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Wedge sprawled across the bed with Wes, watching as Luke paced the room, newly attached fist clenching and unclenching as he walked. Tycho had claimed the desk chair, arms crossed and chin tucked in as the Alderaanian stared with hooded eyes. Hobbie leaned against the desk itself, dour expression concerned as he also watched their Commander trace the perimeter.
“So boss, what happened after Hoth?” Wedge prompted after the silence had just gone on too long.
“I—I was…told, I guess,” Luke sighed ruefully, “To go to a planet called Dagobah for training in the Force. And I got it. Got a lot of it. But I just—couldn’t be patient. Had to go haring off and screw everything up.”
“So you’re a full-fledged glow-stick warrior of destiny now?” Wes asked innocently, trying to keep the mood up.
Everyone snickered, a snort Luke’s concession to amusement. “Not even close,” the farm-boy rolled his eyes. “I had a dream while I was there.”
“Wedge’s tauntaun cooking nightmares? Yeah, been there,” Wes nodded sympathetically, squawking as Wedge dragged him into a headlock, giving him a fierce noogie before releasing him, none of the other pilots giving the pouting Wes any sympathy beyond smirks.
“Something a bit more serious,” Luke said, smile tucked away at the corner of his mouth but the shadows in his eyes not leaving. “Leia and Han were in trouble, on a city in the clouds. Bespin, Cloud City—and Darth Vader.”
Everyone inhaled sharply at the name, even if the rumor mills were already cranking away as to the nature of the encounter on Bespin. It would be hard to miss the dark, heavy-breathing nightmare’s starring role in any theories.
“Master Yoda—who was teaching me—insisted I wasn’t ready to face him. I couldn’t face him as I was,” Luke grimaced, “He was right, but I was so sure…and I couldn’t just leave Han and Leia. I couldn’t.”
“Course not, boss,” Hobbie replied, all the others nodding in agreement. If they got precognitive dreams about their friends in trouble, they’d take off running too.
“So I went to Bespin, Han was frozen in carbonite by the time I got there, and Leia was being helped off by Calrissian and the droids and Chewie were getting out too. I ran into Vader, and fought him with my saber,” Luke looked down at his hip where the saber had normally swung, hooked to his belt, and swallowed nervously, “I lost.”
“Didn’t die though, that’s something,” Wedge said, unable to completely hide the tremor in his voice at the thought of Luke actually dying at Vader’s hands. The months after Hoth had been bad enough, at least then he could insist that Luke had gotten caught up in the same mess as Han and Leia, wasn’t dead, couldn’t be dead. Not the commander. He didn’t want to think about what he’d do if yet another friend ended up dying on him, especially one as close as Luke.
“Yeah,” Luke said, sounding so cursed young in that moment it was difficult for Wedge to remember that Luke was, technically, two years older than him. Certainly not a kid to bundle off to safety somewhere to never get in danger again. “I lost my saber.”
“I’m sorry Luke. It was your dad’s, right?” Tycho said solemnly, having that mournful expression that always came into his eyes when he considered Alderaan and the loss of his whole family.
None of them expected the wild, hysterical laughter that greeted that question. Wedge snapped up, staring as Luke sagged against the wall, laughing until tears ran down his face and shifting to broken sobs. Not knowing what else to do, he stood and grabbed him into a rough embrace, Luke holding on desperately as he wept into his shoulder, hysterical edge not leaving.
Suddenly Wes was next to them, wrapping his arms around both their of them, Hobbie coming up behind Wedge to rest a hand on Luke’s back. Tycho reached around Luke and Wedge to grip Hobbie and Wes’ shoulders, completing the circle and surrounding their broken commander. “Luke?” Wedge asked when the wracking sobs faded, hoping he would explain.
“Lost my saber, lost my arm, lost my father,” Luke shuddered, “Vader—he—Stars I thought, I prayed he was lying but he wasn’t he wasn’t Wedge he was telling the truth I-!”
“Luke, Commander, shh,” Tycho responded, voice pitched low in an effort to sooth as he rested his head atop Luke’s. “Breathe sir,” Hobbie said quietly, “Just breathe.”
“And then tell us what Vader told the truth about please,” Wes chirped, “The suspense is killing me.”
Wedge shot him a scolding look but it softened ruefully at Luke’s weak laugh, hysterical edge not present in that one.
“He asked me to join him. To go to the Dark Side so we—so we could rule the galaxy as—as Father and son,” Luke’s voice faded to near nothing by the end, gaining strength as he continued, rushing and near tripping over his own words as he tried to get it all out, “Vader didn’t kill my father. He is my father. They lied to me! Why? Why would they—why say Vader killed him? Why not just say dead, gone, something—“
“Dude that makes so much sense,” Hobbie blurted.
Everyone froze, before looking over at him, Wedge getting a crick in his neck as he twisted around. Hobbie rubbed the back of his neck ruefully, a reluctant smile on his face as he asked, “Better explain that, huh?”
“Ya think?” Tycho asked sarcastically.
“Aw come on, Tych! You’ve seen Vader’s flight records! Hell, I’ve watched him fly!” Hobbie blurted, enthusiasm jarring as he defended his comment. “And—well, hate to say it sir, but you’re damn scary when you’re pissed.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Wes muttered.
“And Vader’s totally obsessed with you!” Hobbie insisted, warming to his topic, “All those capture alive orders—duh! He’s your dad! He wants to rule the galaxy with you! Of course he doesn’t want you dead!”
“So instead he cuts off his arm,” Wedge cut across the explanation coldly, tightening his hold on Luke briefly and ignoring the sudden silence that fell at his reminder of the current situation.
“Well…yeah,” Hobbie acknowledged at last, back to his usual subdued and dour state. “He’s evil. Obviously his parenting skills could use some work.”
“So how’d you get out of there?” Wedge prompted. “No saber, one arm down, how’d you get out?”
“I fell,” Luke said dully, “but couldn’t let go.”
Wes blanched at that, the others shooting him sharp looks, not understanding the nuances but knowing it was bad if Wes Janson was reacting like this. Hobbie wrapped a hand around Luke’s wrist, other hand resting on Wedge’s shoulder as they waited for his explanation.
He didn’t directly answer their looks, instead focusing on Luke, “Sir—you…you won’t do that again, right?”
“Do what again?” Tycho demanded, “Wes what are you-?”
“He jumped, Tych,” Wes interrupted, “Jumped in Cloud City.”
“Nonononono,” Wedge murmured, Hobbie’s breathing harsh in his ear as they finally got the implications, Wes and Tycho’s arms tightening around the five of them. “Luke you didn’t.”
“I did,” their Commander admitted dully, “Not again though. Just—stars it was just too much. I’d failed, everything was a lie—Vader’s son. Vader’s son. How could—how can I--? Suns what do I do?”
“Well, making a public service announcement is out,” Tycho said practically. “Unless Wes does it. Cuz then no one will believe it.”
“I’m not going to deny it. I won’t lie. There’s been too much of that.”
“Then don’t,” Wes shrugged, “Creatively dodge. Besides, the Princess has already given a report, just tell them you needed Jedi training and you’ll be golden for the months you were gone. Come back to us, to the Rogues.”
“I can’t—I mean, I can, of course, but—I need to finish my training. Find Han. I can’t just leave him frozen in carbonite.”
“Well of course not, but you need a plan,” Wedge pointed out.
“And some recovery time yourself,” Hobbie said dourly, “No good to anyone if you break halfway there.”
Tycho and Wes glared half-heartedly, but knew he was right. Their Commander was not his usual self right now, and not in any condition to go on a risky search-and-rescue mission.
“There’s going to be so many questions,” Luke said tiredly, finally. They all breathed a little easier at his lack of objection. He’d be staying with them for a time, healing up, before going off to save Han and finish his Jedi training. Good. He needed it. They needed it, to reassure themselves that any mission he went on wouldn’t be another suicide attempt, no matter how half-hearted.
“We’ll take care of that,” Wedge said firmly. “We’ll take care of it sir, don’t worry.”
“And you really don’t care? About…about Vader?” Luke asked.
“Well, like Hobbie said,” Tycho smiled wryly, “Makes sense. Besides, Hobbie and I were Imperials ourselves—you never were, your dad is. What should he have to do with your choices?”
“Also, an excellent insurance policy,” Wes chimed in, “Imagine—minions to the father-son galaxy ruling team! We’d get all the girls!”
“Oh great,” Hobbie sighed, “Now he wants to defect.”
Luke laughed, and the other four joined in, more because of his own laughter than how amusing they found the comment.
“Come on sir, sit down, let us tell you about what you missed. Because there were some beauties.”
“And some new pilots too!” Tycho added, the group hug-mash-up breaking apart as they took seats once more, Wedge keeping an arm slung across Luke’s shoulders as he guided him back to the bed, pulling him down to sit by him. Wes bounced in front of them cheerfully, saying, “Dibs on the Hobbie-jello-monster bit!”
“Oh no,” Hobbie moaned, “Kill me now.”