Archive: SWAL, WWOMB
Category: POV
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. I own this.
Pairing: Lu/W
Rating: PG
Series: Sequel to I Caught A Falling Star.
Summary: Wedge's thoughts the morning after.
I woke up wrapped around Luke Skywalker. Well. I didn't think I'd had that much to drink, but--
What the hell. I hadn't had that much to drink. I'd wanted him, he'd wanted me--simple.
Simple, hell.
I'd told him I loved him. Which was true. I don't lie, even when I'm feeling so damn good from sex that--well, I know what some people say before and during and after, and I think it's an underhanded trick.
I hope Luke meant it when he said he loved me. I'd hate to think he's one of them.
I remember the first time I saw him, dirty and tired and obviously hurting like hell, and I assigned him status as some random kid, probably a mercenary or smuggler brat.
The next time I saw him, he was cleaned up and rested, and he smiled at me and introduced himself as Luke Skywalker. That name rang a bell, somewhere, but I couldn't place it until he'd already walked away to talk to the General.
That skinny blond kid was the one Biggs Darklighter had told me about when we were out on patrol. It gets lonely out there, and you talk, just to hear something. Biggs's voice had been tinny through the mic as he told me about Tatooine and about Luke. "His uncle won't let him go to the Academy, and it's a damn shame. He's...Wedge, you should see him fly. The Hutt were always trying to get him into the pod races, but his uncle wouldn't allow that, either."
"Humans don't race pods," I'd said, and Biggs had laughed.
"Skywalkers do," he'd said. "My grandfather says he remembers Luke's father racing them. Said he saw this race on Boonta Eve once...well. Luke's good. Really good. Better than I am, and I was in the top ten of my Academy class."
I'd laughed at him then, teased him about having a crush on his friend, and he'd told me that if I ever saw Luke fly, I'd understand.
And in that assault on the Death Star, I'd seen what Biggs had meant. Luke had a level of control and skill that should not have been possible in an unfamiliar craft. He kept panic out of his voice more often than I'd been able to on my first flight, let alone my first battle. He could fly in formation, dammit, and that's something that takes hours and hours of flight time to learn--
When he took control of the survivors and brought us down into the trench, I knew that he was something very special indeed. What made me call an untrained, untried kid "boss"? What made me follow him?
What made me sleep with him last night?
Like his sister--can hardly believe that, Leia's his damn sister--he leads as naturally as he breathes. But then...maybe they both got it from him. Vader. I imagine farming on Tatooine doesn't hone one's leadership skills the way being the adopted daughter of Bail Organa does.
Then again, if Vader was from Tatooine, maybe there's something to the place after all.
Best not to think about that too much. It's hard enough to realize that we were fighting a family war, here. That two of our leaders, our heroes, were attempting patricide with every battle we fought. That the galaxy spun on the hinge of the Skywalker family, and that it would continue to do so.
Well. Maybe the Empire had won after all. Or if not the Empire, Vader--if Luke is telling the truth, and Vader killed the Emperor, anything is possible.
Luke stirred in his sleep and reached out one hand towards his lightsaber. "Master," he said, "Master, don't leave me." He trembled for a moment and I watched the muscles jump under his skin. "Master..."
I wondered who he was dreaming of. Leia'd told me he'd been with General Kenobi, but I'd never heard Luke call him "master". "Old Ben," sometimes, or simply "Ben." Not that Luke spoke of him often, but...Luke didn't seem to honor one of the most famous generals of all time as the rest of us did.
I wondered who had trained him, if not General Kenobi. Everyone thought the General had been the last of the Jedi, but Luke had told me last night he'd left his master. And I knew as well as anyone that the General had died on the first Death Star, leaving Luke a barely-trained, Force-sensitive, loose cannon.
Though from what I've heard, General Kenobi was something of a loose cannon himself, and his own master before him, if the stories my father used to tell are even half-true.
"Master," Luke called again, and I flinched. The love in his voice was unmistakeable, and I didn't want him to love anyone else.
He was trembling again, and then he stilled, so suddenly I was frightened. "Sleep you will," an unfamiliar voice said, and I whirled, looking for the source, but there was no one there.
"Hell," I whispered.
"Yes, son of Skywalker, sleep," the voice said, and Luke began to breathe deeply. I sat down next to him, not sure what else to do. "Worry not, young pilot. Needs you, he does."
"Who are you?" I asked, but there was no answer.
After a few minutes, I shifted to lie beside him and wrapped my arms around him. He sighed and moved closer to me, and I knew--
Knew why I'd slept with him, and why I'd followed him that first time, and why I would follow him the rest of my life, to hell and back a thousand times if I had to.
My father used to tell me that the Jedi were very big on destiny. I'd known, from the moment I saw him fly, that Luke Skywalker was my destiny.