"...Two fighters against a Star Destoyer?"

"Sure." Wes looking annoyed when I brush Zev’s cheek. The older man grinning, patting my head "I meant for me."

Screeching in my ears they’ve learned well, too far out for the ion cannon to scare them now. Xiiro "I can’t hold it!" Xiiro... swear to gods I only looked down for a second, didn’t mean it forgive please... Dack... forgive me didn’t want to hate you and it’s too late lost so many...Zev... your wife won’t understand why you’re gone should have been with her not fighting in the snow all of them gone... Eighen...

"Wake up, Soral. C’mon, wake up." Slowly the voice permeated the nightmare and drew her back to the present. Soral opened her eyes cautiously to see her bunkmate, Ayran Trisdal, leaning over her. She raised her hand and gingerly touched her cheek.

"My face hurts."

"Sorry." The blonde woman raked a hand through her hair. "I had to slap you, you were screaming bloody murder." The smaller woman nodded, then wandered to the ‘fresher station to splash water on her burning face. Ayran watched her for a moment. "Do you want to talk?"

"’Bout what?" Soral grabbed a towel and patted her face dry, then sat back down on her bunk and reached for a jumpsuit.

"Look, it’s... hard, I know. For all of us. We all lost friends." Ayran observed her carefully. "I know we don’t exactly get along, so maybe I’m not the best person for this, but I think you should find someone you trust and talk this out."

Soral looked up, a humorless smile on her face. "Someone I trust?" She laughed to herself. "Yeah. I’ll do that. Thanks."

Her bunkmate raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. She ought to be used to Soral by now. "All right. Do you want some caf?"

"No, thanks," she finished zipping her jumpsuit. "I think I’ll take a walk."

"Um, don’t worry if I’m not here when you get back." Soral turned and the blonde woman blushed to the roots of her hair. "I’m meeting an, um... friend. So,"

"Yeah. Have fun." The door opened and Soral stepped into the passageway. Her bunkmate was correct; they weren’t close and weren’t likely to become so. How stupid. I have nightmares over people I barely knew, why would I risk making, and losing, a real friend?

It was the first night after the Hoth evacuation. The Rebels had lost many; pilots, mechanics, top brass. Princess Leia was missing, as was Captain Solo, but many had hope that they were safe, that the Corellian had somehow pulled off one of his miracles. Commander Luke Skywalker was also gone, but reports said he’d made it off-planet safely, so there was some hope for him as well. But the total dead ran high, too high.

There was a makeshift lounge down the corridor from Soral’s quarters, filled with dejected Rebels. She paused at the door, then went on. It seemed that everyone had already paired up--unable to drink while on alert status, they’d found the only other form of oblivion available to them. Unfortunately, it seemed that participants were required to make conversation, at least for a little while, and Soral didn’t think she was up to the challenge.

The hangar. How did I get here? It’s the last place I want to be. It was too empty, missing the fighters and ships that the Hoth base had been home to. Soral found her X-Wing and began a careful walkabout, using the familiar checklist to calm herself. Out of habit, she pressed close to the starboard S-foil so she wouldn’t bump into Xiiro’s wing. The sudden realization that his fighter wasn’t there, wasn’t ever going to be there again, fell like a stone into the pit of her stomach and she leaned against her ship wearily.

Wedge Antilles ran his hand over the forward fuselage of his fighter, noting the new carbon scoring. He wondered if pounding his fist against it would make him feel any better. Probably not. I’d just get more wounds they can’t treat. He scratched at the pattern of cuts on his cheekbone, then felt guilty. At least I can feel this. I’m lucky. He didn’t want to think about how many people hadn’t been lucky that day.

Soft footsteps moved down the aisle, and he looked up to see a young woman with dark, curly hair pass by. He thought of calling out to her but decided against it. Soral never seemed to need anyone around her. She was really only friendly with Wes Janson and Zev Senesca, and even Wes said that he didn’t know her well, that she was too guarded. Hah. "Guarded" isn’t quite accurate. "Remote," maybe. "Abrasive," definitely. Not that he didn’t like her, sort of. She was a good pilot, and she did show the occasional spark of humor when she helped Janson with his jokes.

Sounds from her direction indicated that she was inspecting her craft, too. Wedge started to leave when a quiet sigh floated to his ears. It seemed so unlike her that he followed the sound to its source. Soral leaned against her X-Wing, looking terribly small and tired. She didn’t seem to notice him there, but turned and walked into the main aisle of the hanger.

Stars shimmered brightly outside the magcon field. The hangar was chilly, and Soral rubbed her arms as she pondered the expanse of space, wondering how many more stars burst into existence after the battle. The souls of heroes light the sky. Where are you, Zev? Do you shine over us here? Her eyes searched out the brightest star in the heavens. Are you there, Eighen? Light the way for our Princess, for all who haven’t found their way here. Keep us close; keep us safe. Forgive me. Her rage built as the full weight of the dead pressed in on her. A scream built in her chest as she fought to maintain her composure.

A hand clamped onto her shoulder, and Soral jumped and turned toward her attacker. She struck out blindly and felt a hand grab hold of her wrist, then twist her arm behind her, holding her against an iron-strong chest.

"It’s OK, Soral. Calm down." Wedge held the struggling pilot tightly, trying not to hurt her. He was startled by her frightened reaction, just as he’d been to see her sorrowful before. She was among allies, what was there to fear? He spoke to her as he would a skittish wilder-nerf and felt her relax.

She pulled away from him then and swiped at her eyes, humiliated that she’d lost control in public. Wedge caught her face in his hands and brushed the dampness away with his thumb, surprised by her sudden vulnerability, and more so by his reaction to it. She looked up at him with eyes that were not glittering cold, as he expected, but a warm brown that drew him closer. His hands slipped down her neck, over her shoulders to caress her back and pull her against his chest.

"Captain?" Soral’s voice was muffled against his jumpsuit. Her body was stiff with surprise. She’d expected a reprimand, at the very least, for striking at an officer; she certainly hadn’t anticipated being held so tightly she couldn’t squeak out a protest. Wes might have done it, maybe even Commander Skywalker, who was so warm to everybody, but not Captain Antilles. Not that he’d ever been cold or unkind toward her, he just didn’t seem the type to hug a pilot in the middle of a hanger, especially one who’d just tried to punch his lights out.

The hangar was silent, and time stretched out. Wedge felt his own anger draining away as he concentrated on the young woman before him. She called him by rank, but he ignored her, fearing that if he let her go she’d close herself off again. What he’d seen in her eyes was so unlike the cold, aloof pilot he thought she was. As long as he’d known her, she only seemed to open up when helping Janson pull his stupid pranks. For the first time he wondered if someone else hid behind those eyes.

Slowly, Soral relaxed. She couldn’t figure why Captain Antilles was holding her, but she did feel better being close to someone. It had been too long since she’d had any real connection with another person, and she’d forgotten how good it felt. The couples in the lounge had obviously realized the healing power of physical contact, perhaps that’s that she needed. She thought of the man holding her. Perhaps he needed it too.

Wedge loosened his hold as the tightness left her body. He rubbed her back comfortingly, then caught sight of the few others milling around the hangar. The thought of what this must look like made him chuckle. "The mechanics are going to tell us to get a room," he murmured into her ear.

She looked up and searched his eyes. To her mind, the anger and pain there were reflections of her own emotions. "Would you like that?" she asked quietly, not certain what answer she wanted.

Wedge blinked. He hadn’t meant it to sound that way. Sure, he had glanced her way once or twice, but never made any advances; she was too caustic and unapproachable. Yet here she was, willing and wanting.

And hurting. He mentally shook himself. She was wounded, seeking comfort wherever she could. He shouldn’t take advantage of her, but the feel of her against him and the look in her eyes kept him from pulling away. His hands moved without his permission; tilting her head back, he kissed her gently. She’s a big girl; she knows what she wants... and I know what I want. I want to see what other expressions can flash through those eyes His voice was gruff. "I'd like that very much. But Janson... he's entertaining."

Taking his hand, Soral pulled him out of the hangar, trying to banish all thoughts from her mind. She led him silently through the maze to her quarters, wondering if he would change his mind and pull away. As she keyed in the door code and turned to look at him, she realized that she needn’t have worried. He was breathing heavily and his body was responding rapidly to the promise of release. Men. They’re so easy.

The room was semi-dark; a steady glow from the refesher station illuminated the furniture and cast a pale glow over Soral’s face. Wedge reached for the light panel and felt her soft hand cover his. "Please. Leave them out." He thought of protesting, but her fingers brushed his lips, then her mouth covered his as her hands went to work on his jumpsuit. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him as he devoured her mouth. She felt warmth spread through her body and converge between her thighs as she pulled the garment off his shoulders, exposing his muscular chest.

Wedge broke the kiss and hastily peeled the jumpsuit off, feeling his pulse race as Soral stepped back and languidly toyed with the fasteners of her own clothing. He watched her slowly strip for him, the dim lighting making her seem ghostly and insubstantial, hiding the details of her body from his hungry eyes. The mystery drove him wild; he had to touch her, explore her, watch her melt for him.

He couldn’t see the way her fingers trembled, or the nervous expression on her face. Soral dropped the last of her clothing to the floor and gazed at the figure standing motionless by the door. The sound of his breathing broke the quiet of the room and reassured her as she held out her hand. He came to her immediately, taking her in his arms as he tasted her skin, trailing hot kisses down her neck.

Her hands tangled in his hair as he moved lower, lavishing kisses on her breasts and stomach, squeezing her backside. Wedge slid down her body to kneel before her. He looked up; her face was unreadable in the darkness. He placed light, delicate kisses to her inner thighs, noting with pleasure how she opened for him. She gasped when his tongue parted her lips and lapped at the nectar seeping from her body. Her scent inflamed him and he buried his face in her, delving deep into her core.

Soral felt his tongue leave her center to tease her swollen nub. He slipped first one finger, then another, inside her, rubbing gently against that spot that made her knees weak. Her thighs trembled uncontrollably, and she gripped his shoulders for balance, digging her fingernails into his flesh. Wedge hissed sharply and pressed harder, bringing her quickly to the edge, then sending her over. She cried out harshly, feeling her pent-up aggression burned away in one eternal moment of pleasure.

His strong arms wrapped around her waist as her tremors subsided. Wedge leaned his cheek against her stomach, feeling her flesh quiver at his touch. She carefully brushed the tips of her fingers over the crescent-shaped wounds in his shoulders, noting by the dim light that he wasn’t bleeding. Her hands caressed his face, raising it as she bent to press her lips to his. Their tongues danced, then Wedge moaned quietly and Soral pulled away, taking his hand and leading him to the bed.

The sheets were cool against his hot skin as Wedge fell back, letting her take the lead. Her mouth explored his skin, eagerly searching out the spots that made him groan while her hands massaged his lean frame. Her curly hair brushed lightly against his sides, awakening nerves he’d never paid attention to before. The constant stimulation maddened him, and he reached for her, pulling her back up his length before she reached her goal.

A small reading lamp stood beside the bed, and he reached toward it, catching her hand before she could stop him, kissing her palm. His voice was rough with need. "I want to see you. I want to see your eyes." He switched the lamp on and feasted on the sight of her. She knelt above him, the soft light making her sweat-slicked skin glisten. Her hair that had teased him so wonderfully fell over her shoulders and down her chest, rising and falling with each breath. She met his gaze boldly, eyes dark with lust.

His hands cupped her breasts, rolling her hardened nipples between thumb and forefinger as he watched her reaction. Her eyelids fluttered shut for an instant, then opened and locked on his again, letting him see the delight shining there. Wedge continued to stroke her, moving slowly down her body to grasp her hips. She guided him to the source of her need, then lowered herself, gasping as he filled her.

It was difficult not to close her eyes then, not to hide in this intimate moment. Soral had never bared herself so completely, never been with a man who gave a fig what she felt once he was inside her. Wedge caressed her cheek, softly speaking her name, and she wanted to hold onto that sound forever. Pushing back her uncertainty, she opened her eyes.

Wedge caught his breath at the unnamed emotion flashing within the brown depths. A raging fire burned there, consuming him as he thrust into her. Her sheath tightened and relaxed rhythmically, as though she were trying to draw him deeper. Soral concentrated on the unbearable pleasure of their joining, reveling in the friction between them. The pressure inside her built swiftly and held her at the peak of agony. Wedge ran his hands over her body, kneading her breasts, then one hand slid down her chest to the spot where their bodies met. His thumb pressed against her clit, forcing a small scream from her lips.

She rocked forward against his thumb, abandoning herself to the flames that licked at her body, sending her higher. Wedge thrust deeper, faster, as they rocked together, never taking his eyes from her face. Her hands gripped his forearms, squeezing his triceps as her vagina convulsed around him. Her breath came in whimpers, building to one long, low moan that filled his ears as he spilled into her, lost to everything but the feel of her milking him dry.

An eternity stretched out as they held themselves rigid, then Soral collapsed onto his chest. He held her tightly as his breathing returned to normal, stroking her back tenderly. She sighed contentedly, then rolled over to lay on the sheets beside him. Slowly, thought returned to her, and with it came embarrassment and an insufferable rage at herself.

Wedge felt the bed shift, and opened his eyes to see Soral heading toward the ‘fresher. She didn’t speak or turn back to him, just slid the door shut behind her. A moment later, the sound of a sonic shower reached his ears. He stood, wondering if he should join her, then realized that if she wanted company she would have invited him in. For a few minutes he wasn’t sure what to do with himself, then an idea crossed his mind and he hurriedly threw on his clothes and snuck out the door.

What I’d give for a real water shower. Scalding water, preferably. Soral clenched her fists and leaned against the wall, trying to quiet the fury she felt. That was fucking moronic. I have to look at that guy every day, knowing he’s seen me weak. It wasn’t just the sex, it was that she’d let go, let him in, and he’d seen it. She’d made a point of not getting close to anyone, then she’d blown it by just opening her eyes.

She threw on a shirt and a pair of sleep pants, then poked her head into the bedroom. He was gone. She palmed on the light and felt relief washed over her, followed very quickly by a confusing feeling of disappointment. So like a man. Oh well, at least I don’t have to deal with him right away. Still... he could have said goodbye. Whatever. Soral pulled the sheets off the bed and dumped them in the bag to be given to the laundry droid. She was just tucking the fresh sheets under the mattress when the door buzzer sounded. Surprised, she opened the door.

"Captain?"

Wedge looked sheepishly at her and held up a folded flight jacket. "I hope you don’t think I just ran out on you. I thought you’d like this."

She took the proffered jacket, baffled. Gods. He’s not going to ask me to be his girl, is he? There was something folded inside, weighing the garment down.

"Um, can I come in?" Wedge shifted from one foot to the other, looking down the hall.

She stepped back and waved him in, then unfolded the jacket and burst into laughter. Inside was a bottle of Whyren’s Reserve, a Corellian brandy that was highly sought after. "Aren’t we on alert status?" she asked.

He shrugged, then offered her a boyish grin. "I won’t tell if you won’t. I hid it in the storage compartment of my X-Wing."

She opened a survival pack and found a couple of collapsible cups. "Why, Captain, are you trying to get me drunk?" She arched an eyebrow at him. "I think we’ve gone past that already."

He nodded and accepted a cup of the brandy, feeling suddenly unsettled. She’d switched off while he was gone; now she was on autopilot with her real self buried again. He’d hoped she wouldn’t feel a need to do that. Now he wondered if he was welcome in her quarters, or if she wanted him to leave.

Soral sipped the drink, watching him furtively. What was he doing? Why had he come back? She was annoyed to find that she wasn’t too terribly irritated with him; in fact, she was glad he hadn’t just run off. This feeling disturbed her. Normally, she would revert to her usual sarcastic demeanor when agitated, but she didn’t want to insult a superior officer. Anyway, that’s how she rationalized her mostly courteous behavior.

They sat together on her bed, talking of small subjects--what fighters they preferred, what planets each had visited, whether Janson would ever grow up--carefully avoiding any mention of the war or what they’d just done. Soral choked back several caustic comments, but couldn’t contain them all. Wedge laughed at some, but finally he had to call her on it.

"You don’t have to be sarcastic about everything, you know."

"But why ever not?" The alcohol was doing it’s job; she didn’t really care if she was being rude.

"Because it’s not what you really want to say." Wedge looked at her seriously, hoping she didn’t get mad and kick him out.

Soral leaned back against the wall and glared at him over the top of her cup. "How do you know what I want to say? Just because it’s not what you say, Captain..."

"I’ve seen your eyes, Soral. I know who you really are."

"Please. You’ve seen my eyes? That tells you nothing about me."

"It tells me you’re scared of people."

She scowled at him. "There is nothing about most people that’s even worth respect, let alone fear. Look again."

"If you feel that way, why are you in the Rebellion? You should have respect for the life-forms you’re defending." Wedge gave her a superior look, then winced as she smacked his arm. She opened her mouth, then shut it and looked away. They sat in stony silence for several minutes, then Wedge also leaned back and adopted a comfortable pose.

"My name is Wedge, by the way."

"Huh?" She frowned at him.

"My first name. It’s Wedge."

"I know your name!" She clearly thought he was dumb as a mynock.

He shrugged easily, then smiled at her. "I wasn’t sure. You’ve never said it. You don’t have to call me ‘Captain’ all the time; no one else does."

Her answering smile turned into a sneer. "I’m not everyone else."

"That’s right," Wedge agreed. "You’re damned annoying. And standoffish. And rude." She gaped at him. "But you’re a good pilot."

"Thank you. Sir." Her voice was ice cold. She turned her head, wondering if it would be insubordination to toss him out the door. His arm draped over her shoulder, and she jumped and resisted when he tried to pull her closer. He gave up and stroked her cheek, turning her face toward him.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet and gentle. "Look, Soral. I don’t know why you keep everyone away. You can tell me if you want, but I won’t push you. What I will do, though, is call you out every time I see you do it." She tried to jerk her chin away, but he held firm.

"There are good people here, people who’d like to know the real you if you’ll let them. Just give us a chance. We won’t hurt you. I won’t hurt you." She couldn’t look him in the eye. Something inside told her that he was a good man, that she could trust him and he wouldn’t leave her stranded, but she didn’t want to let go of her defenses. She’d had them too long.

The next time he tried to embrace her, she didn’t fight. She leaned against his chest, trying to sort through her conflicting thoughts and emotions. The weight of his hand stroking her hair was both relaxing and uncomfortably familiar, and she willed herself not to tense up. He means it, I know he does, but what good will that do if he dies? I’ve already lost too many people to the Empire, by violent ends and by their own choice. I can’t do it again. And yet... and yet he was there, and it was so easy to lean against him.

"Wedge?"

He shifted slightly and looked at her upturned face. "Hmm?"

She felt like an idiot. "Will you stay with me, just for tonight?"

He smiled and kissed the top of her head. "And tomorrow night, if you like."

The mask struggled to descend over her features again. Finally she answered honestly, "Let’s let tomorrow take care of itself."

Wedge nodded, sprinkling kisses over her face as he lowered her to the bed. She didn’t shy away from the lights as they made love, opening herself to him as much as she could. Then sleep claimed them both as Soral lay curled up next to him, her head pillowed on his chest, his heartbeat a lullaby in her ears.

The End (of that night)

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