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Author	Topic: Pieces of Air -- ESB-era short story, Luke, Leia & Han -- Complete 3 September
Knight_Aragorn Registered: Jun '03	Date Posted: 8/10/07 7:05am Subject: Pieces of Air -- ESB-era short story, Luke, Leia & Han -- Complete 3 September - Date Edited: 9/3/07 3:31am (3 edits total) Edited By: Knight_Aragorn
	Title: Pieces of Air Author: Knight_Aragorn Setting: Hoth, before Empire Strikes Back Characters: Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Wedge Antilles, OCs Summary: Luke finds that healing isn't always straight-forward. A/N: I'm not sure how well this story works, as it's fairly introspective and emotionally quite dark (in an angst sense, not a dark!Luke sense, sorry ). There will probably be about four parts all up, depending on how I end up doing section breaks. As always, feedback is highly appreciated. PIECES OF AIR Pain. Pain was all Luke knew the instant he woke: pain red-hot and blinding, filling the universe, destroying everything in its wake. Or so it felt. It took a few minutes for the pain to subside to a level that was, if not exactly manageable, less all-consuming. Luke clenched his teeth, waiting for his vision to clear. He wore a helmet. He was in a vehicle. Not an X-Wing. Probably an airspeeder, one of the T-47s. He must have landed badly. The viewscreen was cracked, the controls and the front of the ship buckled. There was snow outside. The face-shield on his helmet was cracked. What else? It felt like there was blood on his face. Numbness – right arm. Burning pain in his stomach. Pain in his legs, unable to move them. The front of the ship had buckled around his legs; he was trapped. Luke tried to move the lower half of his body, testing whether he could free his legs. The small cockpit was cramped, even more so than usual, bent and buckled by the force of impact. His body was wedged tight. Pain made him haze out for a moment; movement hurt, a lot. That wasn’t good. There was a sound behind him as the pain subsided again. Not the groan of stressed metal; a human sound, harsh breathing. He abruptly remembered: T-47s were routinely manned by a pilot and a gunner. He licked his lips, tasted blood. “Pag?” His voice was a croak, barely audible. Luke focused on making it clearer. “Pag, you with me?” There was a faint sound from behind, a catch in that breathing. “Right… here,” came a slow, slow reply. Luke could hear how much it was costing the other man to speak. “How you doing?” “Not… so good.” “Hold on.” Luke blinked, trying to focus on the buckled controls swimming before the cracked visor of his helmet. There was a light blinking on the comm controls. “Distress signal’s activated… they’ll find us soon.” “… hope you’re right.” So did Luke. Given the condition the panel was in, there was no telling whether the signal was actually working. He had to believe it was, though. He tried to find the words to reassure Pag, but couldn’t gather enough strength to speak again. “… mander?” He was suddenly aware of Pag’s voice, barely audible against the sound of wind outside the fuselage of the ship. “…thought… left me …” “Sorry,” Luke muttered. He must have drifted; how long had he been out? Not good. He had to keep track of time. He realised he was shivering. Even in bulky cold-weather wear, the temperature was well below freezing. “ …’s cold,” he said. Blinking at the ruined controls, he tried to locate the environmental systems. His fingers, clad in heavy gloves, wouldn’t seem to obey his instructions at first, but he finally managed to hit the button for warmth. Nothing happened. “… systems’s not working,” he said aloud. “ ’m warm,” Pag said, his voice faint. “Pag?” Luke blinked, alarm forcing him to increased awareness. “Stay with me.” There was no reply. Luke said, “Pag!” “…yeah, yeah.” The other man’s voice was hard to hear. “I’m here.” Luke knew he should try to talk, do something to keep them both alert. He tried to think of something to say. His brain didn’t want to cooperate either; his thoughts kept blanking out. He didn’t know Pag all that well. The man had been with the Rogues a few months. Luke couldn’t even remember where he’d come from. Did he have a family somewhere? He tried to focus enough to ask, but he was so tired, and then he forgot the question. “… can’t feel anymore…” Luke blinked, for a moment unable to remember where he was, who was speaking, why he hurt so much. “What?” he said, or tried to. His tongue and lips felt swollen, numb, strange. Why was it so cold? “Can’t feel anything,” the other man said. “I…” Luke looked around, bewildered. He tried to lift his hand, but it wouldn’t move. His other hand moved, but instead of meeting his forehead, met some kind of visor. Cracked visor… helmet… “…don’t think ’s good you keep dropping out like that,” Pag was saying. Pag. Luke shifted, trying to move his legs, but they were still trapped fast. Pain bloomed again, in his stomach, his chest, his arm, through his legs, and it was all he could do to breathe. “… think they’re coming?” Pag said. “…don’t think I’ve got much longer.” The wind was stronger. It whistled through the splintered viewscreen. There was snow on Luke’s thick grey jacket now, snow spread across the buckled controls. Not so long ago, he’d been unable to imagine snow. Now he was dying in it. Was it worth it? Maybe he should have stayed back on Tatooine. Luke thought of the endless, stifling sameness of those days. No. At least this way, he’d been able to live a little of the life he’d dreamed about. He’d seen what the stars looked like from space, from other worlds. Fought for something more worthwhile than a day’s worth of moisture from arid sand. “Come on, Pag,” he managed to say. “Got a few more hits for the Empire in us. Right?” There was an odd sound from behind, a choked laugh. “Yeah,” Pag said. After a while, he spoke again. “… a few ladies on base I’d like to get to know a bit better, too.” Luke breathed a laugh. “That’s the way.” Luke could barely feel anything anymore. How many hours had passed? Or was it minutes? It didn’t take long for the temperature to drop. He was jerked back to awareness suddenly. There was something unfamiliar inside of him, something fragile tearing, a teetering on the edge of something huge and deep. “Pag?” Luke said, the word slurring from his lips. “Pag?” There was no response. The wind whirled and howled. Luke had never heard anything sound so desolate. “Pag!” Nothing. Luke tried to move again, focusing all his strength on his lower body, gritting his teeth against the pain that flared to double, triple-strength in his stomach. His vision filled with grey blotches. He couldn’t feel his legs anymore. Still he couldn’t budge the buckled metal that trapped him. He took a breath, focused as well as he could, and tried to reach for the Force as Ben had shown him. Pain instantly blossomed in his head, and he saw sharp red lines like blood and fire across the inside of his eyelids. He must have blacked out for a moment: he came back to awareness slumped across the ruined controls of the speeder. “No,” he said. “No!" He clenched his teeth. The Force felt even further away this time, but Luke pushed with all his might, spurred by the agony searing itself across his eyelids, reached and reached, until his awareness was filled with red desperate fury. Holding tenuously to that power by sheer force of will, he concentrated on the buckled controls that wedged his legs into place, on the metal that had once formed the intact nose of the speeder. Awareness of its entirety filled him: each point of stress, each fracture and crack down to the smallest fissure in the hull. His head already felt like it was about to burst, but Luke pushed his will forward, grasping that twisted mass of metal and applying all the pressure he could to move it. Instantly it was as though a thousand heated knives burst against his mind; the pain before had been nothing next to the agony that felt ready to split his temples now. The Force slipped away and Luke slumped forward over the controls. He came to awareness with blood trickling from his nose. He could barely feel anything at all, and couldn’t gather the energy to move. He lay against the hardness of the controls, knobs pressing into his face, and watching snow drift outside the window. He thought he saw shapes in the whiteness. He thought he saw Beru’s face, then his uncle’s, and thought of what they might think to see him here. Maybe you were right, Uncle Owen, he thought. Maybe I should have stayed on Tatooine. But you’d never have believed there could be so much snow in one place, huh? After a while he thought he saw other shapes in the white. They were bulky shapes, human-like but unnatural that walked bent here and there. He couldn’t make out features. They made him think of Tusken Raiders, with their strange shape, but that was absurd. Raiders couldn’t be here… wherever he was. He knew, but it slipped away from him. Uncle Owen always said you’d be surprised where they turned up. Owen had been afraid of few things, but he was afraid of Sandpeople. ... What was he thinking? Sandpeople, that was what those shapes were. If there were Sandpeople, he had to be on Tatooine, and the snow was not snow but sand. Sand was everywhere, and he was cold, but now he was hot. He thought he saw a face. It looked like Han’s. Then there was pain, and more pain, and Luke decided that he’d had enough. “I’ve got you, kid,” said the Han-Tusken-thing. “I’ve got you.” Luke believed him. He let go, and there was blessed darkness, free of pain. Luke woke in a bed, his mind full of vague half-memories, pain and movement and people and voices and, oddly, a sensation of being submerged, all mixed in with nightmares of drowning. He shivered, though it wasn’t cold anymore. There was a white ceiling above. Luke blinked at it, wondering where he was and why he couldn’t quite summon the energy to find out. What he really wanted, he thought, was to sleep. There was a bright rectangular light fixed in the ceiling, and another beside it. He wasn’t in pain, though his body recalled recent pain by way of a dull, wide-spread ache. His legs felt strange. His fingers and toes and face felt odd and raw. A face came into view. Leia. Luke thought about how beautiful she looked, even with dark circles under her brown eyes. She said something about him being awake, and asked how he felt. Luke went to answer, but his mouth didn’t seem to want to work properly. Leia said something else, but Luke was drifting. I thought I’d never see you again, he thought, watching the way her lips moved. I thought I’d never see anyone again. I love you, he added to the thought. But I don’t think I’ll ever tell you that. It felt as though he was on the brink of something there, something that could be important, but it was gone before he could catch it. “…your airspeeder went down in a valley to the north,” Leia was saying. Luke heard the words, but they had no meaning to him. “We were able to track you from your last known location, and a team was sent to get you out. We didn’t know…” Luke let the words wash over him like water. After a while, he slept. It was night when he woke again, and the lights above were dimmed. He blinked in the semi-darkness. He didn’t feel so lost this time, but there was still a great deal of confusion in his memories. He thought he was alone in the dimness at first, but as he lay there, he became aware of a sense of life in the room, an awareness of another person there. His head hurt dully; Luke closed his eyes and tried to focus on pushing the pain away. He opened them again. Han was sitting across the room, his chair tilted on its back legs, his booted feet propped on an empty bed identical to the one Luke was in. He had something in his hands; it looked like a pack of flimsi-cards many of the pilots in Luke’s squadron carried with them for long flights when the view of space got too monotonous. Luke didn’t carry a pack himself; they weren’t exactly regulation, but he tended to turn a blind eye, as did many of the other commanders. He stared Han for a while, his thoughts oddly sluggish. The other man’s hands moved deftly, his eyes running over the cards, flicking from one to the next. Just like Han: always shifting from one thing to the next, his mind moving all the time, weighing people, judging balances and risk. It seemed so fragile, Luke thought. The games they played, building who they were, what they believed, in the middle of a war where it could all be gone in an instant and all that would be left were memories, so flimsy and forlorn. Han felt his gaze, maybe, for he looked up from his game, a frown creasing his forehead. His eyes fell on Luke and he lifted his feet from the bed, abandoning the flimsy-cards. “Hey,” he said. “Leia said you were awake earlier.” Luke closed his eyes. His head still hurt, and his strange moment of insight was gone. Han said something about how they’d found the airspeeder, something about it being half-buried in snow and rock, something about Luke being lucky. Luke licked his lips, remembered doing the same in the airspeeder, remembered the cold and the coppery taste of blood. “Pag?” he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. “The gunner?” Han hesitated. His face was partly lit in the dimness, and Luke saw the moment of uncertainty in his features, the rawness of unhidden concern. Luke shut his eyes. “He didn’t make it,” Han said, but Luke already knew. “Sorry, Luke.” “I…” It was hard to speak; Luke’s throat hurt, his mouth was dry. “I know. I heard him die behind me.” He went to continue, but couldn’t; the words weren’t there. He turned his face away. There was a long silence. Han spoke into it eventually. “It was a close call for you, too.” Luke said nothing. He could hear Pag’s ragged breathing, harsh over the desolate sound of the wind. Could feel the pain in his own body, the cold, the way it ate at him, seeped into his skin and his mind. Pag’s breathing, in and out. The snow, falling through the broken viewscreen, drifting lightly to rest on the twisted controls, melting against smeared blood. Pag’s breathing. He couldn’t even remember what the man looked like before they left. There was an odd sound. Luke realised it was him. Tears were on his cheeks, burning in his throat, searing his chest. Each sob sent waves of pain throughout his body. Luke didn’t know if Han could hear him. It didn’t matter. He closed his eyes, hearing silence in his memory. A/N: Update within the next few days, hopefully. -----signature----- Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so. Pieces of Air (ESB short story, complete) - http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/27283200/p1
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VaderLVR64 Title: Fan Fic Manager in Combat Boots Registered: Feb '04	Date Posted: 8/10/07 7:12am Subject: RE: Pieces of Air -- ESB-era short story, Luke, Leia & Han
	I've got to go pick up a birthday cake, or I'd leave a longer review, but I'll just say "Please PM me!" for now! This looks amazing, but that's no surprise at all! -----signature----- If you have to choose between tears and laughter, remember that laughter burns more calories. Proud New Army Mom - off to bootcamp!
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Jade_eyes Registered: Aug '04	Date Posted: 8/10/07 7:59am Subject: RE: Pieces of Air -- ESB-era short story, Luke, Leia & Han
	You got the characters perfectly, as always. I've been dying for Luke fic or fics in this timeframe. He's ... adorable in a fresh kinda way here. Growing and maturing but not weighed down, though of course Pag's death is gonna have a strong emotional impact. Very vivid images and emotions. PM's, please? SQUEE!! -----signature----- Luke/Mara--without end forever ginchy, Irish =I Squggles before I read a word
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divapilot Registered: Nov '05	Date Posted: 8/10/07 8:30am Subject: RE: Pieces of Air -- ESB-era short story, Luke, Leia & Han
	Wonderful! As I expected it would be, with you at the pen. This is a sort of coming of age story, isn't it, where Luke starts to question a lot of his choices. Your descriptions are first rate, and the details (like Han playing some sort of GFFA solitare) are perfect. I'm definitely looking foreward to the next installment! -----signature----- Never tell me the odds. AKL "Beyond the Wall" http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/28964433/p1/?6 The Society for Girls Who Like Things that Go Boom. (M. Corde, Pres.) "This is your badness level." ~ Lilo!
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Golden_Jedi Registered: Jun '05	Date Posted: 8/10/07 9:49am Subject: RE: Pieces of Air -- ESB-era short story, Luke, Leia & Han
	Wow! This is just... perfect! I can't say more. I love this 'stage' of Luke too and I look forward to read what you have to say about it. PM me when you update, please? -----signature----- The country is that place where chickens walk around uncooked - Julio Cortázar Unexpected Blossom http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/28693266 Sailing Little Boats http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/28747916
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dancing_star Registered: Feb '07	Date Posted: 8/10/07 12:02pm Subject: RE: Pieces of Air -- ESB-era short story, Luke, Leia & Han
	Wow! This is just... perfect! I can't say more. I completely agree. Perfection! Please add me to the pm list... and post more very soon! Wonderful! -----signature----- See my updated bio for fics God bless America and our troops. "The LORD gives strength to his people. The LORD blesses his people with peace." Ps 29:11 ~~~ Drabbles!! http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/29148282/p1/?9
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dm1 Registered: Jun '04	Date Posted: 8/10/07 3:15pm Subject: RE: Pieces of Air -- ESB-era short story, Luke, Leia & Han
	Please PM me when this updates; you've got a great start here! -----signature----- Internet Mom to HSG! Hey, HSG, watch those explosives, be careful!!
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RebelMom Title: TFF Secretary Registered: Apr '00	Date Posted: 8/10/07 9:56pm Subject: RE: Pieces of Air -- ESB-era short story, Luke, Leia & Han
	Wonderful job with the angst, as per your usual. I love Luke at this stage of his life. -----signature----- Short Story: Pressure Point http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/26961243/p1/?7 Jacen Solo and Anakin Skywalker - as it should have been. TFF: Cheryl
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StarFighter5 Registered: Jul '03	Date Posted: 8/10/07 10:02pm Subject: RE: Pieces of Air -- ESB-era short story, Luke, Leia & Han
	I love this because I can feel Luke's emotion and pain as if it were my own and that is what I enjoy the most about good fanfiction. -----signature----- "I hope I slept with you to get the job. if not, then who the hell was that guy?" - Carrie Fisher "Now that I'm a pez and a lego, I shall want for nothing else." -Jeremy Bulloch "Thank you for going to the movies. Especially mine." - George Lucas
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dianethx Registered: Mar '02	Date Posted: 8/11/07 2:47pm Subject: RE: Pieces of Air -- ESB-era short story, Luke, Leia & Han
	This was so poignant. I loved how you wrote the first part with very short sentences - like we were right there inside Luke's head. His awareness growing in and out and the loss of Pag that he had to face. I loved how he woke up and was still confused, seeing Han there. Loved this. It seemed so fragile, Luke thought. The games they played, building who they were, what they believed, in the middle of a war where it could all be gone in an instant and all that would be left were memories, so flimsy and forlorn. That insight might come back to him again. Great job. Please PM me with updates. -----signature----- Betrayal - http://boards.theforce.net/s/b1/10935143 updated 9/22/08 Fragments of Illusion- http://boards.theforce.net/bts/b10475/28456473 updated 8/16/08 Freeze frame - http://boards.theforce.net/s/b10476/27820434 Master to jedidas3 Impeach Bush!
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alhana_antilles Registered: Aug '02	Date Posted: 8/11/07 3:28pm Subject: RE: Pieces of Air -- ESB-era short story, Luke, Leia & Han - Date Edited: 8/11/07 4:23pm (1 edits total) Edited By: alhana_antilles
	You've got a solid start. I'm looking forward to more. -----signature----- Buaidh no bas Wraith 10 of XWSFC Member of the Chewbacca Fanclub "Brothers don't whistle while they work, Jon."- Larry Wilmore, The Daily Show
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MotionWright Registered: Mar '07	Date Posted: 8/11/07 4:07pm Subject: RE: Pieces of Air -- ESB-era short story, Luke, Leia & Han
	Excellent characterisation of Luke. Pag's last moments and Luke's hallucinations felt poignantly real. PM me when you update, please. -----signature----- About Fathers: http://boards.theforce.net/f/b1/27051840
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Tahi Registered: Jun '02	Date Posted: 8/12/07 5:45pm Subject: RE: Pieces of Air -- ESB-era short story, Luke, Leia & Han
	Yay - you've started posting this. e was jerked back to awareness suddenly. There was something unfamiliar inside of him, something fragile tearing, a teetering on the edge of something huge and deep. Fantastic description of how death feels in the Force - even though it's sad. I thought the conversation between Luke and Pag was excellent and very realistic. I also liked the way you showed his delirium with the confusion between Hoth and Tatooine. I love you, he added to the thought. But I don’t think I’ll ever tell you that. It felt as though he was on the brink of something there, something that could be important, but it was gone before he could catch it. Loved that bit - it was very poignant. He stared Han for a while, his thoughts oddly sluggish. The other man’s hands moved deftly, his eyes running over the cards, flicking from one to the next. Just like Han: always shifting from one thing to the next, his mind moving all the time, weighing people, judging balances and risk. It seemed so fragile, Luke thought. The games they played, building who they were, what they believed, in the middle of a war where it could all be gone in an instant and all that would be left were memories, so flimsy and forlorn. Brilliant! It catches his mood perfectly in that moment - kind of negative. So his insights are tinged with that same negativity. It makes me realise that Luke must have gone through many periods like this where he kind of lost faith. That final bit was very emotionally charged. I think the idea of showing us so much through Luke's pov is an excelllent device. This is great - and I am totally hooked. No surprise of course. -----signature----- Anahiri #6 http://boards.theforce.net/fan_fiction_resource/b10304/18446448/p33 The magazine for A/T fans Many Happy Returns http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/11018706/p81/?2011 Master to THE_PIED_PIPER
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strwbrystarshine Registered: Feb '05	Date Posted: 8/13/07 12:54am Subject: RE: Pieces of Air -- ESB-era short story, Luke, Leia & Han
	beautiful work, as always. please keep me posted! -----signature----- "Cade, you don't need spice. What you need is a good soothing cup of hot chocolate." Have you hugged your fan fiction author today? ~Fics in Profile~
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Knight_Aragorn Registered: Jun '03	Date Posted: 8/15/07 4:37am Subject: RE: Pieces of Air -- ESB-era short story, Luke, Leia & Han
	VaderLVR64: No problem, will PM. Jade_eyes: Thanks, will do. divapilot: Thanks for reading! More very soon. Golden_Jedi: ESB Luke seems to be quite popular... Thanks, will PM you. dancing_star: Thank you. Will add you to the list. dm1: Thanks! Glad you enjoyed the beginning. RebelMom: I can never resist the angst for too long. Thanks! StarFighter5: Thank you - it was a little awkward to write because Luke was hazing in a out, so I'm glad it managed to get that sense of what he was going through across. dianethx: Thank you for the feedback. Glad you enjoyed the first part - will certainly PM you with updates. alhana_antilles: Thank you. More will be up soon. MotionWright: Thank you very much! Will send you a PM. Tahi: Thank you! Luke's POV was a bit trickier than I thought, so I'm glad to hear that it worked. Glad you enjoyed it so far. Thanks for the feedback. strwbrystarshine: Thank you. Will do! -----signature----- Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so. Pieces of Air (ESB short story, complete) - http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/27283200/p1
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Knight_Aragorn Registered: Jun '03	Date Posted: 8/15/07 4:42am Subject: RE: Pieces of Air -- ESB-era short story, Luke, Leia & Han - Date Edited: 8/15/07 4:50am (1 edits total) Edited By: Knight_Aragorn
	“... grounded all the airspeeders in the fleet for the time being. It’s brought the survey missions to a halt, and Base Command aren’t too happy, but General Rieekan is insisting.” Luke shook his head in frustration. “All I remember is the controls locking up, and even that’s not very clear. It’s all a haze.” Wedge, sitting in a chair by Luke’s bed, gave him a sympathetic look. Luke didn’t like the look much. Too many people had been wearing it around him since he woke up; it made him itch in a way he couldn’t define. “It’ll come back in time.” “That’s not good enough. We don’t have time.” Luke glared at the foot of his bed. His legs were aching again. The med droid said it might be weeks before he would be fully recovered. He hadn’t even been allowed out of bed yet and he’d been awake, on and off, for three days. “I remember being in the mess hall that morning. After that it’s all a blank, except for – for random flashes, flashes that don’t tell me anything. I remember walking towards the speeder, thinking about my helmet feeling tight, I remember thinking about those manoeuvres we were doing last week as I went over that ice field we used, I remember–” swearing panicked engines spluttering sick plummeting whirling white pain red hot cold “– that’s it. That’s all I remember.” His hands, clenched around the white bedsheets, were shaking. He felt cold, even though the med bay was kept at steady room temperature. He hated snow, he’d decided. Really hated it. “That’s not unexpected, Luke,” Wedge said. The carefulness of his tone told Luke that Wedge had seen the shaking too. “You sustained pretty severe trauma back there.” “Don’t placate me, Wedge.” Luke recognised the tone of voice. He’d used it himself on occasion, knew the lines. It’s not your fault. Just concentrate on getting well. “Sorry. You know it’s true, though.” Luke shook his head, dismissing the issue. “When are they retrieving… the speeder?” The body, he thought, but it was too hard to say. Was that callous, or just cowardly? “They got it yesterday morning – it had been buried in the storm. Techs are going over it as we speak. They’ll find out what went wrong.” “It was supposed to be a routine patrol.” “Yeah. It was.” Luke stared at nothing. “Did Pag have a family?” Wedge hesitated. “I don’t know. I didn’t know him very well.” Luke closed his eyes, then opened them. “Find out for me, Wedge?” “I’ll do what I can.” “He shouldn’t have died like that.” Luke was shivering again. He clenched his fists to hide the weakness. Wedge stood. “I should go,” he said. He put a hand on Luke’s shoulder briefly, uncertainly. “Get some rest, Luke. We need our commander back.” Luke managed a nod, but didn’t look at Wedge. The other man left, the door hissing closed behind him. Leia came to see him with news that they’d discovered what had gone wrong with the speeder. Ice had formed in the drive units and under the controls, causing the malfunction that made the vehicle lose power. “It’s not your fault in any way,” Leia said, a hand on his medtunic-clad arm. Luke wondered if she’d been talking to Wedge. “You understand that, don’t you? You couldn’t have done anything. It’s a miracle that you managed to land it in more or less one piece. In the hands of a lesser pilot, it would have been destroyed on impact.” Luke forced a smile that he didn’t begin to feel. “Thank you.” Leia looked at him with a faint frown. “That’s not an answer.” He was saved from responding by Han’s entrance. The smuggler was dressed in bulky snow gear, as though he’d only just come in from outside. Luke was grateful for once for Han’s characteristic bluster; it deflected Leia’s attention from him for a while. “Hey, kid.” Han greeted him, nodded at Leia. “Princess. Surprised to find you here.” “What does that mean?” Leia was instantly righteous indignation embodied; Luke would ordinarily have marvelled at the abrupt shift in emotional temperature, but couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to their bickering now. “Nothing.” Han took his usual seat on the other side of the room, propping his chair back, boots on the bed, unravelling the bulky jacket. “How you doing, Luke?” “Fine.” He didn’t like the insistence on it not being his fault. The fact was, he was flying the airspeeder when it crashed. If he’d – maybe changed the angle of descent, somehow slowed the plummet, done something – Pag might still be alive instead of lying in the morgue a few rooms away, another victim of the war. A needless, pointless victim – such a stupid death. Leia had stood and crossed to where Han sat. “What are you talking about?” she demanded, in a slightly-lowered voice Luke probably wasn’t supposed to hear. Han shrugged again. “Like I said, princess. Nothing.” “Look, you – you. I care just as much about Luke’s welfare as you do—” Everyone in the Rebellion accepted the risk of their own death. Everyone had lost friends. Some had lost lovers. Everyone dealt with it differently. Luke had had friends die before – good friends, people he cared about. Biggs. Ben Kenobi. Even his aunt and uncle. Those were deaths he hadn’t been able to do anything about. Biggs and Ben had been gone in an instant. His aunt and uncle had died when he wasn’t there. He didn’t have to deal with this in any of those cases. He didn’t have to face the knowledge that it could have been him, maybe should have been him, not them, that died. No. Not like this. Not like knowing it had been him who crashed the ship, futzed the landing, wasn’t good enough, and someone else was dead because of it while he languished here in a comfortable medbay, healing at his supposed leisure. Tears were burning in Luke’s eyes again, stinging. It was driving him crazy, this weakness. He pushed back the covers of the bed. His head throbbed as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, but he ignored it. His legs ached almost instantly. He remembered the pain and the immobility trapped in the cold in the speeder and fear tried to worm through his stomach; he thrust it down. The ache in his legs intensified as he began to lean weight on them in preparation to rise. He ignored that also. There was a ledge beside his bed. He grabbed it and began to pull himself up. “All I’m saying is that I didn’t see you—what do you think you’re doing?” Han broke off his argument with Leia on the other side of the room. “You’re not supposed to be doing that.” Leia spun around. “Luke?” Han strode over as Luke pulled himself the rest of the way up. The nerves in his legs were on fire. His knees buckled, but Han grabbed his elbow. Luke jerked away and almost lost his anchoring grip on the ledge. “I want to stand,” he said. “You’re not supposed to be out of bed, Luke. The med droid—” Leia was reaching for him, her eyes wide with concern. “I don’t care what the med droid says.” Luke pulled away from her, and Han, taking another step, forcing through the pain. It hurt, but he was standing under his own power. Luke took another step, away from the ledge that had been supporting his weight. Leia and Han were both silent now, watching him with concern. It didn’t matter. He still felt completely empty. Pag was still dead. Luke slumped back against the wall. His legs gave out, and he slid down, coming down hard on the cold floor. He drew his knees up, ignoring the pain now burning in his muscles, and lowered his head into his arms. He felt Leia sit on one side, her hand light and warm on his arm. Han sat on his other side, his shoulder solid against Luke’s. They stayed that way, neither Han nor Leia moving or speaking until Luke finally raised his head. Then they helped him up, supporting him either side, back into the bed. “Give me some space,” Luke said, not looking at either of them. “Please.” He felt bone-weary, knew he was being ungrateful, a bad friend, unable to find it in himself to care. Leia and Han left. Luke rolled onto his side and stared at the wall, trying not to think. The med droid had Luke work on exercises over the next few days, strengthening his legs. He was trying to focus on walking without the assistance of the handrails the droid had provided when Wedge came by again. “I asked around,” Wedge said. “Pag had a brother in the Imperial navy. Ex-wife and kid on Chandrila, hadn’t been in contact with either in a long time. Worried about Imperial reprisals for them, maybe. They’ve been notified.” Luke frowned as he willed his legs to carry his weight. The pain was more bearable now. “Thank you,” he said. “No debt,” Wedge said. “How are you doing?” “All right. How’s the squadron?” “Fine. We’ve been testing the alterations the techs have made to the speeders.” “Oh?” Luke glanced up. “How’s that going?” “Good so far. None of the minor hitches we noticed before. Nor the major ones.” Wedge’s gaze flicked to Luke’s legs, and away. “Base Operations are talking about using native animals for ground patrols. Those weird-looking things – tauntauns. They’re pretty easy to tame, apparently.” “Bet the troops love that idea.” Wedge shrugged. “We’ll get used to it.” Luke grimaced. “I’m starting to wish I’d never suggested Hoth as a base.” “It’s a good location,” Wedge began to say, but Luke waved it off. “Forget it.” Luke concentrated on his next step. “Looks like the therapy’s going well,” Wedge said after a while. “Any idea when you’ll be back in the air?” Luke looked at him, eyebrows raised. “What’s the matter? Not enjoying being boss?” Wedge sighed. “Temporarily is okay. I’m looking forward to having my old call sign back, though. Being Rogue Leader isn’t my cup of stim.” Luke smiled. It felt a little strange, but it was genuine. “Stop being so good at it, then.” Wedge shook his head. “Just hurry up and get better.” “Sure thing, Boss.” Wedge glared at him. Luke was smiling when the other man left. -----signature----- Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so. Pieces of Air (ESB short story, complete) - http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/27283200/p1
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