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Isn’t it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?
– Douglas Adams
[---]
Poe stares down at Finn’s unconscious form, exhaustion blooming from every nerve of his body. Another nightmare – Finn hadn’t told him, hadn’t told anyone, how bad it had been. He hadn’t said how many sleepless nights he’d spent wandering through the Resistance base, trying to ignore or forget the memories lurking in the shadows. He’d taken notes, suggestions on how to make operations smoother in essentially ever aspect of the Resistance work – Poe had been impressed, had once again been reminded that Finn had been on the fast-track towards General of the First Order – noting that fuel lines should be spread out, that pilots needed to vary their routes, that more needed to be set aside in their stores.
The Resistance was good, of course, but it was cobbled together from many different backgrounds, all loosely twined together, a piecemeal front against an organized and deadly enemy birthed from the ashes of the Empire. They needed to be better, cleaner, tighter; Poe recognized that in Finn’s notes.
But the suggestions were not worth this. Poe wishes again, fruitlessly, that Finn had asked for help.
Poe lays a gentle hand on Finn’s forehead, wincing at the shivers still wracking Finn’s body. He softly strokes Finn’s sweaty forehead as the door to the medbay quietly slides open and one of the medics walks back in. Kix had given him a sedative to help him sleep, and from the look on the clone’s face as he read Finn’s charts, this was the first proper night’s rest Finn had had in at least three weeks.
Kix had taken one look at Finn and appointed himself his unofficial guardian. He rarely talked about his past – fifty years, frozen, Poe still shivered at the thought – but the pain that had flashed in his eyes when Finn told him his old designation number had finally made Kix break his silence. A tiny crack in the ice, as it were.
“You’ve done more than enough, Dameron. You need sleep, too.”
“Finn-”
“Will be fine. You have a patrol scheduled at 0700, remember?”
Poe grumbles under his breath but stands all the same, and Kix’s lips twitches up in a smile.
[---]
Finn walks next to Kix as the older man leads him through the base. Well – Finn’s not really sure how to quantify Kix’s age. He’s not really sure Kix does, either, but he has the quiet commanding presence of a veteran, so Finn treats him as such.
Sometimes he can tell Kix is as lonely as he is.
The last clone trooper. Finn can’t help but shudder at such a cruel fate. But when Kix stops suddenly and turns to him, any trace of pain, of loneliness or regret, is buried under a warm, welcoming smile. Finn glances over the clone’s shoulder at an unremarkable gray door, way off in a less-used wing of the base. Here, there are only supply closets and extra bunks in case of a sudden influx of recruits. “So. This is… well. I wouldn’t call it a secret, because I never thought of it like that, but it’s not normally something I invite people in to explore.”
“Oh – well, I’m honored, sir.” It slips out, and both military men wince reflexively, pained for different reasons.
Kix waves it aside. “Old habits, I know how it is.” The door slides open and they step inside of another short hallway filled with – gardening tools? Finn’s not really sure what to expect as Kix haltingly explains – the words seem caught up in the back of his throat, like he’s been longing to explain to anyone who might understand for ages but couldn’t, swelling up painfully like sores on his mind, “I came here, to the Resistance, after a short stint on a smuggler’s ship. First few weeks, months even, were a nightmare. I was trying to figure out… well, everything. Trying to get caught back up, trying to reconcile that everyone I knew and loved…”
Finn politely turns his attention to a pair of well-worn gloves next to viciously sharp shears as Kix pauses for a moment. There’s a gentle warm breeze coming from behind the other door, slipping through the cracks.
“Anyways, I realized I needed something to focus on; a project that wasn’t military or medical related, because that’s what I’ve been doing my entire life. I got tired of holding a blaster, I got tired of fighting. I wanted to… heh. It sounds a little ridiculous, but I wanted to nurture something that hadn’t been injured. And I think you need that too, Finn. Something to focus on.”
He pushes open the outer door, and gestures for Finn to walk through.
A blast of warm, sweet-smelling air hits him in the face as he steps into a greenhouse in full, vibrant, verdant bloom. Curling vines, thick branches leaves, delicate and vibrant flowers in every shape, color, and size fill his view, all under a thick ceiling of clear, clean glass. It’s a rare sunny day on D’Qar, the sunlight hitting waxy emeralds and shiny jades and laying delicate golden mosaics on the dull duracrete floor.
“I can heal your physical injuries, no problem. But this thing you’re fighting through now, these shadows and memories – I went through the same thing.” Kix gestures him towards a table sagging under the weight of dozens of potted plants. One of them is a small bush with bright red and yellow peppers and drooping, dry leaves. “This one’s sick. Can’t figure out what it wants but it hasn’t given up yet, so I won’t, either. I want you to keep an eye on it. Nurture it back to health, if you can.”
He puts a gentle hand on Finn’s shoulders. “Healing is a practice, Finn. It’s a hard thing to learn, and sometimes it hurts, but it’s something you have to consciously and purposefully work towards.”
Finn doesn’t really know what to say or even how to react – but it’s hard to feel those shadowed memories in this place of healing.
He wants to try, too.
[---]
Kix watches Finn’s progress quietly, without comment. The kid watches him as he moves through the greenhouse, clipping here, trimming there, watering and fertilizing, giving each plant individualized attention, and on the third day Kix sees the realization in Finn’s eyes. This space grows, it blooms under careful care – and it’s like to return the favor.
The pride and joy Kix felt when the first plant sprouted under his careful attention had nearly made him weep with joy. Now that same plant – candlewick flowers, native to Alderaan – flourishes over three trellises, lighting up the greenhouse at night with their soft orange glow. He still feels an immense pride in his chest when he looks at it.
When the pepper plant’s leaves started to pick up, when the gloss returned to its broad leaves and bright peppers, Kix smiles when he sees the same look in Finn’s eyes.
[---]
Finn’s a fast learner. Soon he knows the names – scientific and common – of most every plant in the greenhouse, knows the myriad uses of the various medicinal plants Kix has carefully cultivated over the past few years. Kix lets him help in the medbay, too – Finn’s just as gentle and patient with plants as he is with living beings. Finn delivers a bundle of fresh herbs to the mess, ones that he carefully clipped himself, and though Kix knows the nightmares haven’t stopped, they have relented a little.
And little by little, the bags under Finn’s eyes disappear.
Sometimes it strikes him as funny: two soldiers trained from birth, both without an option otherwise, both now permanently removed from anyone who shared that experience, now carefully squatting next to a stubborn branch of a tiny fruit tree no taller than their calves, debating which method would be best for removing the growth.
Hardcase and Fives probably would have laughed, too – and then that familiar pain wells up in his chest again, though this time he’s not alone. Finn catches his eye when Kix falls silent, and gives him an understanding, patient nod.
The moment passes, and they decide to trim it as minimally as possible.
[---]
It takes another week, but then it blooms its first pale cream flower, and Finn takes half a dozen proud pictures of it. He asks if he can show Rey, when she gets back with Luke Skywalker.
Kix almost finches again at that familiar name, but smiles warmly and nods. He wouldn’t mind sitting with Luke while Finn shows Rey their work. And he knows that General Organa has been keeping careful note of Finn’s progress; Kix sometimes aches to tell her how much she reminds him of her father, but he knows that that’s a painful sore for her, and so keeps it to himself. If Finn wants, Kix knows, Leia will take him on as her Padawan, as her brother has taken on Rey. Kix has a lot of questions for Luke.
He takes a deep breath of the warm, sweet air of the soldier’s gardens, his scarred hands gently examining a rose bush for sickness. Finn’s close by, working on a graft for one of the fruit trees, and next to him is a small clipping of flowers that he wants to try and draw.
Two soldiers, separated from their kin, but growing – healing – together, is a miracle unto itself.