20
Heblon sat in a chair next to Wedge's bed. He watched as the pilot struggled through the pain that wracked his body and the fever that clouded his mind. It had been several hours since Wedge had stopped breathing and nearly died. Heblon had done everything he could to ease his suffering and break the fever, but every time they seemed to take a step forward, Wedge would take two steps back. It was as if he had given up, and his body was following his mind.
He had been through so much in the last few days that Heblon was surprised he hadn't succumbed sooner. But he was constantly amazed at the hidden reserves that Wedge had and hoped that he would continue to surprise him.
With the medical supplies that he had on hand, Heblon had done his best with little in the way of results. After much reflection, he decided to set medicine aside and try a new approach.
He had been quizzing Wedge for the last ten minutes or so, trying to draw him out. He watched as the younger man fought to find the answer to the simplest of questions. When he couldn't, he seemed to withdraw even further within himself, but Heblon kept trying.
"What's your name?"
"Please just go away," he begged in a small voice.
"What is your name?" Heblon asked again.
"No, no, no. Leave me alone." His voice cracked as he spoke, and he tried to cover his ears with his hands.
Heblon leaned forward and adopted the tone he used on his stormtroopers. Maybe he could get an answer out of reflex. Wedge was, after all, a military man. "I asked you a question, soldier. What...is...your...name?"
That seemed to get his attention. His hands dropped from his ears and he seemed to pull himself together. "Wedge. Wedge Antilles."
"Open your eyes."
Wedge's eyes opened about halfway, and they glanced around the room. He shifted position slightly and winced at the discomfort the movement caused. Heblon saw blood on the blanket that must have leaked through the bandages on his back. Although they had been soaked in bacta, he knew that it would take a few more hours until they would begin the healing process.
He pressed on with his questions, acutely aware that time was slipping away.
"Who were your parents?"
"J-Jagged and Zena."
"Where were you born? Where were you raised?"
Wedge frowned in concentration. "C...Corellia. I was raised in...Gus Treta."
"What's your rank?"
"It's...I don't know." The brown eyes became troubled, but at least he was trying.
"Yes, you do. Who are you?" Heblon added a military edge to his voice, as much as he could manage. "Name, rank, serial number!"
He watched fear flash in Wedge's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by determination. "Wedge Antilles. General. Serial number 8470522."
"What is your occupation? What do you do?"
"Fly X-wings."
Heblon smiled at the understatement. "With what unit?"
"Rogue Squadron."
"Who is your wingman?"
"Flight Officer Rekdon Pinkar."
He was sounding more and more lucid all the time. I can't believe this is working!
"Who's Ajene?" Heblon slipped the question in, hoping that it would shake Wedge up a bit.
"Ajene? She's got green eyes...and red curls?"
Wedge raised his eyebrows in surprise, and Heblon laughed. "She must be hard to forget."
"Yeah...she is..." He smiled at the picture of her he'd obviously just rediscovered in his memory. And the realization that maybe he did have something to live for after all.
"Who am I?"
"You're Heblon, a good friend of mine...whether you like it or not." His gaze was still a little unsteady, but he met Heblon's surprised look.
"Okay, that's enough for now. You're getting dopey again. Here, drink some of this." He raised the pilot into a semi-sitting position and held a cup of liquid protein drink to his lips. So far it was the only thing, other than bacta, that Wedge could keep down. He was weak from his injuries, but he also hadn't eaten or drank very much in the last three days. Between that and blood loss, Heblon knew he was dehydrated and would need to keep forcing liquid into him.
He leaned in close to Wedge and whispered so that no one else, including those possibly monitoring the cell, would be able to hear. "You have to keep your strength up if you want to survive until your unit gets here. You came very close to dying earlier. Please don't do that to me again."
"I'll try not to."
Heblon was happy to hear a little of the spirit return to his voice. Since he had him talking again, there was another question that he had wanted to ask him. "Who is Corran?"
Wedge looked at him, a little confused, over the rim of the glass that he had now taken into his own shaking hands. "Where did you hear that name?"
"Well, you actually did die before. Your heart had stopped and you weren't breathing. I had to work on you for a while to bring you back. I expect that you were as close to death as you will ever get without actually staying dead. When you came back, you yelled out that name."
Wedge lay down, on his left side this time, but didn't fall unconscious as he had just about every other time before. Heblon could see that he was thinking hard about something. His face twisted as he tried to access memories that had been denied him for the last day. When he spoke, he was finally starting to sound more like himself. But what he said left Heblon wondering if the fever hadn't affected his brain.
"Corran spoke to me last night."
Heblon looked at him curiously. "What do you mean? Explain that to me."
"At the time when you say that I was dead, I think I felt Corran calling me back, trying to convince me that it wasn't my time." He took a deep breath. Speaking for any length of time was obviously hard on him. "He didn't want me to go and when I did come back, I held onto him as long as I could. He was sharing my pain, and it was the first moment of relief I'd felt in days. But he managed to break free, and I remember trying to reach out for him. But I don't remember...calling out...his name." He clutched at his side, a spasm of pain hitting him. Heblon managed to seize the glass before it fell to the metal floor of the cell.
After several minutes, the cramp seemed to ease and Wedge took several long breaths. Heblon thought over what Wedge had just said. "I've heard people talk about near death experiences before. It's just the mind playing tricks on you. A lack of oxygen can do strange things to brain cells."
Wedge shook his head solemnly. "You don't know Corran... He has some power over the Force. But I didn't realize that he had that kind of control. I really think that he was here with me last night." He looked over at Heblon as the older man shook his head violently, then visibly trembled as a shiver ran through him. "What is it?"
"You say that this person was with you last night?"
Wedge nodded slightly.
"While I was trying to bring you back, I had the uneasy feeling that there was someone in the room with us, and that they were looking for you through me. It gave me one hell of a headache. And I thought I heard..." He considered it and then shook his head again to clear the bizarre thoughts that were running through it. "Nah, I'm just imagining things."
"I wouldn't bet on it." Wedge started to cough, and Heblon thought the protein drink might make a reappearance. He doubled over in pain, his arms tightly wound around his belly. "Don't take this personally, but I would rather be anywhere but here," he grunted.
Heblon reached over and placed his hand over Wedge's forehead. He was still warm and a little sweaty, but his fever seemed to have broken. "I'm pretty sure that you still have some internal bleeding, and the injuries to your back are pretty severe. There's probably some fluid in your lungs and you've lost a lot of blood, which will weaken you further. But you're going to live through this, Wedge. You have my promise on that."
Wedge's hand reached up and his thin fingers wrapped around Heblon's wrist. He gave it a light squeeze. "Thank you."
For the first time, Heblon didn't feel uncomfortable at the gratitude Wedge was showing him. He gave him as big a smile as he could manage. "You're welcome. Now rest."
Wedge replied with a weak smile of his own then closed his eyes.