Private Nobody's Son, Nobody's Daughter.

[Wedge Draav]

​

Slow.

Very slow.

That's how he'd describe his R&R. After the outburst at the Senate- a mysterious grant of leave, that he did not ask for, paid for by someone who wasn't him, was put on for Wedge. He was sent away, far away. And he didn't fight it, no- it was a vacation, all paid for, to Naboo for a few weeks. He spent the first week walking around the grounds, going up to the hill- his accommodations at the bottom of it. It made for something to do, something to occupy the time.

Gave him time to think.

Should he have said all that at the Senate?

Probably not.

But his mind was weary, and he was weary of war. He'd been at war for half of his life, and the entirety of his military career. The Senators just propped him up as a piece, said that he was a hero, then sent him to the next war instead of figuring out a way to avoid the next one. For all the talk of peace and love, he felt victim to the Jedi's wars, their powers, and their constant fighting-

He just felt so small. So powerless against it all. He was on the balcony again, sitting down over the edge, his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around his knees, pulling them close to his chest. He leaned his head over his thighs, watching the waterfalls in the distance, cascading against ancient rocks, indifferent to the problems of the galaxy. He took a deep breath, and a deep swig of the expensive liquor that the house came with.

Whoever sent him here for the past week stocked the bar well. And he avoided it for the first few days, but the loneliness and boredom got to him, and he got into the good stuff. Not in a stupor, just enough to relax and take the edge off. Made watching the waterfalls and the nighttime a bit better. The R&R was working, to a degree. It made some things better, but it made some things worse. Loneliness, chief among them.

Wedge had never realized how alone he felt. He took a deep breath, and let his feet dangle off of the edge of the balcony, towards the cliffside. The well-manicured lawns and impressive architecture would again be his company for the night. He had two more weeks of this-

And then after that, he had no idea. Training, deployment. Another war, another fight. With not a lot to show for it. He tapped the bottle on his leg, humming a tune he heard as a child. It helped him soothe himself, or overcome the difficulties of life from time to time. Helped- but not much, as the years waned on. Eventually, he'd have to find a different tune to hum. Hopefully he found it soon.

Two more weeks of this?

He started to understand why some people went crazy in nice places.

He laid back on the balcony, his feet hanging off the edge- closing his eyes. Not to sleep, just to try and relax.

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima had spent the first part of her convalescence at the River Palace in New Sterandel, under the watchful eye of her mother. Much like Wedge, though the surroundings were rarified, after a few days the ennui had settled in thick over her. The truth was, however nice it was to reconcile -- if one could call it that -- with Natasi, Reima had been independent too long to really be mothered anymore. Even before Natasi's death, she had been shuttled this way and that, sequestered at isolated boarding schools for security purposes. And so, once she had the all-clear from her doctor to travel again -- and with a promise to her mother that she wouldn't try to circumvent the Alliance's flight restrictions until she was ready -- had set off to find something to do with the rest of her R&R.

She didn't remember much about the end of the engagement at Coruscant. Things got hazy a little after she and Max Coppores had gotten Wedge Draav out of the wreckage of his fighter. Reima vaguely recalled making a quip, upon entering a debriefing room aboard a 10th Armada ship, that most of the blood on her flight suit wasn't hers before everything went dark. She hadn't seen Captain Draav -- or Flight Lieutenant Coppores, for that matter -- since then.

Scuttlebutt was that the Captain had gone a little bit funny after Coruscant. He'd turned up at some Senate meeting or another to mouth off to the brass. Versions differed as to what exactly had been said and to whom, but the picture Reima was getting was that all was not well with her commanding officer and friend. Wedge was missing from the barracks when Reima called to check in.

Peculiar.

It took a little cajoling, a lot of charm, and the promise of the bottle of expensive hooch she had been saving in her locker for a special occasion for the duty officer to accidentally let slip Captain Draav's whereabouts. Revenant Squadron's commanding officer was on a kind of mandatory R&R on Naboo. A carton fine Galidraani cigarettes earned Reima the name of the place he was staying. Reima considered calling him, but decided against it. He might have refused; if things were as they appeared, he might have convinced himself he was in no mood for company. It would be better to ask forgiveness than permission, Reima thought.

So she had booked a flight -- like some kind of fool who couldn't fly her own ship, but a promise was a promise -- to Naboo, rented a speeder, and booked a room at a nearby inn.

Naboo was beautiful, in its way. The buildings of tan-gold brick and verdigris roofs gave way to rolling green hills in the countryside outside the window of her rented speeder, dotted with lakes and rivers, waterfalls and mountains in the distance. Reima let her navigation system guide her, the unfamiliarity of the drive keeping her just occupied enough that she didn't itch for a cigarette. Another promise: no smoking until her lung had fully healed from its puncture. And yet, now that she thought of it, she could almost taste the t'bacc --

Luckily, the house was just around the bend, and so Reima was rescued from temptation just in time. She eased the speeder to a stop at the end of the appointed drive.

Not once between setting about to get in touch with Captain Draav and the moment before his accommodation came into view had Reima Vitalis been the least bit nervous or apprehensive. Yet, as a hand -- elegantly garbed in brown leather driving gloves -- rested on the door handle, she felt an odd stab of anxiety in her gut. Was this the right thing? Would he want to see anyone, least of all the woman who had seen him at his most vulnerable? She had picked bits of his X-Wing out of his flesh, for heaven's sake. She could turn around and no one would be the wiser. She could call him from the hotel instead of barging into his idyllic rest...

"Don't be stupid," she chided herself. She had come all this way; it wouldn't do to go all wobbly now. Reima began peeling her gloves off, finger by finger, then stashed them in her handbag. She let herself out of the speeder and smoothed her skirt before marching up the walk toward the door. As she got closer she noticed a pair of feet dangling off the balcony overhead. Reima's eyebrows furrowed; was that a good sign or a bad one?

"Captain Draav?" she called up to the balcony, her neck craning to look up as she pulled her sunglasses off. Reima had spoken before she could formulate exactly what to say next. I've heard you're not well and I'm worried didn't seem like quite the tack here. After a moment's lip-chewing hesitation, she followed up with: "I'm here to talk about your X-Wing's service warranty."

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

I remember seeing her- really seeing her, and it took all that time to really see her like I should've the moment I saw her.

​

Oh he hated when she called him Captain, it felt so-

His eyes shot open, his body sat up, and he was suddenly removed from where he was. He had to make sure he wasn't dreaming. He scrunched his fingers on the balcony floor, taking note of every surrounding- and no, he wasn't dreaming, he wasn't hallucinating. She was really here.

He stood up after a moment, a shred of disbelief across his chiseled face. He breathed raggedly for a moment, combing his mostly-unkempt hair. She was below him, and he had no idea what to say, what to think, or what to do.

He stood there, dropping the bottle of liquor.

"Y-You're here."

She was angelic, picturesque. More perfect than he saw her last time. He was frozen for a moment, before he descended the stairs, running his hand through his hair, bare feet touching the well-cared for grass.

"You came for me?"

Wedge seemed to doubt the statement- as true as it was, evidence currently standing before him. He rubbed his eyes, fighting back tears. Someone did care. She did. Out of everyone, out of the whole galaxy, the Alliance-

She came, and she cared.

And Wedge did something he didn't usually do. He walked up to her, and hugged her. He embraced her tightly, unable to stop himself from not doing so. He bit back tears of relief and joy, before taking a deep breath. He spoke after a while, letting the silence occupy the mere atoms that separated them.

"I think the warranties are void when it goes into your torso and cuts into your ribcage."

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima smiled up at him from the walkway, twirling her sunglasses in one hand. "I'm here," she confirmed. The man seemed like he had been through the wringer, reacting to her presence like that. She didn't quite know what else to say to him, but she was relieved of that responsibility when he disappeared from view. She leaned back, craning her neck to see if she could see him, but a moment later he was there, coming out of the front of the house.

"I was -- worried," she said haltingly, but that was all she could get out before the pilot had closed the distance and gathered her in his arms. Wedge's embrace was something of a surprise to the Flight Lieutenant, but her momentary stiffening soon softened, and she wrapped her arms around him in return, one hand reaching up to his shoulder to squeeze there. She had been worried, worried that he was isolated, worried that what had happened to him at Coruscant could be weighing too heavily on him. They stood like that for a long few moments. When he cracked his joke about the X-Wing, Reima flinched a little, squeezing her eyes shut against the memory of all that blood.

"I see your bravado reflex is still intact," Reima murmured dryly, her voice slightly muffled by his shoulder. "That's a good sign. Let me have a look at you." The junior pilot took him by the shoulders and leaned back until they were arms' length, giving him a good once-over. "I'm -- sorry I didn't call ahead," she said hesitantly. "I thought if you were like any of the other fighter pilots I know -- myself included -- you would make out that you were fine and didn't want to put me through the hassle. So I just came."

Reima paused a moment. "Which -- isn't to say that if you really wanted some peace and quiet, I wouldn't leave you alone. God knows you've earned that, at least. I may be pushy, entitled, and self-important but I'm not a monster." She looked over his shoulder, her eyebrows lifting, impressed with the Captain's lodgings. No less than a hero of Coruscant deserved, in Reima's view.

"Are you..." Reima chewed her inner cheek momentarily. All right was a lot to ask for after what Wedge had been through during the battle; she knew that as much as anyone else. Finally she settled on a diplomatic: "...recovering?"

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

I knew that it was all gonna be okay. Everything made sense, everything was alright. Everything was gonna be okay.


She was looking over him, but he was looking at her. He couldn't help it, he couldn't stop himself. He only felt a moment of regret when she released him, but he knew that they couldn't stay like that forever.

As nice as that would be.

Wedge appeared fine- bacta tanks, synthflesh and surgeries made him quite back to fighting shape. Only a slight discoloration on the right side of his torso would be the final evidence that he had been nearly killed... by his own X-wing. Which, all things considered of Wedge's flying history-

Would've made sense that the only thing to kill Wedge in a cockpit would be himself. Accidentally, even, but still.

"Yeah, you're pushy and you're entitled and you're so pretty and I am so glad you're here-"

He stopped, realizing he was ranting. He fixed his hair, taking a deep breath. He fixed his hair, looking out over the landscape. He reached out, grabbing her hand, and pulled her to the balcony with him. He stopped, leaning on it, looking over the cascading waterfalls, lush green hills- taking it all in for a moment, before smiling at her when he turned back to her.

"Truth is, I'm very, very bored here. Relaxing and laying around only gets you so far. But other than that- doing as well as I can. It was rough, it was a rough fight. I'm glad we made it through."

He folded his hands over the balcony, letting silence occupy the space between them, the admission that he wasn't quite alright sinking in. It felt good to say to someone out loud- especially her.

"I was so scared when you crashed. I thought I lost you. Don't know what I'd be like if you didn't make it."

Reima Vitalis

​

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima allowed herself to be taken over to the balcony, where she mimicked his pose, leaning against the railing, her dark eyes surveying the countryside. Idyllic and truly beautiful; she had never been to Naboo before, though of course she had seen pictures. "You know, I was going to tell you off for not contradicting me, but I suppose I can't really be too cross after all that," Reima told him, trying to be the cool, collected fighter pilot that people, even Reima herself, expected her to be.

She didn't feel cool.

She hadn't felt cool since Coruscant. It was easier to show bravado when all you'd known was success. And Coruscant was supposed to have been a success. Reima had seen the footage on the news after the battle was won -- the capital burning, the wreckage of ships and the climbing death tolls didn't feel like a victory to her.

Reima turned, propping herself up on her elbows against the railing and looked over at Wedge. "It was," she agreed solemnly. There were no bones to be made about that. "If you only knew how many people congratulated me before I was discharged, and then after, when I was -- recuperating. They all meant well, but -- oh, these people." She shook her head and looked away for a moment in frustration at an emotion she couldn't quite express. She did that now, her head always on a swivel. Her dark eyes darted this way and that and, reasonably satisfied that there were no active threats present in the area, she turned her gaze back to Wedge, eyes softening.

He had a way of expressing in plain Basic what she felt, but which something -- her upbringing, probably -- prevented her from stating in such terms. Her lips twitched up at the edges as she gazed at him.

"I know," Reima said softly, half-turning to lean her side against the railing. A slim, soft hand reached over to rest against Wedge's jawline, carefully tilting his head toward her. She offered a tight smile that didn't displace the worry behind her eyes. "I know. It would be trite, I think, to say that we would just carry on with our duty. Maybe we would, but that's no answer, is it? But the truth is, I felt the same way when I came across you in that wreck. I sort of... I don't know. I thought that I imagined all the possible paths -- you know, a split second each." She paused a moment, then looked back out over the vista, releasing his jaw and turning to face the countryside again.

"I never imagined -- not once, throughout all of those flashes of would-be futures -- that we'd be here," Reima mused, and she rolled her neck. "I don't know what that means. I don't know if it means anything, or if our combined ordeals have just made me stupid. But I'm glad. We made it, and so did Revenant Squadron. It's -- enough -- for today. For me."

She brushed a coil of chestnut hair over her shoulder and regarded him again. "Are you under some kind of travel restriction? If you're bored here, you could go somewhere else. How long is your leave, by the way?"

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

Wherever cloud nine was, I was above it.

"I know what you mean. I got sick of the thank-yous after a while. Attaboys only go so far."

He took a deep sigh, resting on his elbow. He watched the Naboo landscape, his blue eyes flicking over to meet Reima as she... rambled. He'd never seen her at a loss for words, but she was chock full of them at the moment. He looked down at his feet, laughing. He laughed hard, looking back up at Reima.

"Now all of those futures are possible, ain't they?"

He smiled at her. Not towards her, not in her direction, no, right at her.

"I guess I could go anywhere. Turns out when you curse out the entire Senate- well. They want you to take a break. So, I got two more weeks, standard time- off. Anywhere that isn't a Senate chamber, I guess."

Victory didn't feel quite like victory on Coruscant. It felt more like they survived. But Wedge had been surviving for a long time. Part of him wanted to live a little more. And she felt more like life than a bottle of booze and a handful of Glitterstim.

"What about you? How long you off for- or are you off, at all?"

Reima Vitalis

​

 

[Reima Vitalis]

A little ghost of a smile crossed Reima's face when Wedge mentioned his misadventures in the Senate. "I can guess that it wasn't your intention to impress any of those people, but... you know, there were some Senators that came down on your side. Senator Fortan positively grilled me a about you. The woman loves decorum more than almost anything, but she is sympathetic to the risks of... now, what were her words? -- that idiot general's jingoistic buffoonery." This last bit was done in a reasonable facsimile of Natasi Fortan's Galidraani accent. "I suspect that General will learn, to her peril, that it is possible to ask too much of even the most dedicated men," Reima mused soberly.

Despite her better intentions, Reima was now jonesing for a cigarette something fierce, the spot between her middle and index fingers where one would perch so stylishly between drags almost itching, and her fingers flexed subtly. As to her return to duty, that was all up in the air, it seemed. "Medical leave, yes, until I'm medically cleared. There's only so much bacta can do to accelerate the healing of a broken rib, but I've got an appointment with the Navy sawbones for clearance in..." Her voice trailed off as she checked her wristwatch, a platinum, vintage confection. "... ten days' time."

She edged closer to him, ostensibly so as to not need to talk so loud -- not that she was, she just quite liked the warmth of his solid frame beside her. Changing tack, looking for a more pleasant thing. There would be plenty of time, if they wanted it, to talk about the shadows of war and penumbras of their respective casualties.

"So -- gun to your head -- anywhere in the galaxy -- where would you go?"

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

She was itching for a cigarette. Me? I was itchin' for her.


"I'm just tired, I guess. I guess we all are. Can't fault them for wanting to finish them off but-" He looked over at her, spinning to where his back was against the railing, his elbows resting on it, while he thought how to diplomatically finish the statement.

"Easy to start a war from a Senate chamber."

She got closer and he got more relaxed. She was wearing perfume- or maybe she just smelled as good as she looked all the time. Hard to tell. Her question was thought-provoking to say the least.

"Depends, I guess. If I were to tell your mom where I'd want to take you, I'd say Dantooine, where we could spend the days on the plains, fields, and all those cool old ruins." He tilted his head towards her, mischievous as he was. "And then we'd go to Nar Shaddaa to blow four months of paychecks having fun in less than a week."

He wiggled his eyebrows at her, his fingers reaching out to quell her shaking ones. He knew the habit she had, didn't mind it all that much- just wished that she didn't feel the need to.

"So, you like the shave?"

What he should have said was: you didn't like the mustache, so off it went.

Reima Vitalis

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima beamed at him at the mention of a fake idyllic retreat to Dantooine. It sounded almost educational, and there was a time and place for that, but -- Nar Shaddaa. Reima had been there once, for a podrace she was taking part in. She had loathed it then, but that was a decade ago. Reima had grown up from the inveterate snob she had been as a sullen teenager -- which, perhaps ironically, was down to the influence of Wedge Draav and Revenant Squadron.

She had entered the Starfighter Corps because she wanted speed and flash an adventure and thrills and because she didn't care if she lived or died. It was her tenure with Revenant Squadron that taught her service and duty, had turned the solitary rebel into a teammate. "Four months of paychecks could get us quite a time on the Smuggler's Moon," she agreed, her voice thoughtful. "That's fill the hot tub with champagne money. That's put it all on black money."

Of course, Reima's inheritance had only grown with her investments, so she wasn't quite familiar with what it was like to risk it all financially, but -- well, some things were better left unsaid.

Her eyes went to his lips when he mentioned his shave, her own lips curling up into an enigmatic smile. "You know, I was just getting used to that bristle brush of yours," Reima said playfully. The truth was the mustache had been the least of her concerns, but it was somethings he could hassle him about, something to build their rapport. "I like it, though. You look very... sleek. Debonaire, even."

Her dark eyes went back up to his eyes, and she became uncomfortably aware of a blush in her cheeks. She bit her bottom lip anxiously, then deployed her signature half-smile. "There's just one way to be sure, though," Reima said, a subtly flirtatious challenge in her tone as her head tilted fractionally closer. Bold for a woman like Reima Vitalis.

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

Everything before didn't matter. She gave it meaning, the things before.


He couldn't think of what to say to her last statement, not for a while at least. But instead of thinking, he could smile, after all. His lips curled upward, white teeth against the darker blues of the night. He was so-

So into it, into her. Everything about her.

"You wanna bet it all on black?"

He asked. He asked a lot of things without saying them. Wedge had a certain way of speaking- a very direct, to the point tone. His words were often mixed with how he looked, where he was, and who he was with- rather than what he said. His words carried meaning and weight simply that they came from him- everything he said, he meant, everything he did, he meant.

And he meant that he wanted to bet it all on black with her.

Reima was just as bold as he was. Maybe not as reckless and as dangerous, but-

Still bold.

But he wasn't going to let anyone say that she kissed him first. No, he kissed that woman, that high-class woman, right there on the balcony, before she could say, do, or think anything else. He broke off from her, staring at her. His hand reached up to touch that pretty face of hers- and how soft it was. He didn't even feel remotely close in terms of appearance. He was rough, reckless- she was regal, beautiful, way smarter and more informed than he could even hope to be.

And somehow, there she was, right in front of him. In front of him longer than he cared to admit.

Picture-esque. Worthy of any movie or novel. He grinned again, holding her by the hands.

"I can always grow it back, you know."

Reima Vitalis

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Vitalis gets results!

It wouldn't have been accurate to conclude that Reima Vitalis had planned to spur the Captain into action with her textbook body language, but she had rather been hoping he might react in kind. She worried that the fraternization rules might have made Wedge too timid to push the envelope, but here they were, envelope decisively pushed.

Vitalis may have gotten results, she mused, but she had been a fool to put 'timid' and 'Wedge Draav' in the same sentence.

And then he did that suave, smooth flyboy thing. So dry, so cool. Reima envied him, really. She was at her coolest when she wasn't speaking because, as noted, she had a tendency to ramble (and in prose, too). Maybe that was why she smoked so much. It kept her mouth otherwise occupied.

"Let's not be hasty," she said, her voice slightly mischievous in response to his offer to grow the mustache back. If she ever had the occasion to introduce him to her family in a personal manner, a clean shave would go a long way.

Acutely aware, now, of his hand on her cheek, mainly because of how warm her cheek now felt under his fingers. She broke into a broad smile. "Want to go? To Nar Shaddaa. Or Canto Bight. Or the Wheel. Or Hologram Fun World. Or to that lake I passed on the way. Or anywhere?"

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

I wanted her now, then, forever.

"Let's not be hasty,"

God that voice- she could ask him to move the stars and he'd move the galaxy just to make sure she'd be satisfied with the results. He kissed her again, unable to simply help himself. How could he?

He got to kiss Reima Vitalis. What man wouldn't take that chance to do it again, and again-

And maybe the rest of his natural-born life.

"Pretty lady, I wanna take you anywhere and everywhere. But Naboo has good nightlife, I hear. So let's you and I-"

His hand fell from her cheek, as he walked backwards into the open door of the house. He wasn't fit to go out, not like this.

"Go out on the town, and pretend like nothing else exists but you, me, and the paychecks I'm about to spend on our drinks."

Not that she needed him to- she was loaded with cash so much that it weighed her down, in life, and maybe physically at times. But here and now, she wasn't the daughter of anyone, some nobility, and he wasn't a war hero, he wasn't some hotshot pilot, or hero of the Alliance or what have you.

No, tonight he was hers, and hers alone.

Wedge turned his head, as he got back inside the house.

"No peeking."

With that, he went off to put on his out-in-the-town outfit. Was it his uniform? Or something nicer?





Reima Vitalis

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima couldn't help but laugh, a laugh he wouldn't have heard before. Not the indulgent chuckle she employed as a pilot, the kind of I'm hot shit but that thing you just said? That was pretty all right laugh. This altogether more delicate and melodious laugh, almost a giggle, had been kept in reserve for so long that she was almost sure it was gone forever.

"I'm game," she said to his proposition, smiling at him quite breathlessly, for those had been quite the showstoppers as far as kisses were concerned. Normally, her Galidraani reserve wouldn't have allowed such frivolity, but even Galidraanis made exceptions in times of war and uncertain futures, especially for young people, and doubly especially for heroes -- a number she counted Wedge among, naturally.

She followed him into the house, but only so far as the doorway. "No peeking," she agreed with a laugh. Reima let her eyes trace over the house, studying the architecture and decor in a detached sort of way. She was interested in architecture in an abstract kind of way... seeing how other people lived, some idea of the different cultures that populated the galaxy.

Reima caught a glimpse of her reflection in a mirror, suddenly wondering whether her pencil skirt and blouse was appropriate for whatever Wedge had in mind. "Do I need to change?" she called after him. "I've got some things in the boot of the speeder."

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

Could she? Could she look better than she was?


He was clasping over the collar on his suit- a rather high-fashion piece from the Inner Rim, when he turned his head towards her, smirking as he fixed his collar in the small mirror by the door. He did leave the door open a crack-

After all, why work out so much, when nobody could see it?

A splash of cologne, a touch up of a shave- and Wedge was out in a few moments, pressing down the collar over his jacket, and the front. No Alliance logo, no emblem, no hidden gun. Just him and a nice suit.

"I'm sure whatever you got in the trunk of the speeder couldn't make you look any better."

His eyes flicked up and down her figure.

"I hope your speeder goes fast. I've been dying to go fast out here-" He walked forward, and scooped up his lady- his hands in respectable positions, smirking. She was thin- but not petite or dainty. A strong woman, just like everyone that came from that planet with the funny accents.

"Now let's go fast together, pretty lady."

He kissed her again. How could he not? He carried her out to the speeder, ready to hit the town- a good four miles away, give or take. He wanted to see how good- and how fast she'd push the speeder. He dropped his woman, near the driver's side, and climbed into the speeder, jumping over it. Perhaps that was just his normal way of doing things- or maybe he'd been cooped up too long and needed to burn off energy, or maybe he wanted to show off his athleticism.

All of which, could be true at the same time. He spread his arm over the back of the seat, waiting for her to get in. His eyes looked up to the sky, unable to stop himself from smiling.


Reima Vitalis

 

[Reima Vitalis]

S P E E D​

Reima raised her eyebrows when the Captain came back out in that suit. "Well, don't you shine up like a new credit?" she asked, giving him a not-terribly-subtle once-over. Then, popping her sunglasses back on, the young lady half-turned to head out to the speeder before being surprised by his scooping her up, literally sweeping her off her feet. She gave a bark of laughter and half-hearted protest -- "Don't re-open your wounds!" -- but it was too late and he didn't seem much worse for wear.

When he finally put her down again at the speeder, she opened the door and dropped into the seat. "All right, let's see what this thing can do," she said. "Let me just -- there." Her fingers danced across the control surface, almost as if it was the instrument panel of her starfighter, and after a series of subtle whirs and clicks, the roof of the speeder separate from the windscreen and began to fold back. Reima buckled herself in, gave herself a quick glance in the rearview mirror, then fired up the engine.

She had no idea where they were going, aside from town, and she figured she had some leeway as far as getting there. Reima started slow on the residential street, but the moment they were on the real road, she put her foot down. The speeder's engines gave a soft, high-pitch whine as the ship accelerated steadily. Reima glanced over at Wedge, her dark hair like a comet's tail behind her head, and gave him an enthusiastic grin. "It's no X-Wing," she told him, her voice tinged with a little chagrin.

And without waiting for an answer, her right hand dropped to the gear selector and she cranked the speeder out of economical mode and into performance, ratcheting up the speed. She throttled forward, the speed pressing her slight frame into the leather of the driver's seat. "Fast enough for you, Captain?" she called over the now-roaring engine.

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

Reima Vitalis

Her smile? I'd drink it if I could. Told myself I was supposed to make her smile like that every day. That was the goal.


She was watching the controls and the road, he was watching her.

He could see her words, see her perfume. See how her hair moved in the wind, see how she laughed, grinned, smiled. See how she made things better. Easier. Everything faded away. All the darkness in his life, all that pain he was carrying-

She just turned on the light, sending the darkness scurrying away. She was the sunlight he'd been waiting for. He couldn't help but stare. He couldn't say anything- what else was there to say?

"Baby doll you know I want this thing to go as fast as you can make it."

Wedge was a daredevil, a rogue- a speed freak. And totally, without a doubt- madly in love with the girl driving the speeder next to him. She had such an eloquent way of speaking, thinking, moving. She was beauty personified, elegance and class. Everything he wasn't. He was born to poor parents, born to not much and made something of himself. He didn't have table manners (much), he didn't know how to dance like she did. She was the grace of her people, she was the person he aspired to be. Brave, fearless- and classy.

What a woman.

But damn it all, that woman? That woman pulled every string he had, every fiber pulling him into her orbit. She was the sun, and he was a planet in her orbit. And damn it, if he wouldn't have it any other way. He leaned on the side of the speeder, tilting his head back. It was good to be out of that house, going fast, going far-

But not going alone. He spoke up at the stars as they passed.

"You make me happy, pretty lady. I think you know that."

Not content, not satisfied, nothing- no, he used that word for a specific reason. She was the first thing, the first thing in a very, very, very long- and maybe ever, that made him truly happy.

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima wasn't used to the way he looked at her. It was -- almost pure, for lack of a word that more accurately captured it. She had never been the object of anyone's happiness before, not that she could remember. Not that she was a novice to friendships or flings or whatever this thing with Wedge would turn out to be. Endgame, perhaps, if he believed the same things she did: monogamy, fidelity. She had outgrown the idea of love as a fairytale with all the trappings that came with it.

But it was hard not to believe, when he looked over at her like that and called her pretty lady, that there might be something like a prince charming out there for her. No, she corrected herself as she turned her attention back to the road with an enigmatic half-smile. Not out there. Right here.

Reima ended up lapping the town a few times in the rental speeder at great speed, tearing through the idyllic hedge-lined roads and over ancient cobbles, under the arches of waterfalls and along rushing rivers. There were parts of it that reminded her of Herevan, the home she had sold to a stranger. The castle sat astride a broad river that powered its hydroelectric plant, that fed all its irrigation, that populated the dozens of little fountains that peppered the house. Their climates weren't particularly similar, Naboo and Galidraan, but Reima thought if she squinted just right, a spring day on Naboo might just pass for a summer day at home.

Under her expert controls, the speeder raced along a verdant plain toward a cliff-edge, right along where the apex where a river turned into a foamy veil of waterfall, stopping only at the very last moment. She tugged her sunglasses off and looked out at the town sprawled beneath the cliff, then over at Wedge. Part of her wanted to warn him, to send him running for cover. Reima was a difficult person. Even the people who loved her most would attest to that. And Wedge Draav? Didn't he deserve better?

But instead of telling him to find something better, she merely sighed and reclined against the leather of her seat, drinking in the view of him and the vista beyond him. "I didn't," she said quietly. "I only hoped. But I'm so glad." And she smiled, not the sardonic, cynical half-smile she usually deployed. She reached over to him, lithe fingers gently adjusting his collar. "I think I'm happy, too, right now."

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

Reima Vitalis

If I was asleep, I never wanted to wake up.

She looked, talked, and moved like an angel and drove like a demon.

That's why he loved her, after all. Head to toe, couldn't love her any harder than he did. He fixed his hair when they stopped, letting out a happy shout, looking up at the sky, the endless galaxy before them. His hand found itself on top of her knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

If she was happy, he was happier. It was that easy.

"I grew up on Anaxes and Coruscant- you know. Never seen so much green in my life, 'til I joined the Alliance. Got to see so much, and I ain't even seen all of it." He turned his head towards Reima, giving her a once over. Particularly her legs and pretty face.

And he kissed her again, before speaking, his soft baritone voice with his vaguely Inner Rim accent. Not as posh as she was, but, that's what made him so head over heels with that woman next to him. He stood up in the speeder, leaning over the windshield. His eyes looked over the sprawl of the city below them, lights shifting as people, speeders, and everything else moved.

"Ain't it somethin'? All that, all them. Sometimes I wish I wasn't you know- me."

Didn't want to be him all the time- at war, in a fight, always worrying about this and that. Command hit him hard, losing people was hard. The war at Coruscant was tough enough- and he felt like he only scraped by. He climbed down, sitting back in the speeder, taking a deep breath.

"What was it like, growing up all fancy-like?"

Reima Vitalis

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima regarded him with a curious look, her jaw working anxiously for a few moments. "I think it might surprise you how fancy my growing-up wasn't," she told Wedge. "My mother died when I was a baby, and she didn't make a lot of provision for me. My brother George was her big project; she left detailed instructions for his education, his establishment, his training. He was the Duke of Foxfield from the time my father died and the Earl of Herevan once my mother died, so he had... you know. Obligations. Me? Nothing at all."

She ran a hand through her dark chestnut locks. She didn't love talking about this part of her life, but given the adventure they were embarking on, it seemed like he had a right to know. "She explained it to me while I was laid up last week, actually. Something about her having had expectations laid on her by her parents and society and all that nonsense, and wanting to empower me to find my own path. I actually grew up at various boarding schools. It was perhaps privileged, but fancy? Cold showers and rock-hard beds, more like."

She gave a sardonic grunt of a laugh. "I suppose it's churlish of me to complain about it. It wasn't comfortable but the education was world-class, after all, but I didn't get access to my trust fund -- and therefore my extravagant luxury phase -- until my late teens. And I recently discovered that I am, in fact, a princess, a royal highness in fact, and second in line to the First Imperial crown-in-exile and the Renascent Republic." Her eyes narrowed a little at the absurdity of it all.

"Pretty stupid, right?" Reima wasn't picking a silverware pattern by any means, but part of her wondered in the back of her mind what that meant for them. Did Wedge have any interest in being part of a royal family? If not, would he want her to renounce it? She hadn't had much time to think of it, only having learned of these royal technicalities days ago. She wasn't even sure if she could.

She put her arm over the back of his seat, fingers settling on his opposite shoulder, gently scratching. Reima wanted to know more about him. "What's Anaxes like? I've heard of it, of course, but I've never been there."

Wedge Draav​