This is a work of fan fiction. Star Wars is the property of George Lucas and LFL. No insult is intended and no profits were made from this story.

No Other Wish but His
by Arwen

Author's Note: 'No Other Wish But His' was Catherine Howard's motto- which didn't stop her from being beheaded by her husband, Henry VIII. I am NOT trying to imply that Wedge is Catherine Howard or that Farmboy is Henry VIII, so DON'T yell at me. This came to me- title included- while I was eating ramen noodles and reading 'The Wives of Henry VIII' by Antonia Frasier, so I should probably thank her too. I truly havn't the faintest idea what in a biography of all six "Mrs. Henry Tudor"'s triggered this plot bunny, so don't ask.


I stared at the blank screen blankly, fighting tears. Luke was seriously ill and, from what Corran had said, no one had a clue what was wrong. All that was known was that he had been found on the roof of the Great Temple one morning, unconcious and that he hadn't woken up. That, and the fact that he was still alive, was all that was known. There was no proof, but the Jedi suspected foul play.

Foul play.

Those very words made me want to vomit. They were so impersonal. They could just as well mean a game involving birds as anything else. But that wasn't really what made me want to vomit. I should know better than to lie to myself. What made me want to vomit was the fact that

Luke was a Jedi Master. What could do that to him? Who was that powerful?

Or was the fact that I loved him when I knew that that love was irreturnable made we feel sick?

I remember that day like it was yesterday. Shortly after Bakura, Luke told me one morning that we couldn't be lovers anymore. I was shocked. Only the night before we'd made love, deeply, passionately.

I had no idea that there was a problem of any sort. He hurried to assure me that it wasn't my fault.

"I'm a Jedi, Wedge. I can't deny that. Yoda warned me, as did Ben before him: Jedi training robs a person of their ability to feel powerful emotion. Yes, Jedi are immune to pain. Yes, we're not supposed to feel anger or hatred. And that is good. But it has a price. Jedi training, in effect, flattens us. When we can no longer truly feel pain anymore, we can't feel pleasure either. We can't feel anger or joy. We can't hate- but we can't love. Don't blame yourself for this Wedge: it's not your fault. It's mine. If I could, I would stay. But I can't." Saying this, he gathered his things and walked out the door of our cabin. I wanted to chase after him, plead, cajole, and beg for him to come back, to admit that this was some practical joke. But I didn't. I knew he was being honest. I had felt him get more distant from me, from everything. And I knew that this had to be horribly difficult for him and I had no desire to make it worse for him. For me, there was no other wish but his.

I never stopped loving him.

I couldn't. I just couldn't. I knew that the fact that I was essentially grieving for a Luke that was gone was holding me back. I think that is why Iella and I didn't work out. She looked at me and saw that I loved another and knew that I could never love her that much. I shook myself out of memory and back to the present. What should I do? Corran said that there was a medical team going to Yavin to examine Luke. I'd arrange it somehow so that I would go along.

I stood in the chamber in the Great Temple, staring at the platform. I remembered when it had been filled with people clapping an cheering for the boy who had grown to be the man lying on a slab of rock in the middle of the platform. I managed somehow to climb the stairs and mount the platform. I gazed down into his face. His eyes were closed and the lips slightly open. I touched his cheek gently. Reflexively, my hand jerked back again the instant our flesh touched. He was cold. I backed away, staring at his face. Then, fueled by some terror, I ran. I ran down the stairs, out of the chamber and back to the room that I had been given. I threw myself down on the bed and buried my face in the pillow and cried. I cried and cried and cried.

Eventually, I fell asleep.

"Wedge..."

I heard a voice calling to me. I tossed on the bed.

"Wedge..."

"Mmm."

"Wedge!"

I knew that voice. It was Luke. Somehow, though something in me said that I was dreaming, I turned to face the voice. I saw a brilliant light. I blinked. The light, I saw was in the shape of a man- Luke Skywalker.

"Wedge, warn them!"

"Who?"

"The Jedi, Wedge! They cannot hear me! Tell them- you must tell them!"

"Tell them what?"

He began to fade and I thought I saw a shadow.

"Tell them never to underestimate the power of the Dark Side or they will suffer the fate of Caridia!"

Caridia? That was the site of the Imperial Naval Academy. What had happened to it?

"Wedge!"

The voice was softer, weaker, but insistant.

"I'll tell them, Luke. I'll tell them."

"Thank you, Wedge."

I sat up straight on the bed and looked around. Nothing. There was nothing. I touched my head and was startled to find it sweat- drenched. What did that message mean?

"Never underestimate the power of the Dark Side or suffer the fate of Caridia!"

I didn't understand, but, again, I would follow no other wish but his.


Finis


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