A/N: This sort of came out of nowhere. Wasn't expecting to publish a new chapter this soon, but here we are. The next update, however, is planned. I'll be posting something Christmas Day, so keep an eye out.

Without further ado, happy reading! :)

Chapter Summary: Luke struggles with the consequences of destroying the Death Star.

Chapter 3: One Million

At first, he was elated. They had won. He'd done it. He'd blown up the Death Star, and the Rebellion was alive to fight another day. He clung to Leia and Han, giddy and drunk on the joyous cheers and shouts all around him.

He and Wedge, the last of Red Squadron, were passed around. Everyone wanted to congratulate them, give them a pat on the back, and express their gratitude. Of course, Han wasn't left out of the fray. If it hadn't been for him, Luke very well may have been blown away.

The three of them endured—and even enjoyed—this treatment for close to an hour. Eventually, they grew tired, and Leia and General Dodonna stepped in. Those still on-duty were told to begin evacuation protocols—after the ceremony planned for tomorrow, the base was to be abandoned (the Empire wouldn't stay away for long)—and everyone else was ordered to get some rest.

Luke stumbled to his hastily assigned quarters and flopped face-first onto his bunk. He was asleep before he could even contemplate taking his boots off.

Days later, the implications of what he had done hit him with the force of a blaster shot to the stomach.

He was walking through the mess hall when a group of people crowded around a table caught his attention. They were watching something on someone's portable holoprojector. As he got closer, he realized it was some kind of Imperial propaganda. The small, blue form of some random Imperial anchorman flickered but held steady.

"...this devastating loss shall not be forgotten. We all mourn the slaughter of the one million loyal Imperial soldiers and civilians that were working on the space station, which was to be a scientific research facility…"

"Scientific research facility," someone scoffed.

"How can anyone believe this poodoo?" another demanded.

Luke didn't hear any of them. His mind was stuck, the words "one million" pounding against his brain over and over.

"Is that true?" Luke heard himself asking.

"Which part?"

"One million. Were there one million beings on the Death Star?"

"They could be exaggerating, but I wouldn't be surprised if there were. That thing was huge."

Luke didn't know who had answered him. He felt numb.

One million.

"You okay, Skywalker? You're looking a little pale."

One million.

"I'm fine."

His mind went on autopilot and his feet took him away from the table and out of the mess hall. He didn't know where he was going. He just kept moving.

If there were one million people on the Death Star, and Luke had been the one to blow it up, then that meant…

Bile rose in his throat, but he forced it down.

One million.

What would Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen think? His heart clenched painfully. They wouldn't think anything because they were dead. And so was Biggs. And Ben. And one million people, who he had…

"Luke?"

He had…

"I killed them." Somehow, the words squeezed passed the lump in his throat.

"Hey, hey." There were warm hands on his shoulders. "Luke, you need to breathe."

"I...can't," Luke gasped.

"If you can talk, you can breathe." One of the hands moved from his shoulders. It clasped Luke's hand and brought it to rest against someone's chest. "Come on, copy me. In...out...in...out."

Luke focused on the feeling of his hand moving up and down on the chest. He sucked in air when it rose and let it out when it fell.

"That's it. You're doing good."

After a few minutes of this, his nausea abated and the world came back into focus. He was sitting on the ground with his back against a wall—When did that happen?—and Wedge Antilles was crouched in front of him, holding Luke's hand against his chest. They were in a hallway, which was thankfully deserted. Luke felt heat rising in his cheeks. He tugged on his hand and Wedge let go.

"I'm sorry—

"Don't be," Wedge interrupted.

"I don't know what happened," Luke whispered, unable to meet Wedge's eyes.

"Luke." Wedge waited until Luke looked up. "It's okay. Everyone gets overwhelmed sometimes. You're not expected to be strong all the time."

Luke sighed and slumped further against the wall. He felt drained, like he'd just ran three miles when the suns of Tatooine were at their highest.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Wedge asked.

"I…" His voice caught in his throat. One million. He shook himself. "It just hit me, I guess. What I did."

Wedge nodded, understanding in his dark eyes. He didn't ask him to elaborate, and Luke had never been more grateful.

"You did what you had to do, Luke."

"Doesn't mean I feel any better about it."

"I know. I'm sorry you had to make that choice." Wedge stood and held out a hand. "You ready to move?"

Luke nodded and accepted the hand. He was pulled abruptly to his feet—stars, Wedge was stronger than he looked—and Wedge patted him on the shoulder.

"A certain smuggler was looking for you—something about you promising to take a look at some of the Falcon's systems?"

Luke smacked his forehead. "I completely forgot!"

As if he had been summoned, said smuggler rounded the corner looking irritated.

"What's taking so long, Antilles?" Han stopped in front of them and pointed a finger at Luke. "And where've you been, kid? Chewie's getting impatient."

Wedge rolled his eyes and Luke suppressed a snort.

"Sorry, I forgot," Luke said. "Don't worry, I'll apologize to Chewie for my tardiness."

"Damn right you will! He doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Luke had only known Han and Chewie for little over a week, but he knew for certain that Chewie was definitely the more patient of the two. Unless it came to dejarik. The Wookie hated to lose.

"Don't get your power cables in a knot, Solo." Wedge crossed his arms and smirked. "Luke and me were just having a conversation. We were about to head over to the Falcon before you came barging over like an angry gundark."

"Careful, Antilles, I know where your bunk is."

Luke grinned and leaned casually against the wall to watch the show. They could be here awhile. The only people who bantered and argued more than Han and Wedge were Han and Leia.

He knew what he'd done at the Battle of Yavin would come back to torment him later. He would probably be forced to make more terrible decisions over the course of this war. There would be bad days to come. But he'd get through them, as long as he had his friends by his side.

A/N: This is my first time writing Wedge and Han, so sorry if they seem OOC.