Archive: Anywhere. Email forwarding is OK.
Archive Date: February 12, 2001
Author's Webpage: http://come.to/prillalar
Disclaimer: SW belongs to George Lucas, not me. I do not
profit in any way by this story.
Feedback: Yes, any and all comments welcome.
Notes: TIMEFRAME: ESB. Hoth. Follows directly from White Night.
Pairing: L/W
Rating: R for M/M sexual situations
Spoilers: ESB
Summary: Luke/Wedge. Time to leave.
I didn't find Luke. Someone else did, someone else flew him back. I turned around as soon as I got the call. When I got back, he was already in the bacta.
In the hallway, I passed Solo, tried to thank him, but he just shrugged it off and walked away. I don't think he knew who I was. I don't think that was necessarily a bad thing. And I wasn't as grateful to him as I should have been. Anyway, I forgot him as soon as I turned the corner into the med lab. There was Luke. Alive.
I put my hand on the tank, felt the warmth. Last night and this morning, I thought there would be a moment when I could hold his hand and tell him everything would be all right. And it would be all right, but too late now for me to be the one to say so.
My knees buckled and I caught myself, both hands against the tank now. I was shaking a little. Pressing my forehead to the glass, I tried to send my thoughts into his brain. Everything will be all right, Luke. Come back to me, Luke. And then I remembered I was a rebel pilot and he was alive, anyhow, and people were starting to stare.
So I left, ate something tasteless, then went back to our quarters and slept for ten hours straight. And that's how I missed being there when they pulled him out.
I woke up when the door opened. It was dark, but I knew it was him, silhouetted against the yellow glare of the hall. He didn't put on the light, just came over to the bunk.
"Luke." I didn't know what to say to him or how to say it. How to tell him I wasn't the unfeeling bastard I looked like right then. "Dammit, Luke."
He didn't say anything and I couldn't see his face. But I moved over and he lay down beside me and I put my arms around him. He smelled like bacta, harsh and over-clean. I tasted the skin behind his ear and it was astringent in my mouth.
He held on to me, body rigid for a minute, then relaxed. "Wedge." He sighed and his breath tickled my neck.
I guess he didn't know what to say either.
So we touched each other, in the small ways that lovers come to know. My fingers in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. His knee between my thighs. My forehead to his. His lips on the corner of my mouth. His palms over my belly, under my shirt. Pulling it up, pulling it off.
I thought about protesting, telling him we shouldn't, not so soon. For about two seconds, then I struggled with him, out of our tangled clothes, trying to stay under the blankets. Sex on Hoth was always a challenge.
We were naked, finally, except for a stray sock or so. I tried to be gentle but Luke wouldn't let me. He was wilder than he'd ever been. Harder. Almost dying will do that to a man, I guess. He bit my chest and I knew I'd have a bruise there later. I didn't bite back. He probably had enough bruises already.
He touched nearly every inch of my body, I think, hands over my calves, cheek along my sides. Mouth everywhere and I wasn't complaining. I held on, kissing him and trying to tell where he was hurt. I could feel his heart beating.
And then he fucked me, so hard I almost told him to slow down. His fingers gripped my arms and I wondered if they'd be livid too. We took it to the edge, to that one disorienting moment, like the shift to lightspeed. I'm sure that they could hear us in the hall.
When we were done, I turned on the light and looked at him. His face had been hurt, nose broken. Not so pretty any more. I liked it. "Good to see you, Hotshot."
He smiled at me and that was just the same. "Good to see you too." He brushed my hair back from my forehead. "Wedge, I want--"
And the evac call came, too loud to talk over, too urgent to ignore.
"Later," I said. He closed his eyes and kissed me. We dressed and went to report for duty.
And duty there was. We packed, we fixed, we fetched, we carried. We yelled. Were yelled at. We suited up and we flew. We fought. We killed. We didn't die. It was exhilarating.
It was time to leave the planet. I landed my speeder and got out, wading through the drifts. Looked for Luke. Saw him heading to his ship.
Alive. Both of us. I wanted to run to him, wrap my arms around him, kiss him in the snow while the blasts exploded around us, like lovers in a vid. But that's a good way to get yourself killed, so I just waved at him and yelled. "Good luck, Luke. See you at the rendezvous."
He waved back and I got into my ship and took off. I made it to the checkpoint.
He never came.
My bruises faded.