We’d had this arrangement for a while, Wedge and I. It was mutually beneficial and quite...satisfactory, to say the least. We called each other when we were stressed, or cranky, or so lonely we couldn’t breathe. It started right after Hoth, after that disatrous defeat where we lost so many.

I wonder, sometimes, how much bed-hopping goes on after a battle. There was plenty that night; my bunkmate was conveniently absent, and Wedge, bunking with Wes Janson, felt quite unwelcome in his own room. It was like standard protocol: "OK, everyone pair up and go into comfort mode." We were all walking in a daze; didn’t know where Commander Skywalker was, not to mention the Princess and Captain Solo; we were tallying up our dead and waiting for it to hit us. I took him to my bed so I wouldn’t be alone.

I wondered then, as now, why Wedge chose me; there were several women willing to share his loneliness. We’d been aquainted for a few months; we were both pilots but rarely flew together. I was friends with Wes Janson, Wedge’s gunner, and we pulled many a practical joke on the base; a few of which Wedge was a recipient of. He rarely looked my way. The other Rebel women Wedge kept company with were lovely and well mannered. I was brash, narcissistic, bad tempered. I pushed people away, it was easier than forming bonds that must be broken. That night, though, he came to me and I couldn’t push anymore.

I was standing in the hanger, looking at our sadly depleted fleet and wondering who might still make it there. The were no bounds to my rage at that moment. I’d lost everything. My adopted family, my cause, lay before me in shambles. My soul twisted in rage and I longed to go back out and finish either the Empire or myself.

Wedge came up behind me, laid a hand on my shoulder, and I wheeled around, ready to strike. He gathered me into his arms against my struggles, and held me until I calmed. There was something in his eyes that I couldn’t turn away from--a sense of loss and ache that mirrored my own. I wanted so badly to hang onto something, and he was there. There were very few words between us as I led him to my room, then his hands were against my skin and I forgot my hurt.

It was nice that time; no fireworks or headboard-cracking acrobatics, but quiet, gentle, just being close to someone. I could have given my heart to him, I think I even wanted to, just to have someone to call ‘my love’, but I pulled myself through that pretty quickly. It could only lead to pain. I fell asleep with my head on his chest, listening to his rythmic breathing, feeling safe and warm.

That’s a good word to describe Wedge; he’s a warm person. I came to discover that in the days, months, and years after our first encounter. It was supposed to be no-strings-attached, and we were never a couple, but he did become my friend. He knew, with his unerring instinct for trouble, that I was damaged goods, and worked slowly and carefully to pull down my shields and get me to talk. I spilled everything to him, and he never betrayed my confidence, never did anything that might frighten or upset me. Burdens are meant to be shared--he finally taught me that--take them to your friends. I’m grateful for his patience; I was not a willing student in that matter, but he never let me down, and I came to trust him.

That was why I began to worry about him; he stopped sharing. It started when Tycho Celchu was arrested, as far as I can tell; when the Provisional Council believed he was guilty of treason and murder. It could have started before, though; my squadron doesn’t fly with his very often anymore. I can’t blame him for being angry--to see the government you’ve fought for willing to sacrifice a man for politics--it pissed me off, too.

He called me when it happened, asked could I please meet him anywhere. After all the care he’d shown me, I couldn’t say no to him, not then. We sat in a tapcaf on a lower level of Coruscant where he proceeded to drink most of the stock and say very little. I’d known him then for four years, as a friend and lover, and he wouldn’t, no matter how I tried to draw him out, wouldn’t talk to me. He didn’t ask to come back to my room.

Then he was gone saving the galaxy, and when he returned, again a hero, my Wedge was gone. I saw him at the holo conference when Rogue Squadron landed on Coruscant, and he greeted me with a smile and huge hug and I thought he was back and whatever took him away was dead. But his eyes... I can’t describe what I saw, only what I didn’t see. I didn’t see Wedge. There was someone else behind his eyes, someone hurt and very tired and I think he sensed my distress because he frowned and turned away. He walked away from me.

The others noticed, Hobbie Klivian and Wes, and Wes pulled me aside and asked what had happened. What could I say? "I don’t know, Wes, I guess the evil spirit inside his head doesn’t like me?" I watched him give his speech and waited for him to come back over, to give an explanation or just a smile. Instead, when he stepped off the dais and disappeared into the crowd, my comlink beeped once. Our signal. Our Arrangement signal.

I was too furious to answer. How dare he dismiss me, then expect me to sleep with him? It beeped again, and I beeped his back twice: no. He’d never treated me with such contempt before; I truly expected him to show up at my bunk that night, offering an explanation and an apology. When he didn’t come, my heart told me that I should have gone to him. My brain told me that I wasn’t his whore.

I saw him twice after that, always in a group, and he barely spoke to me. Wes asked again if something was wrong; I don’t give him enought credit for sensitivity. He may not have known about the arrangement, but he knew that Wedge and I were friends, or used to be, and knew something was rotten in the state of Coruscant.

- - - - - - -

8 months later:

"Commander Zurek!" Wes stood at the bottom of the ladder by my X-Wing, saluting with a wide grin on his face. "How’s your love life?"

"Lieutenant Janson." I returned the salute. "None of your business."

"Uh-huh. That’s what I thought: non-existant. When are you going to give me a chance?"

"When you stop acting like a five-year-old. How’s the new squadron going? We’ve heard some mighty spectacular things."

His smile faltered only a little. "The last mission... we had a little mishap. Wedge is talking to the flight leader now."

I winced. Mishap meant someone was dead. Wedge hated that. "Sorry, Wes. Wish I could take you on leave with me."

"Shut up. Quit trying to make me jealous and come have a cup of caf while you wait for Wedge."

Ten mintues later, my spirits raised, I went looking for Wedge. My heels clicked as I strolled down the corridor. Out of uniform, technically on leave, Wes was jealous as hell, yep, life was good. Even the prospect of Wedge in a bad mood didn’t daunt me. I had to give Wes some credit for that; he was always fun to be around. His constant flirting, though occasionally irksome, usually made me feel special, though I figured he had no interest. He liked women to be hologenic and eager; I was neither. I did sometimes wonder about the possibility; he was a good looking-man: dark hair, blue eyes, totally ripped.

I dismissed that thought. I only wanted to kick back for the evening and torment Wes some more. I didn’t need another complicated relationship... thing... whatever. I just had to run this little errand, give these datacards to Wedge, and have a nice long talk about Coruscant to clear the air.

Now, if I could just find his office. In order to catch Warlord Zsinj, Wedge’s new squadron, the Wraiths, were pretending to be a band of pirates called the Hawk-Bats. Their base was top secret, and I had never seen it before. Down the corridor a door slid open and a dejected looking member of Wraith Squadron emerged. I searched for his name, and drawing a blank, glanced at his rank insignia. "Lieutenant."

He looked up and snapped me a salute. "Commander."

"Is this Commander Antilles’ office?"

"Yes ma’am, but..." there was a sudden crash from inside the office and the poor Wraith winced.

"I see. Thanks, Lieutenant." As he walked swiftly away, I pressed the comm by the door.

"Go away. That’s an order, Janson."

"Open the door, Wedge." There was a long pause.

"Soral?"

"In the flesh." I waited. "Are you going to open this door or what?"

I could hear him sigh. It sounded like he had his head laying on the desk right by the comm unit. We were both silent for an extended moment as I wracked my brain for something to say. I jumped when his voice crackled out again.

"How do I lose so many?"

"’Cause you command lunatics?" Good answer? Bad answer? Sithspit! I don’t know. Say something, Wedge

That sick sounding laugh might have been a response. "Go away, Soral."

"Wedge?"

"Go. Away."

Uh-huh. I turned back the way I came, head spinning. I’d seen him angry before, but he’d never directed it at me. He always wanted to work through it, talk it out with someone, usually me. He’d never hid behind a door.

Son of a hutt! I palmed the door key, on the off chance that it was unlocked. It slid open with a hiss.

Wedge sat, as I’d suspected, with his head on the desktop, arms stretched across it. The wall behind him was dented slightly from some object hitting it with quite a bit of force. Surrounding the desk lay everything that should have been on it, apparently thrown about in that snit the unfortunate Lieutenant and I heard. I stepped cautiously across the threshold and closed the door. His shoulders shook with laughter.

"You’ve always been stubborn."

"Yes, I have." I stood across the room, unsure if I should approach him or not. Any other time I would have, but any other time he would not have told me to go away. Whatever was eating him on Coruscant hadn’t left yet.

He sighed. "I used to like that about you. Will you hand me my blaster?"

"No."

"I’m not going to kill you. I’m just going to stun you."

"Wedge."

"Will you stun me, then?" He might have meant it as a joke, but his voice was pitiful. I crossed the floor and laid my hand on his shoulder. The tension there was unbelievable. I moved behind him and gently rubbed his shoulders, working the knots out of them. His groan vibrated through his body; I knew the sound well and loved it. My hands moved lower, pressing hard against his tight muscles. For a while there was no sound but our breathing.

"I lost another one." Wedge’s voice sounded painfully loud in the stillness. He sat up and turned his chair to face me. I wanted to flinch away from the pain, the anger in his eyes. I had a sudden panicking urge to back as far away as I could--out the door maybe--in case he decided to continue destroying his office. What could I say to ease this for him? Nothing.

"Nothing," I whispered. Wedge’s forehead creased; I hadn’t meant to speak aloud. I knelt at his feet and took his hands in mine. "Nothing I say can help you. You know that; it never has before. It’s never easy, and that’s a good thing, Wedge. You aren’t so jaded that this is business as usual." His eyes clouded. "You still leave your heart open and..." I broke off as he stood and stepped away from me. His shoulders were tense again; he looked like a thread pulled too tight. For a moment I was afraid to move. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but something I said had angered him and... his eyes, gods, who is behind his eyes? He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, staring at me, piercing me, pinning me to the floor where I knelt.

"Why are you here?" It wasn’t even his voice, it was deeper, angrier.

"I had to bring these datacards," I replied, confused. He knew that already. Why was he asking? "This couldn’t be transmitted; Zsinj might have..." he shifted impatiently.

"I know. But anyone could have brought those. Why are _you_ here?"

I looked down, unable to meet his gaze, and felt very small, like an unwelcome child. Damn him. I was trying to help, yet I felt that I’d wronged him somehow, that my presence offended him. And I was still on the floor like a penitent.

I stood and glared at him. "I came to see you. I guess that was a mistake." I dropped the datacards on the desk and headed for the door. Whatever friendship we had seemed to dissolve; at the moment, I didn’t even like him.

"Don’t you walk out on me."

I know he didn’t just say that. I reached for the door controls.

"Soral. Don’t you dare walk out on me."

Now I’m really pissed. Does he want to see if a grown man can fit in the storage compartment of an X-Wing? I hesitated for a moment. Should I turn and confront him or keep going and really annoy him?

The door slid open and I left him there.

Continued in Part Two