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.

A Note: This chapter is dedicated to Mag on , who ranted about men and their over-protective tendencies. It popped into my head after her comments. So blame her. Not really. :) I assume full responsibility. Don't all kill me. Please?

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Chapter 13: Possible

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Hobbie stuck his head in the door to Wedge's office. "That damn droid says I'm cleared to fly."

Wedge arched an eyebrow at him. "That damn droid?" he repeated. "Getting on your nerves, eh?"

Hobbie came the rest of the way into the office and dropped into a chair. "You have no idea."

"In a few minutes you're probably going to wish you were still dealing with the Two-OneBee," Wedge warned him and watched as Hobbie's eyes narrowed. "Given the problems you had that led to that," he gestured toward Hobbie's hand, "I want you to run a few sims before we put you in a cockpit for real."

"Wedge, I'm fine," he protested. "It was just a…an adjustment thing. It was weird being back. I've been back for almost two weeks and I'm okay."

"Hobbie, I want to believe you. But on the off chance that you're wrong, this is the safest way to find out."

"Wedge," Hobbie tried again.

"Head to the sim room. I'll have Tycho set you up with the simulation I want you to run." Defeated, the Raltiirian nodded and left, looking none too pleased. Wedge sighed. He was going to be even less pleased after the sim run.

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Inyri pulled her helmet off and climbed down from her cockpit. She was halfway to hangar entrance when she realized she'd left her gloves in the fighter. "Shavit," she muttered.

Gavin turned to look at her. "You all right?"

"Forgot my gloves in the cockpit."

"Go get them. I'll wait."

"No, go on and warm up. I think I can manage to climb up and down a ladder without a baby-sitter." She offered him a grin and headed back to her fighter as he nodded and left the hangar.

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Inyri was about to turn the corner toward her quarters when Hobbie nearly plowed her over. His face was red and he looked ready to shoot someone. Tycho and Wedge were right behind him, both talking at the same time in a futile effort to calm him down. She grabbed Wedge's arm as he past her. "What happened?"

"He didn't react well to the sim we had him run," Wedge explained, looking after his friend.

She had a bad feeling about this. "What sim?"

"We had him run a sim based on the battle here."

"How closely based on the battle?"

"Essentially recreated it. Started out the same, including the shield coming down and the base being breached."

"Are you crazy?" Inyri exclaimed, knowing full well that she was out of line. "You made him relive it?"

"It wasn't the same people or the exact events of the battle," Wedge defended himself.

"That doesn't matter. I guarantee you that that's what he was thinking of. He was in the cockpit, thinking Luke is Rogue Leader, and his gunner is Dack, who is dead. And my gunner dies too. What did you expect?"

Wedge was at a loss. He hadn't liked the sim run idea to begin with, but had seen it as the only way. But in all his reservations, he hadn't considered that reaction. He glanced at Tycho, finally, but saw a stunned expression that he guessed was mirrored on his own face.

Inyri stood before her commanding officer, hands on her hips, waiting for the expected reprimand. When it didn't come, she took off down the corridor and banged on Hobbie's door until he let her in.

"I'm sorry," she said once the door was closed.

"You knew?" he exclaimed.

"No! I didn't. I just got into a screaming match with Wedge in the hall."

He continued to rant – most of the time she couldn't even understand what he was yelling. It wasn't overly directed at her, though he did occasionally throw accusations her way. She just stood there and took it, unwilling to leave him alone.

Outside, Wedge, Wes, Tycho, and Gavin stood, listening to the yelling and the occasional crash induced by Hobbie's temper. Finally, Inyri emerged. Her face was pale, hair disheveled and she looked like she'd been crying. Casting one glace in their direction, she turned the other way and walked off.

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Wes looked up when Inyri walked into the mess, blinking rapidly when he saw the large bruise on her cheek. "Gavin," he said softly, nodding in her direction.

Gavin looked up, and looked back down quickly. "Where did that come from?"

Wes shook his head. "I don't knows. She didn't have it the last time I saw her."

"When was that?"

"Same time you did. Right after she and Hobbie had that fight." He paused. "Do you know what's going on with them?"

"That whole mother's instinct thing, I think," Gavin replied. "He's been having a rough time, so she wants to keep an eye on him and all that." He hesitated and looked suspiciously at Wes. "Why?"

"I just…it's…" he trailed off helplessly.

Gavin frowned. He didn't like where this conversation was heading, or what Wes seemed to be suggesting. "You don't think…?"

"I don't want to," Wes said slowly. He really didn't want to be thinking what he was thinking. He'd known Hobbie a long time and couldn't believe he'd do something like that. But he hadn't been himself lately. He'd been really angry when he'd been talking to Inyri, and she'd looked much the worse for wear when she'd come out. All the yelling and the crashes…. He stood up. "I'm going to go talk to Wedge and Tycho."

"I'll come with you."

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"I don't believe this," Wedge muttered. "Are you kidding?"

"I don't want to believe it, either," Wes countered. "But they have this huge fight and then her cheek is black and blue. It makes sense."

"No, it doesn't. I can't imagine him doing that."

"Neither can I. But he hasn't been himself lately. You have to admit that."

"Yeah, but," Wedge looked at Tycho helplessly.

Tycho shook his head. "I don't like it, but Wes' argument does have its merits." He shrugged. "Talk to Inyri. See what she says, before you make up your mind about this. There might be a good explanation."

"Like what?" Gavin asked.

Tycho shook his head. "I can't think of anything. But it's possible."