Summary: Rogue Squadron heads back to Hoth to defend an Intelligence Unit. But they get more than they bargained for.

Disclaimer: Star Wars, Rogue Squadron, and the rest are not mine. I write this
for my own amusement. Jesina is my own, original creation.

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Chapter 11: Cry

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Hobbie was more than happy to get the bandaging off his hand. He still had to keep it in a sling, and it hurt more without the bandage but the lack of irritation made the additional pain worth it. Plus, he'd been given a painkiller and had every intention of using it as soon as he made it back to his quarters.

As he turned the corner and his door came into view, he saw that Inyri was standing there. If the comments Jesina had made their first day here, that painkiller was going to have to wait a while. "Hey, Inyri."

She hesitated. "Hey. How are you?"

He shrugged. "It's getting better." He used his left hand to key open the door and she followed him inside. Sitting down on the bed, he looked at her. "Did you need something?"

"No…I just wanted to see how you were doing. It's been a few days and, well, you haven't really talked to me."

He sighed. "I'm not going to lie. I was pretty mad that you went to Jes about me. And that you drugged me to do it."

She shifted uncomfortably. "I know. I'm sorry, but I didn't know what to do. You were so upset, and it scared me."

"When did you start taking such an interest in how I feel?"

Inyri instantly went on the defensive. "Sorry, but when I find a friend of mine so drunk he can't stand up, I get concerned," she shot back, and turned to go.

Hobbie jumped to his feet and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. "Oh no, we're not going to play this game. We're not going to do the whole 'I say something and Inyri takes it the wrong way on purpose.' No. I didn't yell at you. There was no reason for you to go off on me like that."

Inyri deflated. "I'm sorry, I just…"

"You just what?" he challenged her.

She dropped onto the cot, defeated. "I don't know."

Hobbie frowned. He was beginning to see what Jesina had been talk about. But how to deal with it?

"Inyri, are you all right?" He reached over and took her hand.

She yanked it back. "I'm fine. I need…I need to go."

Then she ran out of his quarters.

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Hobbie set down his tray in the mess, sat down, took one look at his food and pushed the tray aside. Then he proceeded to hit his head on the table several times, not stopping until he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Hobbs?"

He looked up to see Janson, still in his flightsuit, holding his helmet and looking concerned. "You okay?"

"Yeah." He rubbed his forehead. "You just get back from patrol?"

Janson nodded, sitting down next to him. "How long until you can fly again?" He nodded at his hand.

"Another couple of days."

"Good," the other man said emphatically, and Hobbie raised an eyebrow at him. "If I have to fly with her one more time I'm going to scream."

"She's not that bad," Hobbie protested.

Janson stared at him. "She's been dead for ten years, but she resurfaces working for Intel – which, incidentally, lied to get us back on this rock." He sighed. "I don't like flying with people I don't trust."

"You've done it before," Hobbie pointed out. "With Tycho."

"That was different."

"Yeah, it was worse. You thought Tycho was still an Imp. Jesina's not even Intel anymore. She resigned because Cracken lied to her, too. Not just us. And I really think she'd have told us if she knew."

"Since when are you the optimistic one?" Janson asked him.

"I'm not. I just think you should give her a chance. Have you even heard her side of the story?"

"I heard enough."

"From Wedge and Tycho?" When Wes nodded, he went on, "Well, then you know Wedge pretty much forgave her, and Tycho was too pissed off to talk. So between them both you might have heard the whole thing, but I wouldn't count on it. Go talk to her."

Wes' expression told Hobbie that that was the last thing he wanted to do. After a moment of silence, he changed the subject. "What's your problem?"

"Huh?"

"When I walked up you were trying to give yourself a concussion – and if you do, I'll kill you myself because that means I get stuck flying with her longer."

Hobbie thought for a minute. He could tell Wes, but that would only end in disaster. Inyri would kill them both and, if by some small chance she didn't, he'd probably end up wanting to kill Wes himself. "It's nothing."

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"A word, Major?" Jesina asked from Wes' open doorway.

"Yes, Colonel?"

She came in and closed the door. "What's your problem with me?"

He looked at her. "If you don't know, it's not worth talking about it."

"I want to talk about it. Janson, what did I do to you that was so much worse than to Wedge and Tycho?"

"You left, Jes." The hard edge he'd had toward her since he'd first seen her was gone now. "I don't know what was going on then, but there was something. And you left. Left, died…whatever. You were gone."

"I had a job to do, and it turned out badly and I'm sorry. But it was my job, whatever the consequences."

"Yeah, your job. Which you didn't even tell me about!" he exclaimed.

"I couldn't. Wes, intel work then was different than it is now. It was much more dangerous, and much more secretive."

"Jesina, we talked about trying to get together, trying to have a relationship. And you couldn't tell me what you were doing?"

"No." She paused, struggling to find a way to explain it to him. "Wes, there were several times I was given assignments that were directly linked to what the Rogues were doing. If any of you had been captured, they would have tortured you to find out everything they could about what Intelligence was doing. You guys have great resistance training, but none of you have the capability to withstand what they'd put you through. If you knew who I was and were tortured for the information, you'd have told them. And that would have been fatal for me. That's why you guys weren't told that Iella was the agent on Adumar. And that's why all the times you've ended up working with Winter, you didn't know you would be until you actually got there and had to work with her."

Wes turned away, staring at the wall. He needed time to think. He understood her explanation and it made sense, but that didn't make it any easier to figure out how he felt. Finally, he turned back. "I don't trust you, Jes. You died, and it took me a year to get over it. And now you're back, and I find out you lied to me Force knows how many times. I don't trust you. I can't. Give me some time and maybe I will again. But I can't right now."

He put a hand on her shoulder and for a moment she was soothed by the familiar touch. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had given her so much as an affectionate pat on the back. Then he walked out of his own quarters.

She watched him leave, sinking down onto his cot. And, for the first time in years, she let herself cry.