STAR WARS IMAGINES

finn | he'd follow her anywhere

it's my first day of vacation! yay! here's a rewrite for y'all before i start publishing the requests :-) 1.6k words

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FN-2187 flinched as he watched the young stormtrooper get knocked on his back. The two heavy-armored soldiers --- the two scary guys that loyally stuck by Captain Phasma's side at all times and carried blasters bigger than their torsos --- dropped down on the ground and pounded him with their fists and the end of their blasters.

It pained him to hear the soft grunts and burst of sobs coming out of the soldier's mouth. He had stepped out of line, made a target of himself. He wasn't capable of fitting into the mold the First Order was creating their soldiers in. But as much as it pained him, FN-2187 had to remain perfectly still. He had to pretend it didn't bother him that this was happening, just as everyone else was pretending---

Or maybe they weren't pretending. Maybe he was the only one bothered by this torture. The only flaw in the system. 

The beating stopped abruptly, and the weak stormtrooper began to stand up. The armor was dented and marked up. When the soldier got to his feet, legs shaking, one of the officers brought the back end of his gun down on him again, knocking him to his stomach hard. 

The force of the hit knocked the dented helmet off of his --- no, off of her head.

Her. 

It was a girl, laying there on the ground, hair falling out of the tie that held it all at the back of her neck. She gasped for air, blinked hard, and swiped her hand forward to grab her helmet. Moving to rest on her knees, she glared at the officers standing over her before fitting her helmet back on. They didn't seem bothered by the glare of pure hate and anger from her. Instead, the superiors made a comment to her that made FN-2187's stomach clench.

No one else paid any mind. No one except for FN-2187.

"Perhaps now you'll learn not to fall out of line," Phasma said impatiently.

"Yes, Captain," the girl replied. 

Phasma turned to the rest of the troops. "On my command, file out behind me." 

He stepped with the group. He held his blaster perfectly, placed his feet in the places they told him to, focused straight ahead like he was commanded to do. He was trained for this, he repeated to himself. He was trained for this. 

But inside, he was screaming. He was in way over his head. He couldn't kill people. He couldn't be a stormtrooper. He couldn't even stand to watch a fellow soldier get reprimanded for stepping out of line. 

So when the group started to file out, FN-2187 decided abruptly to make a move. He disobeyed his direct orders and fell behind. He took the back of the line, pausing to rush to the girl, who was standing up and gathering her strength in the back of the formation. He cupped her elbow and she nearly punched him until she heard his soft whisper.

"Are you alright, miss?"

She hesitated before replying. "I'm fine." She pulled her elbow back and picked up her gun. 

"I'm sorry they did this to you." 

"Sorry?" she questioned in disbelief. She scoffed. "This is life. Who are you, soldier?" 

"FN-2187," he said, "and I am sorry. And I know you are too when you see people like us get beaten. I don't even need to see past that helmet to know. I could tell when they knocked your helmet off that you don't want to fight for them like the rest of them do."

She hesitated again. "No, I don't. But we don't get much choice in the matter, do we?" 

"No," he said, "we don't."