Project Boussh: Under These Tears, the Walls Came Down
by Emily Janson

"Wave to the camera, Janson, my dear Rogue, for you are being recorded
especially for holoprojectors all across this galaxy and your own!"

Wes's wrists were tied behind his back and his ankles were strapped
together. He had been forced into a kneeling position on the ground,
but his torso held his at an angle in an attempt to hold himself up
better.

"To all you viewers at home, I hope you got the ship and droid back. I
had fun playing with them, and if you didn't, well, I'm not liable."
Retsim Naelc was blocking Wes out of the camera's view. He gave a
lop-sided grin that showed off the extensions he added to his canines,
giving the man a vampiric appearance, but only to the Terrans who saw
creatures with extended canines as such mythical beings. "Date:
Wednesday, November 22, 2000. Time: 8:20 PM, Eastern-standard. Subject:
Major Wes Janson of Rogue Squadron, New Republic Military, and New
Republic representative to the Terran task force."

The large Trandoshan from the previous day entered the room, pushing a
wheeled storage closet. "My friend Ahchay, here, is to help with
todays procedings. Now, according to the laws of Darwin, only the
strong survive whatever tortures it must endure. The test is to see
how strong these New Republic citizens are."

Ahchay pulled out a vicious-looking weapon. "This is the lanvarok,"
Naelc narrated. "If used properly can give an extremely quick death,
but seeing how Ahchay is a Trandoshan whose species are known for
clumsiness, it's going to be used anything but efficiently. Our second
weapon is a simple vibroblade, familiar and common to all. The last is
a Terran weapon, believe it or not. It's a little device known as a
nightstick. We shall be using the last one first..."

Ahchay easily lifted the nightstick, balancing it between his two,
three-taloned hands before finding an easy way to hold it. Janson
summoned his strength, lashing out his feet and kicking the
Trandoshan's ankles. The attempt barely even knocked the alien off his
feet, and Wes was rewarded with a kick to the ribs and a swift strike
to the shoulder with the nightstick. The giving way of bones echoed in
the room, and the camera caught Janson spitting a stream of blood from
his mouth.

*~**~*

The disc had mysteriously appeared on the front steps of the cabin,
delivered by some sort of sparrow that Emily had never seen before in
New England or even elsewhere. It reminded her of back one of the
World Wars when carrier pigeons and even dogs were used to bring
messages back and forth between troops.

She had to go off and voice that opinion, as well, even convincing
Hobbie that is was possibly a message from another group or a truce or
something from the enemy, but it hadn't been a truce at all. It was a
three-dimensional holoprojection of Retsim Naelc and his Trandoshan
Ahchay beating, torturing, and eventually killing Wes Janson.

Emily felt sick and had wanted to look away, but disbelief kept her
eyes where they were. It was like when you were driving down the
highway and passed a horrendous accident. You know you shouldn't look,
but you do anyway.

When the recording was over, pale-faced and teary-eyed, Emily ran
outside to the cold of New England winter, hoping not only to numb not
only all physical feeling but mental as well.

*~**~*

"Hobbie, I hope you're interrupting me is _extremely_ important..."

"Wedge, Wes is dead."

The news hit Wedge like an asteroid. _Biggs...Jek...Dack...Wes... It
can't be right... He's been with us way too long for the squadron to
lose him now._ Of all the questions Wedge could have asked, he had to
ask the most protocol of them all. "H-How?"

Hobbie's usually somber mood seemed even more melancholy. Wes and
Hobbie had been good friends since the beginning, getting into loads
of trouble that Wedge or Tycho had to find a way to sort out. The two
were like nerf and cheese. "Captured, tortured, and beaten by the
enemy. Quite possibly poisoned and various other things that we don't
know about. We were sent a recording and that's all that was shown."

Wedge cleared his thought to hold back tears. "Who's 'we'?"

"Me and Emily."

"What?! You let Emily watch!"

"Not so much as I let her as that she was just there. We didn't think
the recording was, well, _that_, so I saw no harm."

"How many people know about this?"

"Me, you, her."

Wedge rubbed his forehead. He was trying to figure out if this world
was better off being left on it's own than joining up with the New
Republic. _I was thinking the same thing back on Adumar, wasn't I?
Only then no one got killed besides the pilots in that battle, but
that wasn't any of my friends._ "Why are younger and younger
generations being thrust into war? Are you and her going to be fine in
the next few days?"

It didn't matter how callous the statement would sound, but it was
still true. "We're warriors, Wedge. We're trained for this sort of
thing: Let war casualties come and mourn over a good Whyren's Reserve
when the survivors are gathered together. It's Emily I'm worried
about."

"Go talk to her. I'll talk to Tycho and we'll try to think of
something."

*~**~*

She was sitting in a tree on a thick branch about three and a half
meters off the ground, leaning against the trunk and gazing out at the
mountains, snow, and other trees.

Hobbie could hear murmurs. It sounded like Emily was speaking to
someone or herself, but she was actually singing something. Hobbie
moved closer to hear better.

"What's coming through is alive.
What's holding up is a mirror.
But what's singing songs is a snake
looking to turn the piss to wine.
They're both totally void of hate,
but killing me just the same.

The snake behind me hisses
what my damage could have been.
My blood before me begs me
open up my heart again.

And I feel this coming over
like a storm again.
Considerately.

Venomous voice, tempts me, drains me,
bleeds me, leaves me cracked and empty.
Drags me down like some sweet gravity.

The snake behind me hisses
what my damage could have been.
My blood before me begs me
open up my heart again.

And I feel this coming over
like a storm again.
And I feel this coming over
like a storm again.

I am too connected to you
to slip away, to fade away.
Days away I still feel you
touching me, changing me,
and considerately killing me.
Considerately killing me.
Considerately killing me.
Considerately killing me.

Without the skin, here,
beneath the storm.
Under these tears, now,
the walls came down.

And as the snake is drowned
and as I look in his eyes,
my fear begins to fade
recalling all of those times.

I could have cried then.
I should have cried then.

And as the walls come down
and as I look in your eyes
my fear begins to fade recalling
all of the times I have died
and will die.

It's all right.
I don't mind.
I don't mind.
I don't mind.

I am too connected to you
to slip away, to fade away.
Days away I still feel you
touching me, changing me,
and considerately killing me.
Considerately killing me."

Hobbie cleared his throat, causing Emily to jump. She looked down and
saw Hobbie standing there, watching here, and suddenly she felt
intruded upon. _It probably took a lot out of Hobbie, too. Him and Wes
were best friends._ "Do you know what AFW stands for?"

"Alt.Fan.Wedge," Hobbie replied solemnly. "It's a newsgroup domain or
something, isn't it?"

Emily nodded. "Kinda. We're not all Wedge fans, though. Sure, it
started out as a fangroup for the infamous Wedge Antilles, but when
other Rogues and even the Wraiths were introduced, it became more of a
squadrons fanbase. The recognization of the name Wedge just sorta
unifies everyone and brings people to the group.

"Everyone has their favorite character. One they feel admiration or
some sort of familiarity to. Corran's a big character, but there's
rarely a person who likes no one from the Fab Four."

"Fab Four?" Hobbie asked.

"Fab Four: Wedge, Tycho, Wes, and you. You guys were untouchable and
undefeatable. This was proved especially at Adumar. You guys were
around since practically the beginning. The four of you seemed to have
a protective bubble of good luck, chance, and skill keeping you from
all harm. Sure, there's Corran, as well, but he doesn't count as a
member of the elite four. And the others could make a four of their
own, but it isn't the same as the Fab Four.

"Wes was my favorite. I admired him. His enemies feared him and his
friends loved him. Cold-blooded killer and fun-loving scoundrel in one
person, a balance hard to maintain but he found a way. Wes was an
optimist and didn't let anything hold him down. I practically wrote
the book on pessimism, so anyone who saw the good side of life seemed
so mysterious and envy-worthy because I thought I could never see the
world from their point of view.

"My holder name was Emily Janson because of that. Sure, he's also
handsome and no girl would mind..." She shook her head. "That wasn't
my foremost reason. That was just the one that everyone else saw.
Being assigned with the two of you was like a dream come true, and I
managed to ruin that part..." Her voice choked up and Emily had
problems gasping out the rest of her thought.

"Why don't you get out of the tree and we can find someway to let our
minds think of something else for some time," Hobbie urged.

Emily's head slowly lifted. "Can you teach me how to fly an X-wing?"

Hobbie laughed lightly. "Sure." He watched Emily climb down the tree
and saw she was only wearing her favorite black sweatshirt to keep her
warm. "How do you even come out here without a jacket?"

"I've lived in New England all my life. I've known extreme heat and
cold, so us New Englanders are supposed to be immune to everything. I
don't even feel cold, honestly."

Hobbie put his arm around Emily's shoulders to help her through the
slippery ice. He could feel her shivering but pretended he didn't
notice. "You're not immune to _everything_," he said.

Emily nodded. _Heat, cold, emotions...even though I don't always act
like it, I do experience them all. I'm just not very good at being
open about it. Now Wes is dead and the other AFWers are going to be so
pissed off at me. Maybe I should just resign from the mission before I
get someone else killed._