Star Wars is the property of George Lucas and LFL. No profits were made and no disrespect is intended with this fic.

Rogue Christmas Party
by Arwen

Wedge stared at the table glumly. It was Christmas Day, and he couldn't help but remember Christmas when he was a child, the squeals of joy that echoed around the tree as the paper was ripped from the gifts, the sumptous dinner that evening, and most importantly, the love that flowed- as love always does in a family, but most apparent on Christmas. It didn't matter how hard times were, he and his sister always felt richer than anyone that morning. Now Wedge, light-years from the cozy house at Gus Treata and the love, was alone in a badly lit cantina on Folor. He fought the urge to run to his quarters, bury his head in his pillow and weep- this time of year always made him feel his family's death most keenly. He wished he had a family.

"Wedge? Aren't you coming?"

Wedge didn't move.

Anti came around into his field of vision, a Santa Claus hat perched crazily on her head and garland wrapped around her neck. She appeared to have spent some time under the mistletoe.

"C'mon, Wedge, you're missing the party!"

"Do' feel like partyin'," Wedge mumbled.


Anti sprang up and signaled to someone in the doorway behind Wedge. Strong arms grabbed Wedge and carried him, fitfully protesting, down the hallway and through the door of the gymnasium. The Rogues, Wraiths, and WAASers had commandeered the gym for the annual Christmas party. He was unceremoniously dumped in a throne that sat in front of a massive tree trimmed gorgeously. His 'captors' passed in front of him, and he glared impotently at Nigel, Ili, Jaded, and Hobbie as they strutted back to the group where the others were tightly knotted together.

"I should have known Jaded was one of the ones carryin' me," Wedge thought, rubbing his bum where it had been squeezed a bit too tightly. Anti marched over to in front of the throne, followed by Arwen, Feni and Izzi. Anti glared at Wedge as he sloutched, then barked, "Sit up straight, young man, or you won't get any pudding!"

Wedge straightend on reflex.

Anti bowed deeply. "My lord of Misrule, recieve your royal robes!"

Arwen and Feni came forward, threw a hideous cloak of recycled flight suits about Wedge, backed away, curtseyed, and darted back behind Izzy.

Anti bowed again. "My lord of Misrule, recieve the Orb and the Scepter!"

Izzy pranced forward and thrust what appeard to be a snapped-off flight stick covered in glitter in his left hand and a broken grav- ball, similarly covered, in his right. She backed away and curtseyed as well.

Anti raised her arms. "All hail Wedge, lord of Misrule!" The shout echoed about the gym as Wedge fought the red flush that threatened to cause him to outshine the tree.

Four hours later, Wedge, full to the brim of all manner of good food, candy, mulled cider, and a fair amount of pudding staggerd back to the throne and sank back down in it.


Wedge glanced over his shoulder to see Jaded scrunched under him. "Gerroffame!"

Wedge blinked. What language was that?


She blinked irritably. "!"

Wedge stood and she slid out from under him. He sat promptly again.

She stood for a moment, half glaring, half laughing.

"Hey! No smooching unless I get some!" Wes ran up, closely pursued by everyone else.

They skidded to a halt and formed a half circle about the throne.

Glim raised her mug of cider. "To the Joyous Company of Rogues, Wraiths, and Those Who Love Them!"

All drank to the toast and Wedge, surrounded by his favorite people, realized that he did indeed have a family and that the walls were truly pulsing with the love.

Or maybe it was just Nigel dancing naked in front of the strobe light.



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