It’s all Wedge can do to concentrate through the final meeting of the day with Broak Vessery and Ysanne Isard. Besides the uncomfortable company he's keeping, he doesn’t have his XO, best friend, and partner beside him. Tycho had gone back to their room early, explaining he wasn’t feeling well, and he’d looked it. Wedge knows he’s struggling with being trapped on this base even more then the rest of them, and it doesn’t seem to be getting better.

For far from the first time, Wedge hates his responsibilities keeping him away. He has a squadron to take care of, a battle to fight, a complicated situation to navigate, and those things are all important to him, but what he really wants at this moment is to be beside the man he loves making sure he's okay.

Finally the meeting ends, and Wedge is out the door without waiting to be excused. He makes his way quickly through the halls to the quarters he's been assigned, offering little more than terse nods to those who acknowledge him along the way, both other Rogues and members of Vessery's squadrons.

Tycho is sitting at the room's small desk when Wedge enters, listlessly poking at a non-networked datapad.

Wedge frowns. “I though you were turning in early.”

“I tried,” Tycho says on a sigh. He gives Wedge a strained smile. “Couldn’t fall asleep.”

Wedge drops his things on the end of the bed and crosses to him, studying the lines of Tycho’s face. The creases are deeper than usual, the shadows in his blue eyes more pronounced. “Your anxiety?”

Tycho nods. “It’s just hard being here, knowing she’s here.”

“I can’t imagine.” Wedge reaches out to touch his cheek, and Tycho leans into him, eyes fluttering.

“I can’t sleep. I can’t concentrate. I’ve haven’t been this off my game since...”

Since Lusankya, he doesn’t say, but Wedge hears the words anyway.

“I know it only helps so much given the situation, but how are you doing on medication?”

“Getting low,” Tycho admits. “I think I need to start taking it every other day.”

“Is that a good idea?”

Tycho shrugs weakly. “It’s the best I’ve got. It’s not like I’m going to take anything these people give me, even if they would refill the prescription, and we don't know how much longer we're going to be here.”

“Fair point.” Wedge frowns thoughtfully, continuing to pet his partner’s hair, watching the way his face relaxes at just the simple touch. “What if I stayed awake while you slept?” Wedge proposes. “I’d be here watching over you, and you know I’d never let anything happen. Would that put your mind at ease?”

Tycho’s eyes slide open slowly, heavy with exhaustion. “Maybe?”

“It couldn't hurt to try,” Wedge says gently. He steps away, noting how it makes Tycho sigh and fold in on himself a little. Moments later, Wedge has toed off his boots and positioned himself sitting at the head of the bed. “Come here,” he coaxes.

Tycho stands, stretching a little, and comes after him, crawling across the bed to settle himself close to Wedge.

“Put your head in my lap,” Wedge murmurs, guiding him into a comfortable position. “There.” One hand rubs Tycho's shoulder gently while the other slides back into his hair. “Rest. I'm not going anywhere. I'll watch over you.”

“You need rest, too,” Tycho protests feebly, but he doesn't move or even look up.

“Later,” Wedge assures him. “You need it more right now.”

Tycho grunts but doesn't argue. He's still tense against Wedge, not managing to relax entirely yet. Wedge is considering how to help with that when a door slams in the hall, and Tycho jolts, wide eyes whirling toward the sound.

“Probably just Corran and Ooryl coming back from dinner,” Wedge reassures him. “It's all right.”

Tycho huffs, clearly frustrated with his own reaction, and allows Wedge to guide him back down. Then the room's air cycling unit clicks on, and he shudders again.

Wedge understands. He's seen him like this before: over-sensitized and hyper-vigilant, responding too sharply to every stimulus, unable to turn it off and relax. Again, Wedge searches for ways to help how to help.

“Grab the blankets,” he suggests after a moment, moving to assist. Together, they get the pair of blankets on the bed pulled up and over Tycho's shoulders. When Tycho settles again, Wedge bunches them around his sides like a sort of protective nest. Next comes a pillow, placed over Tycho's neck and shoulders, blocking out even more of his surroundings.

“There,” Wedge says softly when he's finished, surveying his work. With the bedclothes on one side and Wedge on the other, his partner is as protected as he can be.

“This feels nice,” Tycho murmurs, and though his voice still isn't completely even, there's relief there.

“Good. Is there anything else you need, love?”

“I don't think so.” Wedge slides his hands back into his hair, and Tycho makes a soft, pleased sound. “Just keep doing that.”

For a while, they relax in silence. Wedge smooths blond strands between his fingers and gently massages Tycho's scalp as he listens to his breathing calm little by little. He barely makes a conscious decision, and then he's humming, just under his breath at first, then a little louder. The quiet song seems to float in the air between them, gentle and soothing.

“Mirrorbright?” Tycho murmurs after awhile, groggy now. “You remember.”

“Of course I remember.” Back in the days when he'd first joined the Alliance and his anxiety was diagnosed, Tycho had had a datachip of traditional Alderaanian music he'd often listened to to remember his homeworld and help calm himself. Wedge had heard the songs enough times he was now just as familiar with them.

Wedge goes back to humming, and after a few bars, Tycho joins him. The soft vibrations of their voices meld together in the otherwise silent room, and the sounds from outside have quieted too. Wedge silently prays that will continue until Tycho is asleep and will no longer be bothered.

Tycho stirs suddenly and tilts his head to blink up at Wedge. “Never asked you how the meeting went,” he asks, clearly struggling to concentrate as he fends off sleep. “What'd I miss?”

“Nothing major,” Wedge assures him. “Just more progress reports and refined training plans. I'll give you the details in the morning. Sleep now, Tycho. It's okay.”

Tycho lets out a long breath and goes silent again, cuddling into Wedge.

“Do you want me to sing something else?” Wedge asks softly. “Did that help?”

“Please?”

“Of course.” Wedge chooses another song, letting himself actually sing the words this time, making his voice soft and soothing as he returns to stroking Tycho's hair. He can feel his partner growing heavier and more relaxed against him, and it calms his own troubled heart. He wants Tycho to be okay. He wants him to rest and feel better. He wants him to be away from here as soon as possible.

The song ends, and Wedge chooses another. He thinks Tycho is asleep now, but he wants to be sure. When the final notes of the third song fade away, he pauses. No response from Tycho save for soft, even breathing.

Wedge lets himself smile a little with relief. At least Tycho will get some rest. He only prays nightmares won't interfere, though it won't surprise him if they do. Force knows this place has dragged up enough bad memories for the man.

Wedge had meant to spend some time after Tycho fell asleep going over the new training regimen Vessery had sent him, but now he pauses. He likes the feel of his partner so close to him, relaxed and trusting as he is with no one else. Wedge doesn't reach for his datapad. For just awhile, he thinks, he's going to enjoy this, taking in the sense of warmth and safety that flows between he and Tycho, no matter where they are.