#you only get the missing status if you're alive and the ship left without you

[xshrimpcake]

family Lethal Company night

[chaniters]

AU Fanfic Fallen-Hero Ranger Adventures. 1

Starting another Fanfic because of reasons.

This takes place in an AU (which is basically the end of my first fic)

Basically, Sidestep and Charge are together, Sidestep is trying to become a full ranger, and is no longer hunted by the government.

Midnight Terror

Years ago. Late night. Somewhere in the Lacandon Rainforest.

Hurried steps took him right to the very edge of the chasm.

The intense rain had made visibility a luxury and finding an escape route a guessing game

A game that he was clearly loosing. Crossing was impossible.

"Fuck!... Fuck Fuck fuck! Is this a joke?!"

But rain wouldn't compromise and he couldn't find a way across.

He had wrongly assumed the carnivore minds would stop searching for him once they consumed the bodies of his brothers.

He had been wrong. They had surely counted them, found one was missing, and reassumed the hunt. He had only gained some advantage, that was thinning quickly. He could sense them approaching faster than he could ever fathom.

Only a choice now. Left.. or right. Life or death.

Left! He ran as fast as he could. There seemed to be no end to the chasm. no way to cross. The rain gave the ground a muddy, disgusting texture. He looked at the bottom. No. If he tried to climb down, he would slip and break his spine on the long fall.

So he kept running.

A guttural howl. They could speak, he knew that. They just chose not to. However did the Catastrofiend create his demons, they hadn't been able to find out before she had found them instead. And she also had chosen not to speak.

Something in the distance... he could see... ropes. Crossing the chasm.

Rotten boards and ropes... remains of a bridge, still dangling over the chasm.

This path was his doom or his salvation, but that wasn't for him to decide. He could only try and follow it.

His mind couldn't recall a moment where he had been more afraid. He had cheated death many times before, but ...

He crossed as fast as he could. Keeping the balance, stepping on ropes, on dangling boards that gave in as he stepped on them, on thin air when his balance failed. He was certain he would fall and break every bone at the bottom, yet he somehow managed to reach the other side.

He took his knife and cut the dangling ropes loose, letting the whole thing fall down. That could gain him some time at least.

The operative had memorized all maps regarding this operation. That was his main task. His telepathic training wasn't as advanced as the rest of the team, so he would help bringing his knowledge of the area to their mind link.

Thanks to it, he had an approximate idea of where the military base was...

He expanded his mind, looking for threats. Soon enough, the Minds were on his sights... and they were heading straight for the bridge.

"Fuck!" He ran faster. He felt, struggled into the mud, stood up and kept running. He had cut off the bridge but he knew the speed those things could achieve. They would cross the chasm.. climb it down and up again... And fall on him like wolves.

"FUCK!" he screamed while running. It was futile, they'd catch up with him before he could...

...

The minds went pass the bridge without even stopping and headed east. They were going to cross the chasm some other way.

He started running again. He understood. They were not after him.  

.................................

He reached the base two days later. He had hurried as much as he could.

But by them there were no officers to report to, no scientists to take him back, no drugs to put him to sleep, no psychics to erase his trauma and leave him battle ready once more...

Piles of corpses... he looked for survivors.

They had devoured most of the soldiers and left the rest to rot. He had cheated death many times before, but he would have taken any of those deaths before the one the Catastrofiend liked to inflict.

After examining the third pile, and nearly walking away, he sensed a mind regain consciousness. He returned, and found someone alive. He was breathing. But the wounds were far too severe. Dying. Dying, and not giving him more instructions, or orders of any kind.

A young man. He was suffering. There was no way to help him. So he did what he had been trained to do. Put an end to the suffering. A single cut.

His eyes looked at him in understanding as he did it. His mind was afraid, but it relaxed for a few minutes once the pain was gone... and then.. there was nothing.

Drenched by the rain, sweat and blood, he let go of the dead. There was no one else. He was the only survivor.

He wandered a few steps towards the shattered tents, then fell on his knees and screamed. But only the dead could hear him. ..........................................

Present day.

"Hey!" Ortega shook him lightly. "It's just a nightmare"

"Wha...?" Cyrus woke up in a daze and just stared at Ortega, startled for a few seconds, until it all came back to him. He wasn't in a jungle. He was in the Ranger's Headquarters. And he was in Ortega's room.

"Nightmare" Ortega repeated.

"Oh." Cyrus managed to acknowledge. "Sorry" He felt guilty. He had so many of these, and he wouldn't let Ortega sleep.

Sleeping pills helped, but he didn't always take them, it messed his telepathy and gave him headaches afterwards. And sleeping pills couldn't cure PTSD anyways.

Ortega felt he needed to wake him up every time, which was really not an easy thing to do when he had one of the bad ones, so it would take a good 10 minutes of his sleep time trying to wake him, and then there was no way to assure he wouldn't have another one the moment he shut his eyes.

"It's ok" he said. "How do you feel?"

Cyrus pondered on the question for a split-second. "I'm alright. It's nothing"

"Do you want to write it down?"

"No.. just go back to sleep Ricardo"

"But..."

"I'll go get something from the fridge, read an article or something and then go back to my room and sleep. Don't worry"

"But..."

But Cyrus just gave him a pat on the shoulder, and quickly made for the corridor. He could tell Ortega to stop mothering him but that would only lead to mortifying the both of them further. Ortega was just doing with they had discussed in therapy to the letter and none of this was his fault.

He had PTSD that had gone untreated for his entire lifetime until last year. The more he understood therapy, the more he got used to the idea that nightmares were going to be part of his life (Dream-life?), and no amount of discussing their hidden meanings with the shrink was going to make them go away.

Of course he would still do it.. but he didn't really hope for improvement in that front anymore.

He made a beeline for the fridge, and as he laid a hand on the cold trove of treasure, he froze. There was another mind, a few steps from him, fixed on his same prize. They couldn't see each other in the cover of darkness, but it was there...

"So... it seems we meet again" he let out.

He heard an immediate stumble.

"Not again! I swear you'r trying to kill me..."

"Sorry Chen.. seems i beat you to the fridge this time. What shall it be?"

Steel sighed. "I think there are some pizza leftovers."

"Yes. You get that, i'll make myself a sandwich." He said, passing two slices to Chen. He also passed him a beer before he asked.. because.. telepathy.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Chen asked, taking the added beer without a word.

"Nope."

"What was it this time?"

"Back at the jungles escaping the Catastrofiend's creeps”

“That’s when you first broke out from the Special Directive right?”

“Yes...  Ortega woke me up. You?"

"The attack a the embassy all over. Woke up on my own. Always do"

"Shit."

"Same to you."

"Thanks."

They sat on the couch, fiddling with their smartphones. This had become a sort of routine. Eventually, they'd go back to sleep, after calming their nerves a bit. Oddly enough it had actually made him closer to Chen than ever before.

"How are you?" Chen asked. It was weird, but Cyrus was feeling more comfortable with him asking lately.

"You really want to know ?"He smiled lightly

"Yup."

"I... I don't know. I feel like i'm not getting better. And then we argue... and I apologize. And he feels guilty for all the shit I've been trough.. and I tell him it's not his fault... And then i keep thinking that i'm going to fuck it up for real at some point."

"Then don't fuck it up"

"Oh wow thanks for the sage advice" Cyrus cracked.

"Happy to oblige" Chen said extending a his beer in his general direction with a smile.

"I'm trying."

"That's all he asks. Don't stop."

"I won't.... Anyways, how about you?"

"Too much stress. The mayor's a... -ahem- ... major pain in my ass."

"Ha... You know, if you had let me carry on my master-plan further, he wouldn't be in office"

"What, you feel like wearing that clown villain costume again? I don't see anyone stopping you.."

"Sorry, too late... " he held his hand to Chen "That ship has sailed... I'm a glorious honorary hero these days. Fuck me."

"You really should tell that to Ortega"

"Fell right into that one didn't I..."

"Yes. Anyways, you you could always retire" Chen grinned.

"Like anyone's going to fall for that one again."

"Hell no. So.. did you pass the physicals?"

"Yeah. My government-issue body regenerated just on time for that. Psych tests... i have no idea. I had to do a written test, they don't trust sending an examiner on the same room"

"I'll call them and have them e-mail me the results tomorrow." Honorary member status was not regulated, tough no one had really objected it so far. Becoming a regular ranger member required a background check, a psych test and a physical test.

"Thanks... Oh and.. uh.. Chen.. If I don't pass.. can you..." Cyrus started, a bit insecure

"I'll sugar-coat it sure. But stop being so worried. This isn’t a race”

"You know how he gets when he sees no progress"

"I know..." Cyrus had taken the test twice now, and Ortega thought it had only been once.

They stayed silent for a few minutes.

"Question." Steel spoke after a while.

"Yes?"

"Why the Catastrofiend? You did get closure on that nut-job, you shot his head off"

He shrugged “No idea . It's just another stupid night terror"

Steel nodded.

Cyrus finally stood up

"Want me to go to the meeting with you tomorrow? I can wave my big "Telepath pariah" sign and scare out the political creeps away just by standing next to you. It's my new superpower"

"You know I can't say no to that..."

"It's a date then" Cyrus washed his plate then head back to his own room.

Steel stayed for a while longer, wondering when exactly had he really befriended Sidestep. Sans the mystery, he had turned out to be a really ok person...

_________________________

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

[drinkupthesunrise]

Ok, so I know you're all about the WedgeLuke, but would you consider writing WedgeBodhi? For a prompt I would say, something like - Wedge gets put in charge of helping the newest defector transition into the Rebellion. He didn't expect to actually *like* the guy... Maybe?

I am a consummate multishipper, even if I do focus my writing mostly in one place :D So happy to oblige. This is definitely Wedge/Bodhi, but it is also some other things as well, because I got slightly carried away. (3.5k, also on ao3)

Thereare, in retrospect, a half dozen reasons why Wedge is the perfect manto help Bodhi Rook settle into the Alliance to Restore the Republic.

(He’san Imperial Defector himself; he spent six months out on injuryrelearning to walk; he knows exactly what it’s like to walk from abattle that left almost everyone else dead; to name a few.)

Thatdoesn’tmean that Wedge likesany of them.

He’salready spotted one eager, idiotic, headstrong pilot who needslooking after – Skywalker is youngand in desperate need of guidance – but Wedge is told that, no,Skywalker already has people in his corner. (To be the Last Princessof Alderaan, ready to martyr oneself for the Alliance, counts for farmore than a fool of a pilot who peeled off the Death Star run momentsbefore completion, apparently.) Instead, Wedge is asked to beresponsible for the hero of Scarif, thepilot, the only reason that any of them are still standing here atall.

Theorders come from Chancellor Mon Mothma herself, conveyed by HeraSyndulla, just before the evacuation of Yavin Base. It’sthe last words Hera says to Wedge. The Ghost does not appear at therendezvous point. Wedge is cast adrift, bitter and alone again –they’ve sent Luke off with that damned Corellian idiot and thePrincess, and Verlaine is now heading the Alderaanian contingent, andHobbie… Hobbie is in medical somewhere,where Wedge isn’tquite sure, but his status remains steady at aliveso Wedge doesn’tquestion it too much.

Sohe does about the only thing left to himself, and gets his ass downto the medbay. The med droids almost don’tlet him in, but Wedge’s orders came with a broad spectrumauthorisation that gets him past once he remembers to use it.

“Getthe fuck out,” are the words which Wedge is greeted with. He canonly see a back, and an arm – still bandaged heavily, which meansthe limited Bacta supplies didn’t help and it’ll scar. One legswings under the bed. The other one, Wedge knows from his briefglance at the medical report, was lost to the explosion that rockedRogueOne.

“I’dlove to,” Wedge shoots back. “But Chancellor’s orders. You’restuck with me until you can get an audience with her and convince heryou don’tneed babysitting, and good kriffing luck with that.”

Bodhi’shead turns, just enough to get a glance at Wedge. Half his head isshaved – medical intervention, Wedge guesses, or at least partof it is unintentional, because…well, it’s not a great look, and Rook doesn’t look used to it.His eyes are wide, almost too big for his face, and they’rehaunted, from stress and lack of sleep and who knows what besides. Inthat second, Bodhi looks almost ready to fight, to physically pushWedge out the medbay if he has to. But something stops him. “You’re…”Rook’s voice is low, worn thin, though Wedge thinks it might havebeen nice once. “You’re a pilot.”

Wedgenods. The bright orange of his comefind mesuit made that fairly clear. “Iwas on the Death Star run,” he says, hoping it will prove to Bodhithat he understands just a modicum of the hell that Bodhi’s beenthrough. That he has the potential to.

Bodhiconsiders this for a long moment. “Chancellor’sorders?”

“’Fraidso.” Wedge lets his mouth quirk into a smile.

“Well,come in. Two-one-bee will have a fitif you keep standing at the door, and I’mnever going to get released if I keep pissing them off.”

.

“Whatdo you actually doall day?”

Wedgekicks off, sliding his board out from under the low-level A-Wing he’stampering with, to see Bodhi looking down at him, curiosity all overhis face. Six weeks in, and Wedge would have thought that Bodhi wouldhave worked that out by now: Rook is smart enough.

Onthe other hand, it’sonly in the last week that he’s been fitted with a prosthetic, andonly in the last day or two has he actually been able to wander aboutthe ship, so it wouldn’t be the biggest surprise if he’d missedthe bleeding obvious.

“Work,”Wedge replies.

“Onwhat?” Bodhi asks. He kneels down, trying to work out what on earthWedge is doing. “You aren’t rated as a Starfighter mechanic, Ichecked.”

Hechecked?Wedge wheels himself a little further backwards, then props himselfup, so he can get a proper look at Bodhi instead of the half-upsidedown view he’dpreviously had. One of the medics has got at his hair, cutting itproperly – he’s got an undercut, Wedge notes, that wasintentional, and then the left side is shaved clean – that would bewhere the shrapnel got him in the head – and his remaining hair hasbeen pulled into tight braids across his scalp, gathered into aponytail. His scruff is steadily turning into a full-scale beard. Hismouth is set in a pursed line, his fingers – his hands are sittingacross his knees – are long and elegant.

(Wedgeis loathe to admit it, but Bodhi’sdamnpretty. But it’snot like any of Wedge’s attractions to the various pilots who havecrossed his path have actually come to anything, so he doesn’tdwell on it.)

“Doesn’tmean I can’t tinker a bit,” Wedge shrugs.

“Doesn’tanswer my question,” Bodhi retorts. He’s got a reputation on shipfor being hesitant, shy, nervous; not surprising, given everythinghe’s been through. Around Wedge, he burns with a fire and a witthat is sharp – even though Wedge can see the cracks in his psyche,damage done by unknown horrors before he even reached the Rebellion.

Wedgesighs. “Youreally wanna know?” Bodhi’s not going to like the answer, but henods anyway. “Look after you.”

Bodhi’seyes go even wider than they already are, naturally – somethingthat Wedge wasn’t sure was possible. “What—” Bodhi sputters,rocking back and forth on his heels. “That’s not a job! I don’t—”He glances around, eyes darting franticly, and there’s one of thebreaks that Wedge knows is there, the sort of thing that does meanthat Bodhi needs a full-time caretaker, at the moment at least.“You’re one of the heroes of Yavin, does this damn Alliance nothave a better use for you than me? You should be out there amongstthe stars flying,Wedge, not here on the ground with me, don’tthey realise that, you could be doing so much more.”

Thereare reasons Wedge isn’tout there flying, and the fact that Bodhi isn’t the only onecurrently failing his Psych Evals is one of them. Wedge isn’t readyto tell Bodhi that yet though. He will, eventually – it’ll help,someday, but at the moment there isn’t room for Bodhi to beconcerned about Wedge. Instead, Wedge pushes himself all the way up,and places his hands solidly on Bodhi’s knees, leaning weight onthe way he learnt from the medics, how to ground Bodhi when he’sstarting to panic. “It’s the way it goes. When they need me tofly, I’ll fly. For now, I’ll tinker and advise and pull shifts onthe bridge and do what Chancellor Mon Mothma told me to do, which isto make sure you’re alright.” Bodhi looks surprised at theferocity of Wedge’s instincts – almost like he’s surprised thathe is worth fighting for. “I’m quite content here with you. I’vebeen in enough battles I shouldn’t have survived at this point.”

Bodhitakes a ragged breath, trying to hold it and turn it into somethingdeep. “Okay,”he says. “Okay.” He covers one of Wedge’s hands with his own,and steadies himself in Wedge’s firm gaze.

Wedgetakes a sudden sharp breath. Shit,he thinks. Bodhi’shand is warm on his own, holding firm, and Wedge is almost dizzyunder Rook’s eyes, boring into his own. He does not need to fallfor the man he’s supposed to be looking after. That is a badidea.

Thankfully,Bodhi doesn’tnotice.

.

WhenBodhi is fully released from the medbay, Wedge is cognisant of hisgrowing crush on Bodhi enough that he knows he should probablyobject to the quartermaster’sinsistence on putting Bodhi in Wedge’s bunkroom. It’s a room forfour, currently only being occupied by Wedge and a recent Imperialdefector who’s awaiting a squadron assignment, once High Commandhave cleared him. There isn’t much of an argument for Wedge toactually make, and there are advantages to having Bodhi close to keepan eye on him.

Thefirst week passes without incident, and Wedge thinks that they’remaking progress on Bodhi’s many issues, and maybe a few of his own.One of them might actually see the inside of a Starfighter within theyear.

Then:

Wedgesits bolt upright in bed, breathing hard. Light continues to flash infront of his eyes as he blinks fast; his ship exploding over Yavin,Biggs’voice ringing in his ears. He digs his finger nails into his thigh,reminding himself that he is aliveand awakeand that he survived,and those are the consequences he has to live with.

Heflicks his gaze across and downwards, desperately hoping that hisnightmare didn’twake Bodhi up. But there’s no one in his bunk. The sheets aredisturbed; someone did sleep there. “Bodhi?” he asks, keeping hisvoice quiet.

“Iwas about to wake you.” The voice that comes back to his in returnis not Bodhi’s. Wedge peers over the edge of his bunk and isgreeted by Tycho Celchu looking up at him. “I heard the door go, Ithink he’s gone.”

“Shit!”Wedge shakes the last of sleep off himself, and vaults down theladder. He pulls on his boots and grabs his flight jacket, checkinghis pocket for his comm. “I’m gonna go find him, if he wandersback, let me know?” Tycho nods and then Wedge is dashing out thedoor.

Hetries to think where Bodhi might have gone. His own tired,nightmare-driven feet take him to the hangar, where a couple of techsconfirm no sightings of him. The mess hall is a dead end, althoughPrincess Leia is sitting in a corner of it, nursing a cup of caf andlooking like the world is coming down around her. Wedge hadn’teven known she was on ship. But he doesn’t have time for her now,so he leaves without even acknowledging her presence. After a littlewhile wandering corridors, Wedge suddenly realises – the medbay.

“Seemsyour charge escaped you,” Doctor Varin comments when Wedge dashesin the door. “He’s in with the Captain.”

Wedgenods. He calms himself – they won’tlet him through the door unless he’s calm. When his breath hassteadied, he walks through into the private, occupied room, and:there is Bodhi. Sitting on a chair by a bed, dark skin and dark hairand dark clothes a complete contrast against the stark white of thebed. Wedge taps his comm quickly, sending an all clear to Tycho.“Bodhi?” Wedge asks, keeping his voice soft.

Bodhikeens, a desperate wail that collapses into full blown sobs. Wedgewalks, steady across the room, to place a hand on Bodhi’sshoulder. Bodhi responds by wrapping his arms around Wedge’s waistand bawling into Wedge’s stomach. Helpless, Wedge strokes a handacross the back of Bodhi’s head and hopes to hell he’s providingsome comfort. There’s nothing he can say. Wedge’s demons areghosts, gone up in a fire of smoke and metal, and Bodhi’s lie infront of him.

Honestly,Wedge isn’tsure he could have done what Bodhi did. The man was blown up, and hemanaged to pull himself together just long enough to rewire thecontrols of the shuttle to get it airborne again. He picked up almosta dozen survivors, and then flew out. How he’d got past thesecurity gate and eluded the Imperial fleet was anyone’s guess –none of the survivors can remember. They’d limped back to Yavinjust after the Death Star had been destroyed. Including Bodhi, onlynine had survived the flight back.

Onlyeight of those are up and walking. Captain Cassian Andor is stilllying in the medbay, unconscious. The medics all agree he’snot brain-dead, but none of them know why he’s not woken up yet.Bodhi blames himself – if only he’d got back faster, then Cassianwould have received medical treatment sooner, and maybe he’d beawake right now.

Wedgewaits until Bodhi has cried himself out. “Comeon,” Wedge whispers, pulling Bodhi out of the chair and into anembrace. “You’re no good to him like this. Let’s get some sleepand we can see if the medics have made any progress tomorrow.”Bodhi nods against Wedge’s shoulder, and allows Wedge to take hishand and quietly escort him back to their quarters.

Tychois snoring away when they get back. Wedge is glad. He has his owndemons, too – he was an Alderaanian in Imperial Service whenAlderaan fell. That’senough to bear.

Wedgemanhandles Bodhi into bed. The man went out in just his sleep things,no shoes, so at least Wedge doesn’thave to undress him, just make sure he gets in his bunk and staysthere. Wedge tosses his flight jacket in the vague direction of hisfootlocker and wrestles his boots off, and then there’s a hand onhis wrist. He turns to see Bodhi looking up at him. “Stay?” Bodhiasks.

“Stay—?”Oh. Wedge swallows hard. Bodhi looks so vulnerable there in the bed,and it’s not like Wedge was looking forward to going back to hisown bunk, cold and lonely. He silently nods. Bodhi moves over, lyingon his side to leave just enough space for Wedge to clamber into abunk that really isn’t big enough for two people. Bodhi’s handsfall around Wedge’s waist. Wedge wraps an arm around Bodhi’sshoulders. In minutes, Bodhi is fast asleep on Wedge’s chest, andWedge… Wedge doesn’t have a kriffing clue what he’s doinganymore.

.

Theanniversary of Scarif draws closer, months turning into weeks andthen into days. Wedge gets his combat clearance back, and with it atacit acknowledgement that Bodhi is well enough to not need afull-time minder, because no one else is assigned to watch him. Wedgeflies with Luke again, the two of them natural counterpoints to eachother, blending together effortlessly. It makes Wedge wonder what itwould be like to fly with Bodhi, but that is still a way off.

JynErso trudges back to them. Wedge is worried when he spots her in thehangar. She was another who disappeared in the Yavin evacuation, anddespite Bodhi’sbest efforts to learn where she went, either the Alliance didn’tknow or it was classified far above their paygrade. From the rankpips on Erso’s collar, Wedge guesses the latter. Bodhi takes a longlook at her, and then they are hugging, weeping into each other’sembrace. Wedge breathes a little easier in that moment.

CassianAndor still sleeps in the medbay, and Wedge watches Erso’smelancholy grief as she and Bodhi hold a vigil at his bedside. Hefeels like an intruder, but Bodhi asks for him, and Erso smiles athim sadly, so he stands at the edge of the bed and prays that theCaptain wakes up.

Theday itself is ordinary. Wedge flies the CAP first shift, leavingBodhi to sleep in the bunk that they now share nightly. When hereturns, he finds Bodhi deep in the innards of a wrecked B-Wing, headducked alongside a radiant head of gold that can only belong to LukeSkywalker. The presence of the Falcon in the hangar would supportthat. There might have been a time when Wedge would be jealous – ofeither or both of them – but today, Wedge is just glad of thedistraction. And as the day wears on, a steady congregation of pilotsappears, forming a comforting circle around Bodhi and Jyn. Of thenine survivors of the ground battle, a year on, only five are stillalive. (Of the survivors of the air battle, most were killed in theBattle of Yavin. Some of the crew of the mid-level fighters survived,scattered to the winds, not wanting any acknowledgement of their partin it.)

ThePrincess appears, flanked by Solo – she looks worn and thin. It’sbeen a long year, and her own anniversary is coming up. She says somewords, and Luke – hero of Yavin, heir to the legacy of Scarif sayssome more. (Later in the evening, he approaches Wedge, with neworders from Commander Narra; a squadron perhaps, but Wedge brusheshim off. That conversation is for another day, a week and a half fromnow, when their grief has cleared.) Janson – who skirted death atYavin by nature of a flu virus, and Wedge has never been able to tellwhether he’s grateful to be alive or not – brings a tub ofmoonshine, and for once the Princess turns a blind eye as a number ofserving, on-duty pilots get roaringly drunk.

Lukeis telling a story, one about his misadventures on Tatooine, oneinvolving Biggs – and Wedge must be getting better, because hischest no longer aches at the mention of his name. Bodhi is drapedover his shoulder, head tucked into Wedge’sneck, hands roaming over Wedge’s thigh. Erso is giving them a tacitsmile, so Wedge just lets Bodhi continue, wrapping an arm around hisback.

Almosteveryone utters their thanks to Bodhi, to Jyn, as the party slowlybreaks up. In the end, it’sjust Wedge, Jyn, and Bodhi, sitting round. Jyn helps Wedge get Bodhito his feet – the man isn’t so much drunk as just tired.“Youalright with him?” Jyn asks, and Wedge nods. There’s a briefgoodbye between Bodhi and Jyn, and then Jyn leaves, in the directionof the medbay. Probably to spend another night at Cassian’s side.

Wedgeand Bodhi stagger back to their quarters. As Wedge inputs thekeycode, Bodhi says: “Thanks.”

“Forwhat?” Wedge asks back, pushing the door open.

“Foreverything,” Bodhi says, before kissing Wedge.

Wedgestumbles back in surprise, but Bodhi’shands are firm in Wedge’s shirt, his mouth soft and insistent, andWedge’s gasp merely turns the kiss open-mouthed. Wedge’s hands,initially uncertain, reach up for Bodhi’s hair, one side stilltufty and short from where he’s only just made the decision to growit back out again.

Whenthey break for air, Wedge has the sense to kick the door closedbehind them, before they gain an audience. Knowing the Rebellion,there’sa betting pool somewhere, and he’s in no haste to see it settledbefore he knows what’s going on himself.

Bodhi’seyes are sparkling, and there’s a smile tugging at his lips, and helooks … Wedge would say he looks like himself,only Wedge has never seen Bodhi like this. He looks unburdened, justin this moment. Maybe this is what he looked like, before everything.

“Iquite like you, you know,” Bodhi offers, almost shy.

Wedgetakes him in. “Iquite like you too,” he replies, following Bodhi’s wording, andnot daring to say that he thinks it’s a heck of a lot more thanthat. He pushes Bodhi against the bunk, and kisses him again, andthinks that he could do this forever.

.

Theyare awoken the next morning by banging on their door.

“Bodhi!”The voice that calls through, at what must be an ungodly hour –it’s gone 0700 by the chrono though – is Jyn Erso’s. She knocksagain, and repeats Bodhi’s name, loud enough that Bodhi rolls overWedge – they share a kiss on the way, Erso isn’t going to ruinall their morning fun – before gathering a sheet to make himselfdecent and opening the door.

“Whatis it Jyn?” he asks, bleary eyed in the face of the harsh corridorlights.

Erso’sface is lit up in wonder, her cheeks flushed, excitement pulsingthrough her veins. “It’s Cassian,” she says. “He woke up.”