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jt_and_leia2021-08-01 09:44 am
thedarlingone) wrote in jt_and_leia2021-08-01 09:44 am
X-Wing: Inescapable by JT and Leia
Inescapable (2712 words) by camshaft22, thedarlingone
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Wedge Antilles/Tycho Celchu/Wes Janson/Derek "Hobbie" Klivian
Characters: Wes Janson, Wedge Antilles, Derek "Hobbie" Klivian, Tycho Celchu
Additional Tags: Escape, Prison, Rescue, Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Caretaking, OT4
Summary:
Hobbie woke, his eyes opening to the same gray Imperial walls. It was day 97 of his long sentence. Sentence, ha! He wasn't even in a courtroom. There were no courts for traitors in the Empire. This place was his third prison so far and apparently he was so dangerous, he was completely alone.
They had taken his prosthetic arm the first night and destroyed it in front of him before they started torturing him for information. He hadn't broken. Not quite. But he looked pretty kriffed up from the sessions. They also took his legs. Hobbie wasn't sure where those might be. Destroyed as well?
When he was allowed out to work, they put him in construction robotic legs that were hard to use and manipulate. He knew they put a slave chip in his head in case he got foolish. Hobbie sighed, covering his eyes with his right arm. Everything was so hopeless. They weren't coming. Not for him. His limbs were gone and there had been comments about him moving again. This time to Imperial Center, and from there to the most secure prison of all.
Lusankya.
Hobbie tried to stifle the wild panic that name produced. It was inescapable and no one kept their secrets there. He rolled to his side, sitting up. Maybe they'd leave him alone today.
Maybe he'd sprout legs and start walking.
The door slid open and a guard came in, flanked by a stormtrooper who waited outside the door to prevent any escape. "Get ready to be moved, 104," the guard said. That was Hobbie's room number. They didn't even give him a unique prisoner number. Or well, he probably had one in the datawork somewhere, but there'd be another Prisoner 104 after him, and another one after that. "Put your legs on." He tossed down the heavy, clunky legs, plated like those of a 3PO droid, next to Hobbie.
Hobbie started putting the legs on, silent as he kept his eyes on his task. If he’d been sarcastic or looked up at them, it would have earned an extra dose of torture. He finished fastening the legs on and felt them connect. It felt wrong and very painful. These weren’t made for his connections, or even made for humans for that matter. Hobbie stood carefully, hoping not to fall, and looked straight ahead. "Yes, Sir. I've gotten my legs on, Sir."
The guard grabbed him by the arm, tight enough to bruise, and marched him out the door and along the hallway, with the stormtrooper following behind. "You're being transferred again," the guard informed him, obviously hoping to see him discouraged by the news. "The Intelligence escort is here now. Rumor is you're being taken to Throneworld," he finished smugly.
Hobbie's stomach dropped. Anyone who went to Imperial Center was likely to get transferred to Lusankya. Or dead. He could just be killed. That would be the best outcome. He kept his face neutral, looking dead inside. "Coruscant is pretty this time of year," he said conversationally. An Imperial Intel escort. They were going to split his mind like the Hoxet fruit and everything would come spilling out like its seeds. Terror filled him as the news sank in.
They arrived in another small room, part of what passed for a medical wing, and a pair of large patient-restraint droids wrestled Hobbie into a suppression jacket, fastening him securely so he couldn't move either his right arm or the stump of his left. Hobbie struggled in the jacket before being pushed forward. His feet clanked but he didn't fall, thankfully. It was pouring rain on whatever Imp world this was, landing heavily on the transparisteel walkway. They took him to the waiting group at the end of the hall. He stood straight, trying to look unaffected.
"Prisoner K480-987H-0381 is ready for transfer, Captain Cendran," the guard said to the Intel agent. He handed him a remote. "The chip has been transferred into your control. If he tries anything, you'll be able to blow him up without much damage to the ship."
The Intel agent nodded. "Transfer accepted," he said in that crisp Coruscant accent that was so close to Ralltiiri. He was of medium height and build, shorter than Hobbie, but then most people were. His rich brown hair and closely clipped beard contrasted with his light blue eyes. Those eyes looked odd in his cruel face: too peaceful, perhaps, for an Imperial torturer? Familiar as well. So familiar he ached. Hobbie knew he was in real danger if an Intel Agent's eyes could look that peaceful. He would be torn apart, possibly as soon as they lifted off. He looked down, averting his gaze before he was noticed. Maybe he already had been.
The stormtrooper flanking Captain Cendran grabbed Hobbie's arm and jerked him toward the door, marching him along. Hobbie was aware of Captain Cendran following, remote in hand. Would he even make it onto the shuttle, let alone to Coruscant? Or would the stormtrooper 'trip' and 'fall', and Hobbie be blown up while 'trying to escape'?
Hobbie was pulled into the ship and taken to… a seat. He knew he had the jacket on but he didn't expect them to just let him… sit. He settled, keeping his head lowered so he didn't draw their anger.
The stormtrooper plopped down into a seat opposite Hobbie, pointing his blaster rifle threateningly at Hobbie. Insofar as you could tell personality on a stormtrooper, he did not seem the sort of person to let Hobbie distract him easily.
Hobbie chanced a look at the helmet, keeping his head down, then lowered his eyes again. This was an Intel trooper. Hobbie was going to die in their custody. Captain Cendran took his seat in the cockpit after speaking with his pilot. They lifted off, silence filling the shuttle. Hobbie felt the slight shift as the ship jumped to hyperspace, wondering who would speak first or if he could expect a rifle butt to the face.
The stormtrooper dropped the butt of his rifle casually to the floor, making Hobbie flinch. He wasn’t hit. Hobbie risked looking up as the trooper lounged back in his seat.
The trooper yanked off his helmet, revealing a tousled mop of black hair and a grinning brown face. "Surprise!" Wes chirped.
Hobbie jerked his head up in surprise. "You… you mynock!" he yelled, feeling the relief flood over him. "Wes. I didn't…" he shook his head and looked at his partner, his wingmate, his everything. "How did you find me?"
"Intel stumbled across you," Wes said, starting to shuck out of the stormtrooper armor, clattering pieces to the floor of the shuttle. "Our Intel, I mean. Somebody owed Wedge a favor and passed the tip along." Now clad only in the black undersuit, he bounced over to Hobbie's side. "Let's get you out of that whatsit," he said, pulling out a vibroblade.
"There are fasteners. It's made to be taken off easily by guards or droids but not the person inside," Hobbie told him.
Wes pouted comically, but put away the vibroblade. Hobbie turned so Wes had easier access to the fastenings. "They destroyed my arm during my first interrogation," Hobbie continued, "so every time they've moved me, I've been in one of these."
"Yep, so let's get you out," Wes said, muttering half to himself while he poked and twiddled the fastenings. In a moment, the suppression jacket popped open and Hobbie was able to help Wes free him.
Hobbie stretched his arm and felt eyes upon him. He glanced up, seeing the look of horror on Wes’s face. "Oh."
"Yeahhhh let's get you cleaned up," Wes said, pulling out a first aid kit. "You want to help out any, or just relax and have a spa day?" he teased.
Hobbie smiled, feeling tears well up. "I'll help. But would you hug me first?"
Wes wrapped his arms tightly around Hobbie, accidentally poking him in the back with the first aid kit before he remembered to put it down. "Oh kriff I'm so glad to have you back Hobbie," he blurted out all in a breath. "I wasn't sure if you'd want to be touched. I'm so glad we found you. Kriff, I love you so much."
"Normally, I wouldn't, but I missed you. I missed you, Tycho, and Wedge. It was very hard to know I'd never see you again," Hobbie told him, hugging his arm around Wes. It soothed a wound Hobbie didn't even know he had. Wes was here. Tycho and Wedge would be with them again soon.
"Speaking of whom," Wes said, then turned his head and hollered, still hugging Hobbie. "Tychoooo!"
Hobbie jerked at the loudness but didn't try to pull away. Tycho was here too? He didn't imagine they'd allow him or Wedge to come as well. But the eyes. The eyes! Tycho was the Captain.
Tycho came back in from the cockpit, followed by Wedge. Tycho's hair was his own silky blond again, but he was still removing his fake beard and mustache. "Hello, Hobbie," Tycho said warmly. "Feeling a little better?"
"I am now," Hobbie told them, so happy to see them all. "Thank you for finding me. I know it must have been difficult. I'll thank the Intel officer as well, but you… you found me. I didn't think I'd ever see you again."
Wedge got a bottle of water out of the cooler and opened it before handing it to Hobbie to drink. "None of us wanted to give up on you," he said. "But we got very lucky."
Hobbie took a drink of the fresh water, feeling so very much better. All he'd been allowed was water from questionable sources. "You absolutely did. I didn't give up on you but I knew better than to hope. I was transferred all over."
Wes was still cuddling Hobbie tight. "I'm so glad we caught you," he mumbled into Hobbie's shoulder.
"I got your records, Hobbs," Tycho said. "You definitely traveled. But you're here now. We have you," he said, coming to where Wes had been sitting and hugging the two of them.
Wedge wrapped his arms around the whole group. "We won," he said happily.
"We won the best prize," Wes teased, squeezing Hobbie so tight his back popped unexpectedly.
Hobbie let out a moan and kissed Wes's cheek. "Thank you for that. I want hugs from everyone and to go to sleep safe, surrounded by my partners, but I do need a bit of medical attention. But if you hang around, I'll give you all cheek kisses because I am also extremely nasty."
"Let's make it a cleaning-Hobbie-up party," Wes suggested. "There are plenty of first aid kits to go around. And then you can brush your teeth."
Hobbie laughed. "Good plan. I don't… I'm not sure about all the damage, but I've been using spare construction legs when they worked me and spare 3PO legs when I was moved or interrogated. So I can only imagine how messed up my legs might be. I look pretty rough, just so you know."
Wes kissed his cheek. "Bleh. Yeah, you're yucky. I don't want to let go though," he mock-whined.
Wedge grabbed a fistful of Wes's bodysuit and pulled. "Off. He needs medical care."
Wes pouted, but let go. "Okay. Fine," he said, giving in. "C'mon, Hobbs, let's get you patched up. Do you want those legs off?"
"Definitely yes," Hobbie told him. They never fit right. "If you want to destroy those I wouldn't be bothered." Tycho was already rolling up Hobbie's pant leg on the left side to get to where it was attached.
Wes pushed up Hobbie's other pant leg and detached the right leg. "We can airlock them or melt them in a furnace or let you hit them with a hammer," he suggested.
"Airlock. I've done enough hard labor for a while," Hobbie told them. He could feel Tycho gently cleaning the connector area. "How bad is it now?"
"Pretty bad," Tycho said gently. "There's some slight tearing because your connections weren't ever designed to carry heavy construction prosthetics or be slammed around the way they have been. You've got some infection and chafing, and you may need minor surgery to repair everything. I'm guessing bacta will take care of most of it, though."
"That's about what I thought. I could see some of the damage but not all," Hobbie sighed. "I'm going to need so much bacta."
"So much bacta," Wes agreed, working carefully to clean and bandage Hobbie's other leg. "Do you want to take your shirt off so Wedge can work on your back while you tackle your arm?"
Hobbie reached down and pulled the uncomfortable shirt up and lifted his left stump to pull it completely off. There were partly healed burn marks and infected wounds from his torture sessions all over his chest and back.
Wedge knelt sideways on the seat next to Hobbie so he could reach. "Some of these are going to need better cleaning in a sterile setting," he said, "but I'll at least get you patched up for now."
"Thank you," Hobbie told him. "Can someone give me something to clean my stump? I feel bad with you all working while I sit," he teased.
Wes set down a handful of disinfectant wipes where Hobbie could reach them. "There you go," he said.
Hobbie took one, cleaning the grime off and feeling the sting of the wounds. He was going to need a dip in bacta and he hoped that there would be enough. "This is likely a bad time to ask, but how are we doing on bacta?"
"We're good, actually," Wedge said.
Wes grinned up at Hobbie. "We stole some stuff."
Hobbie sighed in relief. "That's good. That's really good," he said.
They worked in comfortable silence for a while. Once Hobbie was fully patched up, Wes hugged him again. "Food? Nap? Clean clothes?" he asked.
"Food?" Hobbie asked.
Tycho nodded. "Food."
Wes dug around in his pockets and produced an array of slightly squashed but still-good ration bars and some wrapped candy. "There might be some cans of real food in the storage," he said. "I can check if you want."
"Ration bars are more than enough," Hobbie said. "You would be surprised how little they feed known rebels who steal entire ships from the Empire."
Tycho brought over some more water, and Hobbie quickly ate the ration bars. Wes stayed seated on the floor by him, leaning companionably against his knee.
Hobbie drank the water, so happy to have it. Wedge checked his chrono. "I need to get back to the cockpit," he said. Hobbie turned slightly and wrapped his arm around him.
"I love you, Wedge," he said. "Thanks for getting me home. All of you."
Wedge held him gently and kissed him on the lips. "I love you. I'll get us home." They released each other and Wedge pressed a kiss on Tycho's head and blew one to Wes before heading forward to the cockpit.
Wes looked up at Hobbie. "Anything else? Snuggles?"
"Please?" Hobbie asked. He had missed them so much. So very much.
Wes sat in the seat next to Hobbie and held him close. "You should probably nap," he said. "I'm a good pillow."
Hobbie leaned against him. "Tycho, come snuggle with us," he said.
"My pleasure," he told him, resting against Hobbie. The pressure hurt slightly but Hobbie didn't say anything because he wanted it so badly.
Wes fished around in another pocket. "I brought some painkillers," he told Hobbie. "Sorry, I just remembered. Do you want any?"
Hobbie nodded. "Yes, please," he said. They all sat up and he took a sip of water then held out his hand for the painkillers. Wes shook out a couple and handed them to Hobbie.
Hobbie tipped his head back and popped them into his mouth. He swallowed and leaned over, getting comfortable on Wes's shoulder. Tycho cuddled with him. "I love you. I love you so much," Hobbie told them.
Wes kissed Hobbie's hair gently. "Rest. We'll be here," he promised.
Hobbie closed his eyes, feeling safe and relaxing for the first time in months.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Wedge Antilles/Tycho Celchu/Wes Janson/Derek "Hobbie" Klivian
Characters: Wes Janson, Wedge Antilles, Derek "Hobbie" Klivian, Tycho Celchu
Additional Tags: Escape, Prison, Rescue, Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Caretaking, OT4
Summary:
After several months in Imperial custody, Hobbie is being transferred to Coruscant.
Hobbie woke, his eyes opening to the same gray Imperial walls. It was day 97 of his long sentence. Sentence, ha! He wasn't even in a courtroom. There were no courts for traitors in the Empire. This place was his third prison so far and apparently he was so dangerous, he was completely alone.
They had taken his prosthetic arm the first night and destroyed it in front of him before they started torturing him for information. He hadn't broken. Not quite. But he looked pretty kriffed up from the sessions. They also took his legs. Hobbie wasn't sure where those might be. Destroyed as well?
When he was allowed out to work, they put him in construction robotic legs that were hard to use and manipulate. He knew they put a slave chip in his head in case he got foolish. Hobbie sighed, covering his eyes with his right arm. Everything was so hopeless. They weren't coming. Not for him. His limbs were gone and there had been comments about him moving again. This time to Imperial Center, and from there to the most secure prison of all.
Lusankya.
Hobbie tried to stifle the wild panic that name produced. It was inescapable and no one kept their secrets there. He rolled to his side, sitting up. Maybe they'd leave him alone today.
Maybe he'd sprout legs and start walking.
The door slid open and a guard came in, flanked by a stormtrooper who waited outside the door to prevent any escape. "Get ready to be moved, 104," the guard said. That was Hobbie's room number. They didn't even give him a unique prisoner number. Or well, he probably had one in the datawork somewhere, but there'd be another Prisoner 104 after him, and another one after that. "Put your legs on." He tossed down the heavy, clunky legs, plated like those of a 3PO droid, next to Hobbie.
Hobbie started putting the legs on, silent as he kept his eyes on his task. If he’d been sarcastic or looked up at them, it would have earned an extra dose of torture. He finished fastening the legs on and felt them connect. It felt wrong and very painful. These weren’t made for his connections, or even made for humans for that matter. Hobbie stood carefully, hoping not to fall, and looked straight ahead. "Yes, Sir. I've gotten my legs on, Sir."
The guard grabbed him by the arm, tight enough to bruise, and marched him out the door and along the hallway, with the stormtrooper following behind. "You're being transferred again," the guard informed him, obviously hoping to see him discouraged by the news. "The Intelligence escort is here now. Rumor is you're being taken to Throneworld," he finished smugly.
Hobbie's stomach dropped. Anyone who went to Imperial Center was likely to get transferred to Lusankya. Or dead. He could just be killed. That would be the best outcome. He kept his face neutral, looking dead inside. "Coruscant is pretty this time of year," he said conversationally. An Imperial Intel escort. They were going to split his mind like the Hoxet fruit and everything would come spilling out like its seeds. Terror filled him as the news sank in.
They arrived in another small room, part of what passed for a medical wing, and a pair of large patient-restraint droids wrestled Hobbie into a suppression jacket, fastening him securely so he couldn't move either his right arm or the stump of his left. Hobbie struggled in the jacket before being pushed forward. His feet clanked but he didn't fall, thankfully. It was pouring rain on whatever Imp world this was, landing heavily on the transparisteel walkway. They took him to the waiting group at the end of the hall. He stood straight, trying to look unaffected.
"Prisoner K480-987H-0381 is ready for transfer, Captain Cendran," the guard said to the Intel agent. He handed him a remote. "The chip has been transferred into your control. If he tries anything, you'll be able to blow him up without much damage to the ship."
The Intel agent nodded. "Transfer accepted," he said in that crisp Coruscant accent that was so close to Ralltiiri. He was of medium height and build, shorter than Hobbie, but then most people were. His rich brown hair and closely clipped beard contrasted with his light blue eyes. Those eyes looked odd in his cruel face: too peaceful, perhaps, for an Imperial torturer? Familiar as well. So familiar he ached. Hobbie knew he was in real danger if an Intel Agent's eyes could look that peaceful. He would be torn apart, possibly as soon as they lifted off. He looked down, averting his gaze before he was noticed. Maybe he already had been.
The stormtrooper flanking Captain Cendran grabbed Hobbie's arm and jerked him toward the door, marching him along. Hobbie was aware of Captain Cendran following, remote in hand. Would he even make it onto the shuttle, let alone to Coruscant? Or would the stormtrooper 'trip' and 'fall', and Hobbie be blown up while 'trying to escape'?
Hobbie was pulled into the ship and taken to… a seat. He knew he had the jacket on but he didn't expect them to just let him… sit. He settled, keeping his head lowered so he didn't draw their anger.
The stormtrooper plopped down into a seat opposite Hobbie, pointing his blaster rifle threateningly at Hobbie. Insofar as you could tell personality on a stormtrooper, he did not seem the sort of person to let Hobbie distract him easily.
Hobbie chanced a look at the helmet, keeping his head down, then lowered his eyes again. This was an Intel trooper. Hobbie was going to die in their custody. Captain Cendran took his seat in the cockpit after speaking with his pilot. They lifted off, silence filling the shuttle. Hobbie felt the slight shift as the ship jumped to hyperspace, wondering who would speak first or if he could expect a rifle butt to the face.
The stormtrooper dropped the butt of his rifle casually to the floor, making Hobbie flinch. He wasn’t hit. Hobbie risked looking up as the trooper lounged back in his seat.
The trooper yanked off his helmet, revealing a tousled mop of black hair and a grinning brown face. "Surprise!" Wes chirped.
Hobbie jerked his head up in surprise. "You… you mynock!" he yelled, feeling the relief flood over him. "Wes. I didn't…" he shook his head and looked at his partner, his wingmate, his everything. "How did you find me?"
"Intel stumbled across you," Wes said, starting to shuck out of the stormtrooper armor, clattering pieces to the floor of the shuttle. "Our Intel, I mean. Somebody owed Wedge a favor and passed the tip along." Now clad only in the black undersuit, he bounced over to Hobbie's side. "Let's get you out of that whatsit," he said, pulling out a vibroblade.
"There are fasteners. It's made to be taken off easily by guards or droids but not the person inside," Hobbie told him.
Wes pouted comically, but put away the vibroblade. Hobbie turned so Wes had easier access to the fastenings. "They destroyed my arm during my first interrogation," Hobbie continued, "so every time they've moved me, I've been in one of these."
"Yep, so let's get you out," Wes said, muttering half to himself while he poked and twiddled the fastenings. In a moment, the suppression jacket popped open and Hobbie was able to help Wes free him.
Hobbie stretched his arm and felt eyes upon him. He glanced up, seeing the look of horror on Wes’s face. "Oh."
"Yeahhhh let's get you cleaned up," Wes said, pulling out a first aid kit. "You want to help out any, or just relax and have a spa day?" he teased.
Hobbie smiled, feeling tears well up. "I'll help. But would you hug me first?"
Wes wrapped his arms tightly around Hobbie, accidentally poking him in the back with the first aid kit before he remembered to put it down. "Oh kriff I'm so glad to have you back Hobbie," he blurted out all in a breath. "I wasn't sure if you'd want to be touched. I'm so glad we found you. Kriff, I love you so much."
"Normally, I wouldn't, but I missed you. I missed you, Tycho, and Wedge. It was very hard to know I'd never see you again," Hobbie told him, hugging his arm around Wes. It soothed a wound Hobbie didn't even know he had. Wes was here. Tycho and Wedge would be with them again soon.
"Speaking of whom," Wes said, then turned his head and hollered, still hugging Hobbie. "Tychoooo!"
Hobbie jerked at the loudness but didn't try to pull away. Tycho was here too? He didn't imagine they'd allow him or Wedge to come as well. But the eyes. The eyes! Tycho was the Captain.
Tycho came back in from the cockpit, followed by Wedge. Tycho's hair was his own silky blond again, but he was still removing his fake beard and mustache. "Hello, Hobbie," Tycho said warmly. "Feeling a little better?"
"I am now," Hobbie told them, so happy to see them all. "Thank you for finding me. I know it must have been difficult. I'll thank the Intel officer as well, but you… you found me. I didn't think I'd ever see you again."
Wedge got a bottle of water out of the cooler and opened it before handing it to Hobbie to drink. "None of us wanted to give up on you," he said. "But we got very lucky."
Hobbie took a drink of the fresh water, feeling so very much better. All he'd been allowed was water from questionable sources. "You absolutely did. I didn't give up on you but I knew better than to hope. I was transferred all over."
Wes was still cuddling Hobbie tight. "I'm so glad we caught you," he mumbled into Hobbie's shoulder.
"I got your records, Hobbs," Tycho said. "You definitely traveled. But you're here now. We have you," he said, coming to where Wes had been sitting and hugging the two of them.
Wedge wrapped his arms around the whole group. "We won," he said happily.
"We won the best prize," Wes teased, squeezing Hobbie so tight his back popped unexpectedly.
Hobbie let out a moan and kissed Wes's cheek. "Thank you for that. I want hugs from everyone and to go to sleep safe, surrounded by my partners, but I do need a bit of medical attention. But if you hang around, I'll give you all cheek kisses because I am also extremely nasty."
"Let's make it a cleaning-Hobbie-up party," Wes suggested. "There are plenty of first aid kits to go around. And then you can brush your teeth."
Hobbie laughed. "Good plan. I don't… I'm not sure about all the damage, but I've been using spare construction legs when they worked me and spare 3PO legs when I was moved or interrogated. So I can only imagine how messed up my legs might be. I look pretty rough, just so you know."
Wes kissed his cheek. "Bleh. Yeah, you're yucky. I don't want to let go though," he mock-whined.
Wedge grabbed a fistful of Wes's bodysuit and pulled. "Off. He needs medical care."
Wes pouted, but let go. "Okay. Fine," he said, giving in. "C'mon, Hobbs, let's get you patched up. Do you want those legs off?"
"Definitely yes," Hobbie told him. They never fit right. "If you want to destroy those I wouldn't be bothered." Tycho was already rolling up Hobbie's pant leg on the left side to get to where it was attached.
Wes pushed up Hobbie's other pant leg and detached the right leg. "We can airlock them or melt them in a furnace or let you hit them with a hammer," he suggested.
"Airlock. I've done enough hard labor for a while," Hobbie told them. He could feel Tycho gently cleaning the connector area. "How bad is it now?"
"Pretty bad," Tycho said gently. "There's some slight tearing because your connections weren't ever designed to carry heavy construction prosthetics or be slammed around the way they have been. You've got some infection and chafing, and you may need minor surgery to repair everything. I'm guessing bacta will take care of most of it, though."
"That's about what I thought. I could see some of the damage but not all," Hobbie sighed. "I'm going to need so much bacta."
"So much bacta," Wes agreed, working carefully to clean and bandage Hobbie's other leg. "Do you want to take your shirt off so Wedge can work on your back while you tackle your arm?"
Hobbie reached down and pulled the uncomfortable shirt up and lifted his left stump to pull it completely off. There were partly healed burn marks and infected wounds from his torture sessions all over his chest and back.
Wedge knelt sideways on the seat next to Hobbie so he could reach. "Some of these are going to need better cleaning in a sterile setting," he said, "but I'll at least get you patched up for now."
"Thank you," Hobbie told him. "Can someone give me something to clean my stump? I feel bad with you all working while I sit," he teased.
Wes set down a handful of disinfectant wipes where Hobbie could reach them. "There you go," he said.
Hobbie took one, cleaning the grime off and feeling the sting of the wounds. He was going to need a dip in bacta and he hoped that there would be enough. "This is likely a bad time to ask, but how are we doing on bacta?"
"We're good, actually," Wedge said.
Wes grinned up at Hobbie. "We stole some stuff."
Hobbie sighed in relief. "That's good. That's really good," he said.
They worked in comfortable silence for a while. Once Hobbie was fully patched up, Wes hugged him again. "Food? Nap? Clean clothes?" he asked.
"Food?" Hobbie asked.
Tycho nodded. "Food."
Wes dug around in his pockets and produced an array of slightly squashed but still-good ration bars and some wrapped candy. "There might be some cans of real food in the storage," he said. "I can check if you want."
"Ration bars are more than enough," Hobbie said. "You would be surprised how little they feed known rebels who steal entire ships from the Empire."
Tycho brought over some more water, and Hobbie quickly ate the ration bars. Wes stayed seated on the floor by him, leaning companionably against his knee.
Hobbie drank the water, so happy to have it. Wedge checked his chrono. "I need to get back to the cockpit," he said. Hobbie turned slightly and wrapped his arm around him.
"I love you, Wedge," he said. "Thanks for getting me home. All of you."
Wedge held him gently and kissed him on the lips. "I love you. I'll get us home." They released each other and Wedge pressed a kiss on Tycho's head and blew one to Wes before heading forward to the cockpit.
Wes looked up at Hobbie. "Anything else? Snuggles?"
"Please?" Hobbie asked. He had missed them so much. So very much.
Wes sat in the seat next to Hobbie and held him close. "You should probably nap," he said. "I'm a good pillow."
Hobbie leaned against him. "Tycho, come snuggle with us," he said.
"My pleasure," he told him, resting against Hobbie. The pressure hurt slightly but Hobbie didn't say anything because he wanted it so badly.
Wes fished around in another pocket. "I brought some painkillers," he told Hobbie. "Sorry, I just remembered. Do you want any?"
Hobbie nodded. "Yes, please," he said. They all sat up and he took a sip of water then held out his hand for the painkillers. Wes shook out a couple and handed them to Hobbie.
Hobbie tipped his head back and popped them into his mouth. He swallowed and leaned over, getting comfortable on Wes's shoulder. Tycho cuddled with him. "I love you. I love you so much," Hobbie told them.
Wes kissed Hobbie's hair gently. "Rest. We'll be here," he promised.
Hobbie closed his eyes, feeling safe and relaxing for the first time in months.