Title: Inner Demons, Outer Evils

Summary: A tragic event sets Rogue Squadron on the path to the truth...and sends one of the Rogues on a collision course with himself.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is, quite clearly, not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is not written for profit.

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Chapter 6: Off Balance

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"Have a seat, Tycho," Dr. Lur said when he entered her office. She wore a broad smile that didn't fade in the slightest, even in the face of his dark countenance.

Inwardly, Ishana sighed. She'd been pleased when he entered the hospital, because it had been of his own accord, before he'd actually done anything stupid. Moreover, the fact that he'd gone to his friends had suggested to her that he was ready to talk. But he'd done his damnedest to prove her wrong. He'd been more tightlipped about what was going on in his head than a smuggler about his cargo.

She pushed her datapad aside and studied him. "Do you want to be helped? Or do you want to feel this way the rest of your life?"

His eyes widened and she gave a silent cheer. Finally, she'd gotten him to show some form of emotion, even if it WAS just incredulity. "I wouldn't be here if I liked feeling like this."

The doctor shook her head. "I don't buy it. Because if you wanted help you'd talk to me. You'd try to help me figure out what's wrong with you so we can fix it. And you aren't doing that. If anything, you're doing your best to prevent me from ever understanding you. And I can't understand why."

He was clearly at a loss. "I...I'm sorry."

She shook her head again. "Don't apologize to me. Apologize to your wife, your best friends. Apologize to yourself. But not to me."

She leaned back in her chair and thought for a moment. "Tycho, you have no reason to not be talking to me. You don't have anything to hide. Thanks to the sludgenews people, the entire galaxy knows you've been hospitalized. What we don't know – and what we really need to know – is what went wrong with you to make death a preferable alternative to your life?"

He smirked, eyes narrow. "That one's easy. I killed a good friend."

Ishana sighed and looked away for a minute, counting silently in an attempt to gather her thoughts before she spoke out of turn. "Is that really what this is all about? Can you honestly tell me that you were perfectly fine until the day Corran Horn died?"

He didn't answer, just avoided meeting her eyes. That was enough of an answer for her. "I didn't think so."

She smiled at him. "I know you've heard the statement that Jesina gave to the media about your hospitalization." It hadn't even taken two days for the sludgenews to get the story, just as Leia and Jesina had predicted, and Jesina had acted as the squadron's spokesperson. "Do you remember it?"

He shook his head. "Not very well." She nodded. She wasn't surprised. He'd had a lot of difficulty sleeping the first few days and the staff had resorted to sedating him. Even when he'd been awake, he hadn't really been with it.

"She said that the problems you've been having are not uncommon. And she's right. There's a reason military hospitals employ mental health professionals. A lot of people have a much harder time than you have, dealing with far less than you've been forced to."

Ishana picked up her datapad and scanned his file again, though she knew she didn't need to. Shed read it again and again over the last few days, struggling to find a way to get through to him.

"Let's see. You served the Empire loyally until they blew up your home world and with it your family, who you'd been talking to at the time. You jumped ship and went over to the Rebellion just in time to join Rogue Squadron and to suffer through the defeats at Derra IV and Hoth. You only narrowly survived Endor. Then you volunteered to fly a capture Imperial shuttle to Coruscant, which resulted in several months of Imperial captivity under Ysanne Isard. After your stay at Lusankya and Akrit'tar, you returned to the New Republic only to be placed under house arrest by people who thought you were a spy. That culminated in a trial that quite possibly could have resulted in your execution. Things have actually been fairly smooth for you over the last few years – well, as smooth as they can ever be for someone in your line of work – with the major exception of ending up working for the woman who nearly destroyed your life."

She paused and watched for a reaction from him, but he continued to sit still, his face impassive. So she went on. "And then there's what happened a week and a half ago, in which you were forced to kill a friend and fellow pilot after he fired on your commanding offer – a man who, incidentally, is the same one who accused you of being a traitor eleven years ago."

Ishana stopped speaking and looked up at him again. This time she was rewarded with an amused half-smile playing on his lips. It was certainly not an indication that he was interested in being cooperative, but it was something.

"Tycho, you were a prime candidate for a breakdown. Throughout your life you've dealt with one tragedy after another. Couple that with the normal stress of your incredibly draining job, and the fact that you're constantly surrounded by death, and with the pace you always set for yourself, and it's to your credit that you went this long without having a serious problem."

She rested her chin on the palm of her hand and met his eyes. This time he didn't look away, and she felt that she'd finally made a connection with him. She wasn't sure what had done it, and she didn't care at the moment. All that mattered was that she finally had an opening with him. She finally had his attention, and she wasn't about to lose it.

"Tycho, do you know why I wouldn't allow your friends to visit you?"

He shook his head. "Why?"

It was all she could do to keep from cheering. It was the first time he'd actually engaged her. "There are a couple of reasons. One was because I wanted to knock you off balance. Your friends – Leia Organa-Solo, Wedge, Jesina, and the rest of the squadron – are the forces of stability in your life. The other is that I wanted to put you in a position where I could convince you that it was okay for you to breakdown. With your friends around, you feel the need to maintain your composure. Your friends are a major source of stability for you, but they're also part of your problem. You need to let down your guard, and you won't do that with them around. You're afraid of disappointing them, of letting them down."