Chapter Five A/N: Wow. It's been…two years? grovels SORRY! I just got distracted, stopped caring, was obsessed with other things, yadda yadda… but anyway, here's chapter 5. I have no idea when chapter 6 will come, but I'll try to keep it in under two years!

Disclaimer: The planet Lusitania belongs to Orson Scott Card because I needed a random planet name to use just once in passing.

Chapter Five: Jamie Solo

A week or so later, Wedge headed down to the cafeteria early for breakfast, feeling quite chipper. This lasted while he bought his food, poured his extra-strong caf, and looked for a place to sit. Luke was nowhere in sight, nor were Tycho or Han. Deprived of his three preferred eating partners, Wedge found himself an empty table and sat down, humming contentedly, still chipper.

Then Wes Janson and Hobbie Klivian joined him and the whole chipperness thing went out the window and got eaten by a gigantic construction droid.

"So...?" sighed Wedge, knowing that whatever his odd pilots were up to had best be finished quickly.

"So…!" Wes rejoined, leaning forward on his elbows until his enormous grin was within an uncomfortable two inches of Wedge's face. The latter grimaced, trying not to laugh at the obnoxiousness of it all, and pushed Wes away, gagging in an over-exaggerated manner at the smell of Wes' aftershave.

Hobbie sighed, a depressed look adorning his pale face as usual. "What Wes is trying to say," he explained with an air of exasperation, "is that we have heard—"

Wes cut him off: "—that here has recently been an addition to the illustrious Organa-Solo family, and we have duly recalled a certain matter of monetary dispute…"

Wedge had a sudden flashback to Hoth: freezing cold, lots of Wyren's Reserve and some really dumb conversations which had led to really dumb bets. There had been one about whether Tycho would ever win a game of sabbacc, one on how long Wes could stand outside in his shorts, and, most importantly for now, one about whether Han and Leia would ever get together. Wedge groaned, recalling that while Wes (and a reluctant Hobbie) had said they would, he had said they wouldn't.

Wes grinned as he watched Wedge remember the fact that he owed the younger pilot 50 credits. Wes put out his hand, palm up, and grinned even wider. "Come on, pay up…they have a kid: obviously they've gotten together!"

Wedge rolled his eyes. "Fine," he complained, "on one condition: you tell me the kid's name and I pay up."

Wes looked confused, but Hobbie, his mouth twitching in an almost-smirk, said, "Jamie."

Wedge made a face and scribbled out an IOU on a scrap of paper and grudgingly shoved it into Wes' hand. The immature yet loveable pilot hopped off happily with his pessimistic wingman trailing behind.

Wedge looked at his breakfast and sighed, as it was now cold and gross. He was about to get up and throw it away when Luke wandered over. The two long time friends greeted each other with slaps on the back, then Wedge sat back down and Luke flopped into the seat next to him and stole one of his hash browns.

"So," asked Wedge, "how's your niece?"

Luke shrugged. "Alive. Which is more than I can say for Han and Leia…" he chuckled softly. "Actually, she's quite cute. You should meet her…hey, I know! Are you doing anything this morning?"

"Not really," admitted Wedge, immediately wishing he had invented some fictional task.

Luke leapt up, full of the boundless early morning energy that had made him famous (and hated) during his time as Commander of Rogue Squadron, and dragged the unfortunate General out the door, earning the two of them some weird looks.

"Are you sure Han and Leia won't mind?" Wedge panted as Luke punched the button for the turbolift. He was really hoping they would…

"Oh, they'll be fine with it!" said Luke brightly as they stepped into the lift. "Leia was just saying the other day that you should come over sometime, and Han probably won't mind; he likes you enough. Now if it were Wes or Hobbie…"

Wedge laughed slightly at Luke's hyperactive state. "If this is how you react to having a niece," he said, smiling, "remind me to hide far away if you ever have children."

"Who's having children?" The doors slid open to reveal the asker of this question: a short, green robed Jedi named Corran Horn.

"No one," said Luke, rolling his eyes.

"I did hear about Jamie," Corran noted, grinning as they entered the lift also. "Too bad Han was never a Rogue; I'm technically still alone, unless you count little what's-his-name, Gavin and Asyr's kid?" Of all the Rogues (not counting the aforementioned Gavin and Asyr), Corran was the only one to have a kid: Valin, a boy currently aged one year.

"I think her name is Shine; don't know why…oh, Luke!" Wedge turned to the Jedi as a thought occurred to him. "I asked Han, but he has no idea: do you think Jamie might be Force-strong?"

Luke shrugged. "I certainly hope so! But who knows? It seems to run in the family, so it would make sense, but there is one thing I learned on my travels to complete my training: Jedi, with the notable exception of Corran's grandfather, never had children. What my father did was highly abnormal and against the Jedi code, though I can't say I regret it!" He grinned, then continued, "Since all Jedi then came from regular, non-sensitive parents, I'd have to conclude that it isn't genes, but rather, the will of the Force."

Corran nodded, but Wedge frowned. "Exactly why did Neeja Halcyon get away with it?"

Luke and Corran grinned as they both answered, "Well, he was Corellian…"

Their laughter was interrupted by the "ding" of the door opening at Wedge and Luke's stop. After good-byes to Corran, they headed down the hall towards the Organa-Solo apartment.

Luke rang the bell while Wedge hung back, fervently wishing he could disappear or camouflage himself with the walls and remain unnoticed. He wasn't even sure what the problem was; why did he feel so awkward about nothing? Was it the early hour, that weird 1 a.m. conversation of a week hence, his weird, subliminal fear of babies…Wedge shook his head; it had to be a lack of caf because his brain was starting to sound like Wes Janson. Not a good thing.

Just as he was making this disturbing revelation, the apartment's door opened to reveal Leia. Her expression changed from tired and slightly annoyed to quite overjoyed. Grinning, she hugged her brother, saying cheerfully over his shoulder to Wedge, "I'm so glad it's you guys; Han was saying I shouldn't answer the door because it could be another annoying politician."

"What, have they been bugging you guys a lot?" Luke asked as she led them into the apartment.

Leia rolled her eyes. "You know Han," she said, "once is too many times. He hates all politicians."

The tall, lanky form of Han Solo appeared in the kitchen doorway. "That's not entirely true," he said, smirking. "I can think of at least one politician I like."

"You're sweet," said Leia, laughing.

Han affected surprise. "Sounds odd coming from you, but I'll tell Mon Mothma that you agree…" The others laughed as Leia punched him on the arm.

"Anyway," said Leia, "I supposed there's a reason you're here? Besides engaging in brilliant conversation with Han…"

As Han pretended anger at this slight, Wedge looked on, chuckling. His take on the Hoth Han and Leia bet had been rather stupid, he saw now. They were so good together, so happy…He wasn't reminded so much of Tycho and Winter—they tended to be more serious—but instead of his parents. He remembered watching them as a kid when they bantered and laughed and wondering why. No small child quite understands love; neither, Wedge reflected with a little smile, do most adults. An image of Iella floated unbidden to the surface of his mind. His parents would've loved to meet her and she them. As often happened when he reflected on things like this, he remembered his childhood vision of the ideal future: him, living on the Gus Treta station—probably owning and running it—with older versions of his parents, a wife, and a bunch of kids. No war, no worries, no death; maybe that was the life he could've had if it weren't for Loka Hask and his group of pirates. Sometimes Wedge thought that getting sucked into a wormhole was too good a death for that man…

"Hello? Wedge? Are you still among the living?" Luke asked, having noticed the Corellian's spaced-out look.

"Huh?" said Wedge, bemused. Leia and Luke were sitting on the couch and he had no memory of how they had gotten there. He shook his head and sat down in the empty chair, mentally dragging himself back to reality.

"So what've you been up to lately?" Luke asked his friend. Just as Wedge was getting into a description of the Rogue's last skirmish with pirates in the asteroid belt of Lusitania, Han came back into the room. He was carrying what Wedge correctly assumed to be Jamie as though terrified she would fall and break in half. Leia rolled her eyes. Han maturely stuck his tongue out at her and flopped into the chair next to Wedge.

"This," said Han, grinning, "is my kid."

"At least that's what we assume," put in Luke.

Han shot him a glare. "Keep that up and you might become 'good old Uncle Luke who mysteriously died when you where a baby,' kid," he growled. Luke snorted.

Wedge, ignoring this repartee, leaned over to get a better look at Jamie. She was awake, wide hazel eyes trailing around the room without landing on anything in particular. Cute thought Wedge vaguely you know, until she grows up and starts acting like her psychotic father…