DISCLAIMER: I don't own Star Wars (if only!) and no copyright infringement
is intended. This story is written not for profit, but solely for my own
amusement.
SETTING: Immediately after Battle of Yavin
Wedge sighed. He ought to be celebrating. He knew that Tarkin and the Death Star were no more. Wes was getting better from his bout with the fever, and Hobbie was back from wherever he'd been, and the Yavin base hadn't been blown to bits. But so many had died--Jek Porkins and Biggs Darklighter among them, and almost Luke Skywalker.
Almost Luke Skywalker. Yes, Luke had survived to fire that key shot. But no thanks to me, Wedge thought to himself. If Solo hadn't come back with that ancient freighter of his, Luke would have been history. Yavin 4 would have been history. And the Rebellion would have been crushed once and for all. "And it would be all my fault," he thought aloud, slamming his fist into the nearest table.
"Hey," came a very sharp, very female voice behind him. "What did that table ever do to you that it deserves such a beating?"
"Princess Leia." His voice betrayed his surprise. She looked very regal, still in the white Alderaanian gown she'd worn at the award ceremony. He wasn't certain how to greet her, but figured that a bow couldn't hurt.
She laughed. "First, no bows. Second, call me Leia. Just Leia. We're all equals here."
"Some people are more respected than others, though," he muttered, half under his breath, but still hoping she would hear.
"Oh?" Leia asked, raising an eyebrow. "Does this have anything to do with whatever it is that is all your fault?" He stared at her for a moment and did not speak, and it was she who broke the silence in the end, asking simply, "Are you okay?"
He shook his head, still unable to speak for tears that threatened to fall. His mind was reeling with snatches of conversations he'd overheard, accusing him of being a coward, saying he'd abandoned Luke and, worst of all of them, blaming him for Biggs' death.
Wedge felt a tear roll down his cheek, and swiped at it furiously. The last time he'd cried had been just after his parents' death. Mirax Terrik had cornered him, forcing him to face his feelings rather than just bury them away somewhere. Much the way Leia was doing now, he realized.
She reached toward him and took his hand, then led him into the lounge across the hall. She guided him silently to an old couch against the wall, pushed him down onto it, then sat facing him. "Tell me what this is about," she said. "What are you blaming yourself for?"
The whole story poured forth. He told her his own misgivings about pulling out of the Death Star trench, the whispered words he'd not been meant to hear, and finally, haltingly, he told her his private wish that it had been him instead of Biggs who had stayed behind, who had been killed in the battle.
Leia listened silently, her expression changing from sympathy to anger and finally to worry as she acknowledged the depth of his pain, and the loss he felt at the deaths of those he'd been so very close to.
Finally she spoke. "What you're feeling isn't uncommon in the least. It's called Survivor's Guilt. It's something we all have to deal with at one time or another in life. Trust me." She grinned ruefully, then the sparkle in her eye was replaced by sadness. "I've become something of an expert on the subject recently."
He wanted to shoot himself. Alderaan. How petty she must be finding his concerns, having, only days ago, lost absolutely everything.
She spoke again, and her words left him wondering if she could read his thoughts. "When I saw Alderaan destroyed, I felt like I'd lost everything. But I hadn't. I still had the Rebellion. I'd made up my mind to devote my life to bringing an end to the Empire. When I made that decision I knew that the road to that victory would be long and filled with danger and loss, but I also knew that we would win. We've not won yet, and I suspect we still have quite a way to go, and we have suffered tremendous losses, but we also have something we've not had before. We have a real, true victory.
Leia stopped for a moment and studied him. "I know you feel as though you've let friends down. But look at it this way. You've survived to fight another day, a day when you can avenge the losses we suffered today. If you want to pay off any debts you feel you owe to your comrades--both those that live to see tomorrow, and those that died out there--that is how you can do it. Keep fighting. Do not let their sacrifices have been for nothing. If you keep going, keep fighting, you'll honor their sacrifice more than you would have dreamed possible."
She continued, "I know how much it doesn't help to be reminded that you were ordered out, but you really have to think about it that way. Obeying an order doesn't make you a coward, no matter what anyone else might say. No matter what you might be telling yourself right now. You are as much of a hero as Luke Skywalker or Han Solo. Just having the courage to go out there earns you a place in history. Consider yourself lucky that you've survived to have that honor. Those who died going after the Death Star will earn that honor as well, but they'll not be around to enjoy it."
So, what do you think?
SETTING: Immediately after Battle of Yavin
Wedge sighed. He ought to be celebrating. He knew that Tarkin and the Death Star were no more. Wes was getting better from his bout with the fever, and Hobbie was back from wherever he'd been, and the Yavin base hadn't been blown to bits. But so many had died--Jek Porkins and Biggs Darklighter among them, and almost Luke Skywalker.
Almost Luke Skywalker. Yes, Luke had survived to fire that key shot. But no thanks to me, Wedge thought to himself. If Solo hadn't come back with that ancient freighter of his, Luke would have been history. Yavin 4 would have been history. And the Rebellion would have been crushed once and for all. "And it would be all my fault," he thought aloud, slamming his fist into the nearest table.
"Hey," came a very sharp, very female voice behind him. "What did that table ever do to you that it deserves such a beating?"
"Princess Leia." His voice betrayed his surprise. She looked very regal, still in the white Alderaanian gown she'd worn at the award ceremony. He wasn't certain how to greet her, but figured that a bow couldn't hurt.
She laughed. "First, no bows. Second, call me Leia. Just Leia. We're all equals here."
"Some people are more respected than others, though," he muttered, half under his breath, but still hoping she would hear.
"Oh?" Leia asked, raising an eyebrow. "Does this have anything to do with whatever it is that is all your fault?" He stared at her for a moment and did not speak, and it was she who broke the silence in the end, asking simply, "Are you okay?"
He shook his head, still unable to speak for tears that threatened to fall. His mind was reeling with snatches of conversations he'd overheard, accusing him of being a coward, saying he'd abandoned Luke and, worst of all of them, blaming him for Biggs' death.
Wedge felt a tear roll down his cheek, and swiped at it furiously. The last time he'd cried had been just after his parents' death. Mirax Terrik had cornered him, forcing him to face his feelings rather than just bury them away somewhere. Much the way Leia was doing now, he realized.
She reached toward him and took his hand, then led him into the lounge across the hall. She guided him silently to an old couch against the wall, pushed him down onto it, then sat facing him. "Tell me what this is about," she said. "What are you blaming yourself for?"
The whole story poured forth. He told her his own misgivings about pulling out of the Death Star trench, the whispered words he'd not been meant to hear, and finally, haltingly, he told her his private wish that it had been him instead of Biggs who had stayed behind, who had been killed in the battle.
Leia listened silently, her expression changing from sympathy to anger and finally to worry as she acknowledged the depth of his pain, and the loss he felt at the deaths of those he'd been so very close to.
Finally she spoke. "What you're feeling isn't uncommon in the least. It's called Survivor's Guilt. It's something we all have to deal with at one time or another in life. Trust me." She grinned ruefully, then the sparkle in her eye was replaced by sadness. "I've become something of an expert on the subject recently."
He wanted to shoot himself. Alderaan. How petty she must be finding his concerns, having, only days ago, lost absolutely everything.
She spoke again, and her words left him wondering if she could read his thoughts. "When I saw Alderaan destroyed, I felt like I'd lost everything. But I hadn't. I still had the Rebellion. I'd made up my mind to devote my life to bringing an end to the Empire. When I made that decision I knew that the road to that victory would be long and filled with danger and loss, but I also knew that we would win. We've not won yet, and I suspect we still have quite a way to go, and we have suffered tremendous losses, but we also have something we've not had before. We have a real, true victory.
Leia stopped for a moment and studied him. "I know you feel as though you've let friends down. But look at it this way. You've survived to fight another day, a day when you can avenge the losses we suffered today. If you want to pay off any debts you feel you owe to your comrades--both those that live to see tomorrow, and those that died out there--that is how you can do it. Keep fighting. Do not let their sacrifices have been for nothing. If you keep going, keep fighting, you'll honor their sacrifice more than you would have dreamed possible."
She continued, "I know how much it doesn't help to be reminded that you were ordered out, but you really have to think about it that way. Obeying an order doesn't make you a coward, no matter what anyone else might say. No matter what you might be telling yourself right now. You are as much of a hero as Luke Skywalker or Han Solo. Just having the courage to go out there earns you a place in history. Consider yourself lucky that you've survived to have that honor. Those who died going after the Death Star will earn that honor as well, but they'll not be around to enjoy it."
So, what do you think?