Archive: WAAS, SWAL, Sithchicks. Everyone else, please ask.
Archive Date: March 15, 2003
Author's Webpage: http://www.geocities.com/angelajade/index.html
Category: Vignette
Disclaimer: Luke, Wedge, and the entire SW galaxy belongs to George.
I'm not making any money from this.
Feedback: constructive criticism and general feedback very welcome. Flames laughed at.
Notes: Megathanks to Sheyla. Fanfic beta and butt-kicker extraordinaire!
Pairing: L/W
Rating: NC-17
Summary: a series of vignettes exploring a relationship between the two
greatest X-wing pilots ever. Set during the Original Trilogy.
Part Eight - Directly Before the Battle of Endor
"The Emperor has made a critical error, and the time for our attack has come."
This is it. The big one. The battle that could finish the war and defeat the Empire.
Wish you were here with me, Luke, flying on my wing. But maybe it's better you're not - I don't suppose we'll all be coming home after this mission. I have no idea where you are right now, but I hope you realize I'm thinking of you.
Leia told me what you did, how you rescued Han and escaped the Hutt. She said you were magnificent. What I wouldn't have given to see you in action.
Of course, now Han and Leia have taken on the most difficult, fool-hardy, near-suicidal... vital mission in the whole plan; taking out the shield generator. Don't give them much chance of living through it, but hopefully they'll be able to get it down long enough for us to blast that Death Star and the Emperor back to whatever hell they sprang from.
But at least you're safe. At least you're not...
...oh, shit.
Like Rebel pilot quarters the galaxy over, the room was about as sparsely furnished as possible. Two beds (one unused), two storage lockers, an information workstation - barely enough to call it home. Occupants shipped in and then shipped out again, their worldly possessions strictly limited depending on their mode of transport.
Wedge sat stiffly on the perfectly made spare bed and glared at Luke's black-clad form. "You can't be serious. You're the last Jedi in the entire galaxy - you're too valuable to risk on a mission like this."
Luke paused in unpacking his carryall, his back still towards Wedge. "I'm going where I'm needed."
"Needed?" Wedge leapt to his feet, concern and anger and fear churning inside him, turning his feelings into an emotional soup. And yet, professionalism and logic won through. "We need pilots, Commander. Especially pilots who've been up against a Death Star before."
An empty ration box bounced forcefully off the bed. "That was a low blow, Wedge."
"It's the truth. That DS might not be complete, but you can bet your last credit it'll have a whole bunch of TIEs on board. And way too many of our fighters and bombers are piloted by raw recruits who have no idea what they're getting into." Wedge reached out and brushed his fingertips over Luke's back. "Please, Luke, come with me..."
"I can't," whispered Luke, turning around and fixing Wedge with a determined look. "I have to go with Leia."
"You have to go with Leia? Leia has Han now - she doesn't need you acting like some kind of bodyguard any more."
Luke's gaze dropped to the floor. "It's... more complicated than you know."
"So enlighten me."
"I don't want to fight, Wedge. Not now. Please..."
"Don't fight me, then. Get your ass into that X-wing of yours and come with me."
"No. I have to go to Endor, to help Han and Leia and the others..."
Wedge's last scraps of patience deserted him. "It's suicide, Luke!"
"No, it's not. There's a very good chance..."
"Oh, please! You'll be quoting me the odds next!"
"Sith! What is your problem, Antilles?" Luke glared angrily. "It's war - life and death situations are our stock in trade!"
"I don't want you to go!" It wasn't until the echoes died down that Wedge realized he'd been shouting.
"Why the hell not?"
"Because I... I love you." His head dropped dejectedly and he fought the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. "I love you, dammit, and I don't want to lose you." Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and left.
Sitting in the cockpit of his X-wing, Wedge could almost convince himself it hadn't happened. Had he really just told the one person he couldn't have that he loved him? Maybe Luke would forget, maybe he hadn't even heard the words... Wedge hit his head off the back of the seat a few times in frustration. Of course he'd heard. And right now Luke was probably trying to figure out what in the galaxy he'd done to deserve the infatuation of a dumb pilot he was too busy to spend time with.
Blowing out a sigh, he picked at a loose fleck of paint on the helmet cradled in his lap. It didn't really matter. They were probably all going to be dead soon anyway.
"Red Leader." The squawk of the comm jolted him out of his reverie and almost out of his seat, his helmet thunking off the stick. A glance at the console showed the call originated from another Rebel ship. "Red Leader, report."
Puzzled, Wedge flicked the comm switch. Most of the pilots were still in their quarters making last minute preparations before they were called. No one knew Wedge was in his fighter. "This is Red Leader."
There was a short, static-filled pause. "Wedge, it's Luke."
Shit, shit, shit.
Wedge's finger hovered over the cutoff switch; he didn't think he could take any more embarrassment.
"I'm sorry, Wedge."
You're sorry? "What for?"
"For treating you like crap. For not being around. For not telling you... everything."
"Luke, you don't have to do this. I'm sorry about what I said earlier - it wasn't fair..."
"I love you, too, Wedge."
Stunned, Wedge gripped his helmet tightly and stared at the console, hardly daring to believe his ears.
"I think I've always loved you," Luke continued quietly. "I thought you knew."
"No." Relief and happiness intertwined, fusing and expanding to become soaring exhilaration as the words Wedge hadn't realized he'd been longing to hear continued to echo in his head. ...love you...
Luke's sigh hissed over the comm channel. "You mean after all this time, after all we've been through, you didn't know that I loved you?"
Wedge swallowed; suddenly the cockpit seemed to contain a lot less oxygen than it usually did. "You never said."
"I'm from Tatooine. We're not big on sentimentality."
"Oh." Thoughts tumbled over one another in Wedge's brain as his heart pummeled against his ribs. I love you. We're going to die. I have to see you... "Luke, where are you?"
"Hanger 57. I'm in the Imperial shuttle, warming up the engines. I'll... I'll be leaving when Han and the others arrive in a few minutes."
No time. There was never enough time. "Be careful, Luke. Be very, very careful."
"I will." A pause. "May the Force be with you, Wedge."
"And you. Always with you."