42. That was her number. Now with the resistance, 42 must cover her past life which proves difficult when she cannot tell her true name. And that Dameron guy . . . He needs to stop asking questions.
Follows The Rise of Skywalker
"No, no, no!" I watched as 42 crumpled to her knees then fell forwards. Ren rarely missed.
"3-PO, man the ship!" I yelled to the droid before running out.
I sprinted across the desert sand and ran into Finn.
"C'mon, we gotta get her back to the ship!" I said quickly. "Help me get her."
Rey and Kylo fought for force control of the launching ship before my eyes. They did not care about me and Finn behind them.
We dragged 42 under the arms across the sand and back into the ship.
With all that armor, you'd think she'd be heavy. She was so light. Now gripping her by an unarmored portion of her arm, I realized how skinny she was. I remembered how Madalorians rarely took of their helmets even to eat. It was no life to live.
I grabbed what looked to be an old med kit and dusted it off. There was little inside to help other than some burn gel.
"Agh . . ." I grunted. I wished we had the Falcon.
I turned her limp head to see the wound.
"I think we need to take off the helmet," I mumbled.
"I was afraid you'd say that," said Finn.
I had an idea. "Well how about I just take off the helmet and you don't have to see her face. That way, only one of us does and she won't be as mad?"
Finn looked at me skeptically.
"Ah, you're right," I said. "She's going to be mad either way."
I carefully took the helmet by the sides and lifted it. It was practically stuck in her neck wound.
"That does not look good," Finn mumbled.
"Not helping!" I said through gritted teeth. "What about Rey? Can't she do the force thing?"
"She looks busy—" Finn trailed off. He looked out the ship door in awe. The ship Rey and Ren had been fighting over came crashing down. "Chewy . . ."
"Not him too!" I was close to tears; everything was falling apart.
Rey was now walking back to the ship in a dazed horror.
I slid of the Madalorian's helmet, her braid unfurling in the process.
42's teal eyes were open, unblinking. I thought for a moment she was conscious. Then I waved my hand over her face, realizing they were glass-like and dull.
"C'mon, c'mon," I pleaded. "Not here, not now." I pulled her body into my lap.
Rey entered the ship, her mouth open in shock.
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"Can't you do something?" I began, looking down at the extent of the wound.
Rey knelt down, soft tears falling from her face. She placed a hand over 42's bloodied neck and concentrated. The wound began to heal as pieces of skin crawled back together.
42 did not stir.
Rey finished healing. "I'm sorry, that's all I can do . . ." She stopped her sentence.
42's fingers had twitched.
"Yes, that's it," I said, a little hope creeping into my chest. I caressed the side of her face with my callused palm.
"Poe, she's—" Rey began softly.
Finn and Rey watched on with tears in their eyes.
"No! She can't be!" I protested. I held her limp body in my hands.
I hoisted 42 closer, putting an ear to her chest. I couldn't hear anything because of the dense armor. "Help me get her armor off," I said and began working desperately to remove the chest piece.
"Poe," Finn started.
"C'mon, help me out here," I said.
"Poe—" Finn pressed again.
I wasn't listening.
"Poe!"
"What?" I answered finally.
"Buddy, look at her," Finn started softly. "She's gone." He put a hand on my shoulder.
My hands faltered, then removed her chest plate. The metal piece hit the floor with a reverent thud.
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Her teal eyes remained glassy.
"But I thought I saw her hand—" I sighed. They were right.
Rey knelt down next to me and put a comforting hand on my back. She slid her fingers over those ocean-blue eyes, shutting them.
