Ambiance: Some covers of "I Will Survive", most notably by Cake.
"I should have changed my fucking lock, I would have made you
leave your key..."
Archive: Anywhere. Email forwarding is OK.
Archive Date: February 27, 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.
Pairing: Luke/Wedge
Rating: PG-13
Summary: There and back again.
Timeframe: ESB. How long Luke spent on Dagobah is a subject of
much debate as it's unclear from the movie. For the purposes of
this series, I've assumed it to be six months.
She kissed me and the klaxons sounded. I had her jacket half off her shoulders before I heard them.
"Why'd you call a drill, Antilles?"
I looked at Kayla, she looked at me, and then we ran.
Her wing was in the air first. She was a damn good pilot -- better than me, probably -- a good commander, and a good afternoon friend. Her place, not mine, and it was always fun. No one had any credits left to gamble, so we had to amuse ourselves somehow.
"Unidentified vessel approaching." Kayla's words popped a little through my headset. The techs were always tinkering with our comm system and half the time it didn't work so well. "You go get them; we'll cover you."
"Copy that." I signalled my wing and we went to see. The ship was coming in fast, whoever she was. And I was beginning to worry, just a bit. We should have had the codes from them by now. I switched to broadband. "Identify yourself."
Before I got an answer, we made visual. The Falcon. Solo was back. Bastard.
But the voice that crackled back at me was one I didn't recognise. "Lando Calrissian, trying to make contact with the Rebellion."
I told him to hold and tried to think. "Kayla, you heard of this Calrissian before?"
"Not me. HQ doesn't know him either."
Great. I directed two of my ships to fly escort and sent a new heading over to the Falcon, out beyond the fleet, just in case.
Then another voice came over the comm. This one I definitely recognised and I sat up a little straighter before I could stop myself. When the Princess was angry, nobody wanted to get in the way. We brought the Falcon in and let her dock.
Maybe there was still time to catch Kayla before the afternoon was gone. I jogged through the hangar, slowing a little to look over the Falcon as I passed. Security was meeting them: the Wookiee, a man I didn't recognise -- Calrissian, probably. The Princess was coming down the ramp, supporting someone else, another man.
Luke bloody Skywalker.
I stopped, I think. Stared at him as he looked up at me. Pulled off my helmet. Felt like I was drowning, cold water pulling me down. He smiled at me.
"I thought you were dead," I said and walked away.
I was in my quarters. I don't remember going through the corridor. By then, the news must have spread through the fleet. Good news travelled fast; we had so little of it.
Good news shouldn't make your stomach hurt. Mine was acid. I'd had six months to deal, but I hadn't expected to deal with this.
So I didn't. I went to the weight room and pushed. Went to the mess and didn't eat. Went to Kayla's and fucked her with the lights off. Went to the head and showered. Back to my quarters and turned the pages of a book. I punched the wall. The neighbours banged back.
I should have been glad he'd escaped from wherever they'd been holding him. Glad for him, glad for the Rebellion, glad for me. I pulled out the bottle -- still a few drinks left. It didn't help my stomach, but it helped the rest of me.
The door opened. It was Luke.
I put the bottle away and stood in the middle of the room.
"Can I stay here?" He didn't look so good. Pale, bandaged. Shit, his hand. He saw me staring. "They're making me a new one."
I nodded. "No one else will sleep here." He walked in. "So, let's have the story. How did you get away?" He probably wanted to sit down, but I kept standing.
"From Bespin?"
"That's where the prison was?"
"Prison?"
I stepped closer. His eyes were bloodshot. He was cradling his right arm. "The Empire. Kept you prisoner. For six months."
"No, I've been on this planet, in this big swamp. Training -- Jedi training." His eyes lit up and the pain disappeared from them. "With an old Jedi Master. Wedge, you wouldn't believe it. I can--"
I hit him in the face.
He staggered back, arms flung out, reaching for me with the hand that wasn't there.
I didn't care. "You bastard." I raised my hand again, then let it drop. "I thought you were dead."
He stared at me, touched his face, closed his eyes. I counted five before he opened them. "I deserved that," he said and then he crumpled.
This just kept getting better. I managed to catch him and laid him down on my bunk. He was still conscious. "Stay still, Luke. I'll get medical."
"No, Wedge." His fingers -- the ones that were left -- gripped my arm. "Don't."
So I didn't, even though I should have. Luke opened his mouth, like he was going to say something. And he started to cry. I've never seen anyone cry like that, not before, not since. Sobbing so hard, he was nearly retching. I didn't know what to do, so I lay down beside him and put my arms around him as best I could.
I hadn't forgotten how good that was. Luke smelled clean, safe-clean, and his body was warm. He shifted and I felt the movement under my hands. I stroked his hair, fingers circling the nape of his neck. And Luke kept crying -- for nearly an hour, I think.
When he was done, I sat him up and he blew his nose and I pressed my forehead tight to his. He didn't tell me what was wrong. He didn't tell me about the swamp. I didn't tell him about our raids, our plans. I pulled off both our boots and turned out the light and we slept, pressed close in the narrow bunk.
I woke up in the middle of the night. Luke was kissing me. I kissed him back, taking his face in both my hands. I hadn't forgotten that either. The sweetness of him. I was still angry with him, but why should that keep me from enjoying him? He was sleep-warm and the room was quiet.
After a while, he pulled back. I ran my fingers over his face. He was smiling. I smiled too and we went back to sleep.
When I opened my eyes in the morning, Luke was sitting up with my arm behind him and the arm didn't exactly wake up with the rest of me. I shook it out, trying to get rid of the needles. Luke was pretty tousled; he'd always had a very respectable bedhead.
And, like usual, I had no idea what to say to him. It was pretty simple in my brain -- short phrases like "I hate you", "I love you", "how could you do this to me?", "get out", and "never leave me again". But none of them were ready to come out yet. And hitting him again didn't really seem like a good plan.
He sort of looked like he was going to talk to me, though, and I didn't want to hear it. So I got up and stretched a little. "I'm going to the head." I ran my hand through his hair. It didn't make much difference. "Come on, you're a mess."
So he came with me. We were up a little late and no one else was there. I headed for the shower, Luke for the sink. I stopped. "You need any...?"
"I'm good, Wedge. I can do this."
And I guess he could because when I got out he was just fastening his shirt. Even his hair was wet and combed. "When do you have to get that bandage changed?"
"Not until this afternoon."
He waited for me while I dressed. "Breakfast?"
"Can it wait? I want to talk to you."
No way to avoid it, I supposed. "The mess will be open for an hour yet. Let's take a walk."
In the corridor, Luke put his arm around my shoulders and we walked, still not talking. We turned a corner and there was Kayla. One look and she knew. It hadn't exactly been a big secret before.
She reacted pretty much like I thought she would. "Skywalker, good to see you're still alive. Same for you, Antilles." She kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear. "Good luck." And then she left. Like I said, she was a good friend.
We came to a big viewport and stopped, stared out at the ships and the stars. Then Luke turned to me and I knew I couldn't get out of it.
"Wedge, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
He looked sorry. "You should be."
"Not just for leaving without telling you, but..."
This was starting to be worse than I'd thought. I looked away, out into the black.
Luke put his hand on my arm. "I wasn't fair to you before that, either."
"Do we have to have this conversation?"
"I do. I was selfish. Thinking about me, not about you."
"We're all selfish, Luke. That's the nature of a sentient being. And non-sentient beings too. It's the nature of the whole damn universe. Just shut up about this, okay?"
He sighed and his fingers tightened on my arm. "Wedge, someday this--" he gestured at the ships "--will be finished. I think it will be soon. And then..." He stopped for a moment. "Then we'll see. Until then, I can promise you two things: I won't leave without telling you and -- if I'm alive -- I'll always come back."
"You're telling me you're leaving again." I felt like something heavy was pressing on me. The darkness coming in the window.
"Yes. We have to rescue Han." And he told me the story, most of it, at least. The pain was back in his face again and I felt a surge of jealousy.
"How soon?"
"A week, I guess. That's when they'll have the prosthesis ready." His hair was drying, starting to fall down over his forehead.
"How long?"
"I don't know."
Maybe Luke could be unselfish. Not me. "Can't they do that without you? We need you here."
He shook his head. "They can't."
All that blond arrogance again. But when I looked at him, I knew that he was probably right. I hugged him, hard before I realised I should be gentle. We stood there for a long minute, arms around each other. I kissed him just behind his ear. "Luke, you should have rinsed better back here. You taste like soap."
We broke apart and he smiled at me and there was nothing I could do about it except smile back.
I punched his shoulder. "Come on, Hotshot. Let's get some breakfast."
The food was awful. I didn't care.