Author's Note: Written for the second DownTime challenge which continued in the angst: "Tycho's a Lusankya agent so go have him kill Wedge, Wes, or Hobbie." More fun.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
That's the only sound he can hear. He doesn't know what it is, but it echoes in his mind.
The sound is slowly driving him mad. He does not sleep. He barely eats. He wanders around like a man disturbed by spirits. He is a haunted man.
He cannot run, he cannot hide. He cannot whisper, he cannot scream.
There is no one there to hear him.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
He watches her silently, desperately wanting to tell her what is wrong, to find out what plagues his troubled mind. But will she understand? Or will she leave him out in the cold, abandoned and alone?
Drip. Drip. Drip.
He would give anything he owns to be rid of this torture in his mind, but he cannot buy his freedom, nothing can. No one can free him but the one who made him this way. But he will not go near her again if he can help it. The flame and ice within her gaze are both frightening and infuriating.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
He stands up from his bed once she leaves and walks silently over to the dresser. His reflection stares back at him blankly. Or at least it looks like his reflection. He no longer can recognize the man in the mirror.
Lifting up the blaster set on there, he absently switches the power setting to kill.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Silently, he walks through the halls, ignoring the greetings that fellow pilots give him. Their words and gestures are meaningless now. He walks straight toward the Commander's office and enters without knocking.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The door stays open behind him.
The man before him looks up. "Oh good, I was just about to comm you."
Slowly, he raises the blaster to aim it at the man's heart. "I'm sorry, Wedge."
And then he pulls the trigger.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
It's the sound of blood and water in his mind, he knows that now.
Drip. Drip. Drip.