the light before we land
--a great rushing wind around his snubfighter, audible since he's tumbling down through the beginnings of atmosphere, and the peculiarly sick feeling that settles around his stomach every time he has to punch out of an X-wing with the booster rockets that fire him up and away from his fighter and then blessed quiet as his head smacks back against something--
Sometimes you fly.
Sometimes you fall.
And sometimes you land.
When he wakes, swimming up through a tank of bacta, there's Wes, same as always, only not, and he coughs back the bacta tickle in his throat.
"Wes. I should tell you something."
Sometimes you fly.
Sometimes you fall.
And sometimes you land.
When he wakes, swimming up through a tank of bacta, there's Wes, same as always, only not, and he coughs back the bacta tickle in his throat.
"Wes. I should tell you something."