General was coming tomorrow and nothing Poe could say or do would change that.

Finn's time was up.