drabblewriter

It's a blessing, Wedge supposes, that the news of Luke's death doesn't hurt more. It does hurt, of course it does, like a very part of himself has withered away, but Luke left years ago. That slow separation, never knowing if he would ever see him again, it was a way of easing into it, and now he knows for sure.

Yet even after Leia and the remains of the Resistance arrive on the hidden base and he manages to sit down with her and hear the whole story, he still has questions. Rey, the young woman who trained with Luke, who spend his last days with him, who was the closest to him of anyone at the end – Wedge seeks her out. There are things he needs to know.

He manages to find her a few days later alone at a table in the corner of the mess hall. It's not often she's not surrounded by her friends and a crowd of fawning retainers, so Wedge seizes the chance and introduces himself.

“General Wedge Antilles. Well, Admiral now,” he corrects, the loss of Ackbar still stinging in the back of his throat. “Forget it; it's not important.” He sits and offers his hand.

The girl shakes it firmly “Rey, but you probably already knew that. Everyone seems to.”

Wedge's lips quirk a little. “You are quite the celebrity.” The general reaction to her among the troops reminds him of Luke after Yavin – relief, hope, some kind of belief that a single Jedi will save them. In person, she's more like Luke after Bespin – confident in her power but also world-weary, with that same sense of having seen too much for her years.

“Wait...” Rey is tilting her head at him now as if trying to remember something. “Luke had these holos. He didn't take them out very often and only when he thought I couldn't see, but I did. One was of Han and Leia when they were younger, and the other was a man I didn't know.” Her eyes sharpen. “It was you he was looking at.” She glances at Wedge's hand. “Were you his husband?”

She's perceptive. Wedge touches the ring he's never taken off despite everything, remembering the quiet ceremony held after Endor attended by only a few of their closest friends. “Yes.”

Rey turns indignant. “Your husband, and he just left you to become a hermit on that island? Did he even keep in contact? I didn't see any communications equipment there.”

“He didn't,” Wedge admits, letting sharp memories of how much he had hated that at first roll off his back. “But I always knew he was at least alive. Leia could sense him through the Force, and she told me. Then when he...cut himself off, she still knew he was alive She would always have felt it if he died.”

It's maybe the wrong thing to say, since Rey knows this and felt Luke's death herself – Wedge doesn't know if he's grateful or jealous he never had that connection – but she's only giving him a hard look like his answer hasn't been quite sufficient.

Wedge sighs. He came here to ask her questions, yet she's managed to turn things around on him already. He supposes give and take is only fair. “Loving a Jedi was never easy, especially one in Luke's position. He had duties and callings to follow that I couldn't.” Those, too, are all too clear in Wedge's memories. Luke vanishing after Hoth, finally showing up again minus a hand and plus more burdens, showing up at the door to Wedge's quarters and just crying in his arms for the longest time before he could explain why. Then when the Empire finally fell and he went exploring his Jedi heritage and trying to figure out how to rebuild the Order. Wedge had helped as much as he could, of course, but mostly he stayed behind, using his own most valuable skills to train new pilots. He'd managed, though. He had the ring, the warm reassurance of Luke's love no matter how far away he was.

“He came to me the night he left for Ahch-To,” Wedge finds himself explaining. “I didn't know it at the time, but it was right after the massacre at the Temple. I remember he smelled like smoke.” Wedge shivers. Rey is watching him with dark, unblinking eyes. “I was ready to go with him,” Wedge goes on, half lost in the memory now. “He told me to stay. He needed time alone, and he knew I could do more good here. The First Order threat was emerging even then, and he knew Leia was going to need friends.”

“That was big of him,” Rey says finally, still not sounding entirely convinced. “Did he tell you what actually happened that night?”

“I found out later,” Wedge answers.

“So he told you he nearly killed Ben Solo because he though he'd already turned to the dark side?” Rey presses.

“He wouldn't have done that,” Wedge protests immediately. He aches at the memory of a little dark-haired boy drooling and babbling in his arms, not the slightest hint of what he would grow to become. How much Luke had loved little Ben and how it had led to them discussing their own options before they decided they had enough children between them with their respective students.

“Not in the end, no,” Rey agrees solemnly. “But it's the intention that mattered. Ben woke to find his uncle standing over him with a lightsaber. He defended himself.”

Wedge bristles. “Surely you're not going to tell me he destroyed the Temple and killed so many of Luke's students in an act of self-defense.”

“No, of course not.” For the first time, Rey glances away. “I'm only saying I understand, at least partially, what that must have been like for him.” She shakes herself a little and looks back at Wedge. “This isn't what you came to talk to me about.”

“No,” Wedge admits. He quashes the urge to fidget under her questioning gaze. “I hadn't seen Luke for years, and now he's gone. You were with him. I just wonder...what was that like? What was he like?”

Rey tilts her head a little, maybe trying to decide if she's going to answer. Or how. What exactly Wedge wants to hear if that's what she's going to tell him.

“I didn't know him before,” she begins slowly, “so it's difficult for me to say...but I get the feeling he changed a lot after the Temple fell. He was...angry. Bitter.” Her face takes on a faraway look for a moment, like she's gazing into the past. “But mostly I think he was just sad. He thought he was doing the right thing training the next generation of Jedi, and when it all fell apart, he didn't know what to do. He was guilty and disappointed. And afraid. It took a lot of convincing before he would teach me anything. He didn't want another Kylo Ren.”

For a second, Wedge imagines Rey dressed all in black, crimson replacing the bright blue of Luke's old lightsaber, yellow in her eyes. He shakes the image away.

“I think he came around in the end, though. He taught me what he was willing, about the Force and balance and how the Jedi don't own it. You know he came back in the end and saved us at Crait. He gave his life so the Resistance could live.” She pauses, seeming to weigh her words, then says with soft decisiveness, “He was a good man.”

There's a warmth in Wedge's chest even as his lip wobbles. Luke had changed, of course he had, but not so much as to be unrecognizable. He was still the man Wedge loved. Had he ever really questioned that?

Rey is still watching him. “Did I answer your questions?”

Wedge manages a nod. “I'm not sure what I was looking for exactly,” he admits, rubbing a bit of wayward moisture from the corner of his eye. “I've missed him all this time, and it's hard knowing I'll never seem him again. I think I'm jealous of you in a way.”

She seems to understand. “You still knew him better than I did. The two of you had so many years together.” She looks at Wedge's ring again. “I don't think what he felt for you ever changed. Even when I was with him, the way he looked at that holo...he loved you.”

“I loved him, too.” Wedge drops his eyes, wiping his face again. “Thank you, Rey.”

“If there's anything else you need, any more questions you have, I'll try to answer them.”

“I think that's all for now.” Wedge steadies himself, tries to focus on other things. “I've heard you're a hell of a pilot.”

Rey lights up like he hasn't seen her yet, warming to the new subject immediately. “I haven't had much opportunity, but when I'm flying the Millennium Falcon, it always feels so right.”

Wedge smiles at her. “I used to be a starfighter pilot myself back in the day. I'd love to see you demonstrate sometime.”

Rey nods eagerly. “It's not like I've ever had official training or anything. Maybe you can give me some pointers.”

“I'd like that.” Wedge glances at his chrono and winces. The pressures of command never stop, especially as he's pushed higher and higher up the chain. “I have to be going, unfortunately, but I've really appreciated this talk.”

“Admiral?” she calls as he makes to stop away, and when he turns back, goes on, “I've been thinking...when there's time, when things have settled down for the Resistance a bit, I want to go back to Ahch-To. See if Luke left anything that might be helpful to me. You could come, if you wanted. There might be things of his you would want to keep.”

It's not that Wedge needs physical reminders of the man he shared so much of his life with, but the thought is a comforting one. “I'd like that,” he tells her.