Disclaimer: I don't own SW or the Rogues or anything related. Thanks to Luthien for helping me with this. Also, this is a work in progress still, nothing is in concrete except the basic plot idea.
Memory
"" Talking
** Thinking (since I can't get italics)
Winter's comlink beeped softly. The Alderaanian agent cursed mentally and turned it on.
"Winter," she said brusquely.
"Winter, it's Leia. I'm sorry to have to call you now, but we need your help regarding some information on Commenor."
"I'll be there right away."
"Thank you," Leia said. Winter turned off her comlink. Of course she'd be there right away. She'd do her job- as she always had. And she wouldn't let anything as small as relationships get in the way. She kissed her living (so far) and breathing (ditto) piece of Alderaan- also known as Tycho Celchu. "I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise." She hit a button on her comlink. "Wedge?"
"Winter? Any-"
"No, but I've been called away, I don't know how long I'll be gone. Would you mind-"
"Not at all."
"Winter out."
Wedge made his way through the white and antiseptic-clean corridors. Ever since he was a kid, he'd never really liked med-centers, no reason he could explain- and it hadn't disappeared as he grew. He did not think of that now. Finally he came to the right door. There was a quick retina scan and it opened. Wedge stepped in and sat down on the convenient chair next to the bed. He'd gotten into a sort of routine by now. He opened his duffel and took out some datapads and began the endless, usually mindless process of 'read this memo, check this schematic, deny/approve that leave pass,' that went with managing Rogue Squadron.
"You know, I haven't forgiven you for leaving me with all this paperwork," Wedge said- quite seriously to the all but motionless form on the bed. "And the least Wes could have done was help me out, but no. He has a date tonight. He had a date last night. I think he's fully booked for about two weeks." The life monitor blipped softly and regularly, but other than that, the room was quiet. Some nights he'd been here, Wedge had suddenly woken up in a panic and all but held his breath to reassure himself that Tycho was still breathing. It was stupid he knew, the monitors would tell him- loudly. He shook his head as if to clear it from such thoughts, as if he was afraid of jinxing the fact that his second in command was still alive.
"I'm going to have to cancel some of his leave passes. It's like he has an endless supply of them hidden somewhere. It's not that I'm a mean overbearing commander- about canceling his leave passes I mean- it's just that stupid stunt with the water over the door? He did it again and right now I'm not feeling creative enough to get him back in a more roundabout way. Maybe I'm overreacting. After all, it's been too long since we've had a quiet stretch like this. But honestly, there are some days when I feel I'm managing a squadron of two-year-olds." You can always manage them though, when I run out of patience, Wedge thought. "You'd better wake up soon or you may find out that when you do wake up, you're in command, your senior officer has been put in the nightmare room where all the TIEs have shields, the X-wings don't and all the datapads and windows are out to get me." Wedge smiled at the thought. If that was going to happen, it would have happened long ago. He was pretty sure anyway. He sighed. The em-dees said that talking never hurt and supposedly in some cases it helped- but it was lonely. Only your own voice, very quiet breathing and those infernal blipping monitors. Wedge went back to his paperwork.
Finally though, he quit. He was bored and tired. He should have brought the datapad with his holochess program on it. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, thinking of the events from about a month ago to the present.
***********
They had returned from a successful mission and were almost immediately sent off again on another mission, this time to the remote world of Varsean to combat an imperial takeover attempt. It was only a small group of Rogues, himself, Tycho, Wes, Hobbie and the ex-Rogue who had come out of semi-retirement for this mission: Plourr Illo, Princess of Eaitu. Plourr advised the Varseanian monarchy's ground troops and the other Rogues flew air support.
"Two here, five TIEs on me. A little help?" Wedge glanced over at his wingman's craft, but knew he could do nothing, engaged as he was with a AT-AT. Wes moved in to help.
"Two break port!" Wes told the Alderaannian. Tycho did so- and a burst of heavy fire from a previously unseen position hit his X-wing, taking out the shields and badly damaging the lower left wing section. "I'm hit and will try to make a landing." Tycho said, sounding calm through the static.
"Two, eject." Rogue Four-Hobbie, said quickly.
Something in his voice made Wedge look over at his wingman's craft again. Tycho had taken another hit and had apparently lost or damaged his R-4.
"Leader here, get out Two!" He said sharply. Tycho was an excellent pilot, but even if he managed to land the damaged X-wing it might explode on landing or be shot to pieces by the enemy.
"I can land it." Tycho said, still perfectly calm and determined to do what he said he would. It was not bravado or overconfidence, it was simply Tycho saying that he was perfectly able to land his craft. A burst of fire rocked Wedge's shields and he tore his eyes away from Tycho and concentrated on torping the AT-AT. He did it. Hobbie got the emplacement that had hit Tycho and Wes had cleaned up the TIEs.
"Air secure," Wedge said. "Where's Two?"
"He- landed." Hobbie said.
"We'll send him a ride," Wedge said. He'll be fine. Somehow, Wedge wasn't convinced. He would have felt better if he had seen his wingman alive and standing a distance away from the X-wing.
The remaining three X-wings landed safely back at base. Wedge jumped down without bothering to wait for a ladder and went with the others to debrief. Ten minutes later an emergency vehicle whizzed past the building. Wedge continued the debriefing feeling more than slightly distracted. As quickly as possible- as though by mutual consensus- though no one had said a word- all three pilots ended up walking-rather quickly- to the med-center. Plourr was already there. The news was not good. Somehow, Wedge hadn't expected it to be. Tycho had been badly injured in the landing-more like crashing, he had several large burn areas, broken ribs and a broken arm. He'd be in bacta for a while. But that wasn't all. In the course of the landing, he hit his head very hard. If he hadn't been wearing his helmet, he wouldn't have survived. As it was, brain damage was not a maybe but a definite- only time would tell the complete extent. He might never walk, talk, or fly again. Or on the other hand, the em-dee had pointed out, it might not be that serious. Maybe he would have partial deafness or a slower reaction time-, both of which were not good in a fighter pilot. In the meantime, the em-dee assured them that Tycho would have the best care possible. He would not be allowed to have visitors for three days.
Feeling very sobered, the remaining Rogues returned to their quarters.
Operations on Varsean were soon complete, they succeeded in forcing a Imperial surrender. Tycho had still not regained consciousness. Every time they got the chance, at least one of the Rogues stayed with him. At first the med-center staff had protested, but soon grudgingly accepted the fact that they might stumble across a pilot sleeping in a visitor's chair or wandering about the corridors for a few minutes around three AM trying to find the right room (Janson with a bad case of insomnia).
Finally it was time to leave Varsean and Tycho was transferred to a med-center on the New Republic-friendly world of Seyori where Rogue Squadron was currently stationed. Some people started making noises about Tycho being kept on life support, but Wedge and the rest of the Rogues were adamant. He was not braindead and he was not totally dependent on the life support system, he could still breathe on his own. Since Tycho had designated Wedge and Winter to look out for him in case of this or a similar situation and since Plourr insisted on paying for private care, their word was law.
*************
A slightly louder than normal blip startled Wedge who looked over at Tycho. Tycho opened his eyes. "Tycho!" Wedge smiled.
Tycho frowned. "Who?"
"Oh no..."
Memory
"" Talking
** Thinking (since I can't get italics)
Winter's comlink beeped softly. The Alderaanian agent cursed mentally and turned it on.
"Winter," she said brusquely.
"Winter, it's Leia. I'm sorry to have to call you now, but we need your help regarding some information on Commenor."
"I'll be there right away."
"Thank you," Leia said. Winter turned off her comlink. Of course she'd be there right away. She'd do her job- as she always had. And she wouldn't let anything as small as relationships get in the way. She kissed her living (so far) and breathing (ditto) piece of Alderaan- also known as Tycho Celchu. "I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise." She hit a button on her comlink. "Wedge?"
"Winter? Any-"
"No, but I've been called away, I don't know how long I'll be gone. Would you mind-"
"Not at all."
"Winter out."
Wedge made his way through the white and antiseptic-clean corridors. Ever since he was a kid, he'd never really liked med-centers, no reason he could explain- and it hadn't disappeared as he grew. He did not think of that now. Finally he came to the right door. There was a quick retina scan and it opened. Wedge stepped in and sat down on the convenient chair next to the bed. He'd gotten into a sort of routine by now. He opened his duffel and took out some datapads and began the endless, usually mindless process of 'read this memo, check this schematic, deny/approve that leave pass,' that went with managing Rogue Squadron.
"You know, I haven't forgiven you for leaving me with all this paperwork," Wedge said- quite seriously to the all but motionless form on the bed. "And the least Wes could have done was help me out, but no. He has a date tonight. He had a date last night. I think he's fully booked for about two weeks." The life monitor blipped softly and regularly, but other than that, the room was quiet. Some nights he'd been here, Wedge had suddenly woken up in a panic and all but held his breath to reassure himself that Tycho was still breathing. It was stupid he knew, the monitors would tell him- loudly. He shook his head as if to clear it from such thoughts, as if he was afraid of jinxing the fact that his second in command was still alive.
"I'm going to have to cancel some of his leave passes. It's like he has an endless supply of them hidden somewhere. It's not that I'm a mean overbearing commander- about canceling his leave passes I mean- it's just that stupid stunt with the water over the door? He did it again and right now I'm not feeling creative enough to get him back in a more roundabout way. Maybe I'm overreacting. After all, it's been too long since we've had a quiet stretch like this. But honestly, there are some days when I feel I'm managing a squadron of two-year-olds." You can always manage them though, when I run out of patience, Wedge thought. "You'd better wake up soon or you may find out that when you do wake up, you're in command, your senior officer has been put in the nightmare room where all the TIEs have shields, the X-wings don't and all the datapads and windows are out to get me." Wedge smiled at the thought. If that was going to happen, it would have happened long ago. He was pretty sure anyway. He sighed. The em-dees said that talking never hurt and supposedly in some cases it helped- but it was lonely. Only your own voice, very quiet breathing and those infernal blipping monitors. Wedge went back to his paperwork.
Finally though, he quit. He was bored and tired. He should have brought the datapad with his holochess program on it. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, thinking of the events from about a month ago to the present.
***********
They had returned from a successful mission and were almost immediately sent off again on another mission, this time to the remote world of Varsean to combat an imperial takeover attempt. It was only a small group of Rogues, himself, Tycho, Wes, Hobbie and the ex-Rogue who had come out of semi-retirement for this mission: Plourr Illo, Princess of Eaitu. Plourr advised the Varseanian monarchy's ground troops and the other Rogues flew air support.
"Two here, five TIEs on me. A little help?" Wedge glanced over at his wingman's craft, but knew he could do nothing, engaged as he was with a AT-AT. Wes moved in to help.
"Two break port!" Wes told the Alderaannian. Tycho did so- and a burst of heavy fire from a previously unseen position hit his X-wing, taking out the shields and badly damaging the lower left wing section. "I'm hit and will try to make a landing." Tycho said, sounding calm through the static.
"Two, eject." Rogue Four-Hobbie, said quickly.
Something in his voice made Wedge look over at his wingman's craft again. Tycho had taken another hit and had apparently lost or damaged his R-4.
"Leader here, get out Two!" He said sharply. Tycho was an excellent pilot, but even if he managed to land the damaged X-wing it might explode on landing or be shot to pieces by the enemy.
"I can land it." Tycho said, still perfectly calm and determined to do what he said he would. It was not bravado or overconfidence, it was simply Tycho saying that he was perfectly able to land his craft. A burst of fire rocked Wedge's shields and he tore his eyes away from Tycho and concentrated on torping the AT-AT. He did it. Hobbie got the emplacement that had hit Tycho and Wes had cleaned up the TIEs.
"Air secure," Wedge said. "Where's Two?"
"He- landed." Hobbie said.
"We'll send him a ride," Wedge said. He'll be fine. Somehow, Wedge wasn't convinced. He would have felt better if he had seen his wingman alive and standing a distance away from the X-wing.
The remaining three X-wings landed safely back at base. Wedge jumped down without bothering to wait for a ladder and went with the others to debrief. Ten minutes later an emergency vehicle whizzed past the building. Wedge continued the debriefing feeling more than slightly distracted. As quickly as possible- as though by mutual consensus- though no one had said a word- all three pilots ended up walking-rather quickly- to the med-center. Plourr was already there. The news was not good. Somehow, Wedge hadn't expected it to be. Tycho had been badly injured in the landing-more like crashing, he had several large burn areas, broken ribs and a broken arm. He'd be in bacta for a while. But that wasn't all. In the course of the landing, he hit his head very hard. If he hadn't been wearing his helmet, he wouldn't have survived. As it was, brain damage was not a maybe but a definite- only time would tell the complete extent. He might never walk, talk, or fly again. Or on the other hand, the em-dee had pointed out, it might not be that serious. Maybe he would have partial deafness or a slower reaction time-, both of which were not good in a fighter pilot. In the meantime, the em-dee assured them that Tycho would have the best care possible. He would not be allowed to have visitors for three days.
Feeling very sobered, the remaining Rogues returned to their quarters.
Operations on Varsean were soon complete, they succeeded in forcing a Imperial surrender. Tycho had still not regained consciousness. Every time they got the chance, at least one of the Rogues stayed with him. At first the med-center staff had protested, but soon grudgingly accepted the fact that they might stumble across a pilot sleeping in a visitor's chair or wandering about the corridors for a few minutes around three AM trying to find the right room (Janson with a bad case of insomnia).
Finally it was time to leave Varsean and Tycho was transferred to a med-center on the New Republic-friendly world of Seyori where Rogue Squadron was currently stationed. Some people started making noises about Tycho being kept on life support, but Wedge and the rest of the Rogues were adamant. He was not braindead and he was not totally dependent on the life support system, he could still breathe on his own. Since Tycho had designated Wedge and Winter to look out for him in case of this or a similar situation and since Plourr insisted on paying for private care, their word was law.
*************
A slightly louder than normal blip startled Wedge who looked over at Tycho. Tycho opened his eyes. "Tycho!" Wedge smiled.
Tycho frowned. "Who?"
"Oh no..."