Title: Remembered

Title: Remembered

Author: Figlia Della Musica

Summary: At the funeral of his bondmate, Wedge reflects back on a lifetime.

Warnings: non-explicit slash, hanky

Archive: SWA-L, anywhere else sure but just ask me first

Author's comments: The quote that starts this off I found in a magazine, on one of those stones you can have set in your garden.  This fic immediately hopped into my mind.  I normally don't write death fics, but I couldn't help it.

"If tears could build a stairway,

And memories a lane,

I'd walk right up to heaven,

And bring you home again."

            Wedge stood alone at the funeral.  It wasn't that there weren't other people there—there were many.  The funeral of one of the Rebellion's greatest heroes meant that there were scores of people there.  But everyone was giving that hero's bondmate a clear space.  They shot him covert glances, when they thought he wasn't looking.  They tried, mentally, to gauge how well he was doing, without his mate.

            Luke lay in the casket, arms folded, looking serene.  Death gave him youth again, wiped away lines of care, worry, and time.  It gave lie to his silver hair.  Luke, lying dead in the casket, looked beautiful.  His face held dignity, befitting the greatest Jedi Master, and the black clothes he'd always worn gave him an air of solemnity. 

            The black clothes that Wedge now wore, too, echoing the loss of his bondmate.  He ran his fingers through hair that was nearly as silver as Luke's, and remembered the past.

            Remembered the first time Luke had said, "I love you."  It had been after Endor, right after, with the Death Star's grave glowing in the sky, when Luke had walked out of the darkness grinning but looking like he was about to collapse. 

            Remembered too, when they'd been bonded, the glow of love in Luke's eyes, the joy in his voice as he spoke.  "I, Luke Skywalker, take you, Wedge Antilles, as bondmate, in my heart and in my soul, forever."

            Remembered the times Leia's kids would come to visit, shouting, "Uncle Luke!  Uncle Wedge!"  Luke had always loved children, but the two of them had never gotten around to adopting a child, though they'd talked about it.

            Remembered when Luke started teaching Jedi.  Wedge, not having any Force abilities, had felt like a fifth wheel for a while, until the Academy had started bringing in younger students, children of the first ones, students who needed to learn skills other than Jedi ones. Wedge had started teaching then, too, teaching young students to fly.  It was a way to stay in the air, and get out of the military.  He'd been glad to tender his resignation.  It gave him more time with Luke.

            And now Luke was dead.  They were both old—well over one hundred years, in fact—and they'd led long, full, happy lives, but Luke's loss was a sharp pain.

            The Jedi performing the service—one of Luke's earliest students, and now a Jedi Master in his own right—finished speaking.  The coffin was closed and lowered into the ground, next to Leia's. 

            Wedge stared at the grave marker as though it was his personal enemy. 

Luke Skywalker

Jedi Master

b. 10 Jurek, BY 18  d. 18 Juils, AY 104

A hero, a Jedi, a loving bondmate and a good man.

May he find a home in the heart of the Force.

Wedge stood by the grave a long time, as one by one the other mourners straggled out.  Finally, with darkness falling, he began the long walk out of the cemetery, back to the lonely little house by the waterfall, the house he and Luke had built, the one with the beautiful view of the Academy buildings.  Entering the house, he smiled at a picture, an old-fashioned oil painting one of the students had done.  In it, he and Luke, both much younger, stood in front of their newly-completed house.  Luke's smile was open, sunny, and beautiful.  Wedge smiled at the painting-Luke. 

"Wait for me, love," he whispered.  "I'll not be long."

He settled down to wait his time out.  Several of his great-nephews and great-nieces—Leia's grandchildren, themselves well into middle age—came every now and then, to look in on him and make sure he was okay.  They were patient, sitting around and letting him talk about Luke endlessly, but he felt like a burden on their hands.

So it was with relief that, two weeks after the funeral, he awoke to see Luke standing before him, outlined with a blue light.

"Wedge," Luke said softly, "it's time, love.  Come with me."  He held out a hand.

"I've been waiting," Wedge replied.  He reached out to take Luke's hand, and Luke pulled him out of the chair.  For a moment, Wedge turned around to see himself, still asleep in his chair facing the oil painting.  Then he looked down at the hand Luke had grasped.  It was outlined in the same blue light as Luke.

"Yes," Luke said to him.  "To their eyes, you're dead now.  They'll come in, the next time they visit, and find you there."

Wedge smiled, and touched Luke's cheek, gently, the expression in their old language of touch and caress that meant love.  "I hope they'll understand," he said softly, "and not cry.  I wasn't happy, without you."

"I was a bit lonely, myself," Luke replied, returning the gesture.  "Come on."

Together, hand in hand, they walked towards the heart of the Force.

***

It's said, at the Jedi Academy, that a student will know if he is destined for greatness.  When he is being knighted, two men will appear at the end of the Great Hall, outlined in blue.  Their faces will match the portraits above the dais, the portraits of the Academy's founder and his bondmate.  The two men won't say anything, but they'll smile.  And, with their arms still linked, they'll disappear.