Evilness, Part III
The conclusion to "It Wasn't Supposed to be This Way"



From here, they were a small cluster. All dressed in black, all standing with their heads lowered. And in the center was the casket, holding the body of one of his best friends.

The friend he’d killed.

He hadn’t planned to come. Wedge had commed – four times actually – to try and convince him to. Hobbie had tried everything from pleads to lectures. They didn’t seem to understand. Murderers didn’t go to the funerals of their victims.

In the group, he recognized Wedge first. Even though he’d been removed from the Bacta tank, they hadn’t wanted him walking around yet so he was confined to a hover chair. Winter, Tycho’s girlfriend, was also easy to spot. Her long, white hair was braided ornately and stood out in sharp contrast with the black dress she wore. After watching for awhile, he was able to make most of them out: Luke, Hobbie, Leia, Airen Cracken’s son, Wedge’s current Rogues….

Hobbie had rationalized his actions a number of ways. He’d started with self defense, that Tycho would have killed him. While he was sitting in the small holding room, he’d thought about that argument. And perhaps Hobbie was right, and Tycho was being controlled by the Empire, but maybe he could have shot in a way that would have spared his friend. He could have shot the hand with the blaster, or maybe took out a leg, or something. Anything. If he’d had more time, if there’d been more distance between them. If, if, if.

There had also been the rationalization that the Rogues were in the hanger just outside Wedge’s office. Tycho could have gone on and killed them as well. That was an even more absurd justification of his actions than the self defense one. He hadn’t even remembered they were there when Tycho had trained that gun on Wedge.

When Tycho had trained his blaster on Wedge…it had all seemed so surreal. He remembered all the accusations that had been thrown around. He never believed a single one. Tycho was Tycho. He would never turn on them. No one could make him do that. And when he had, when he actually had…

When one of Wedge’s pilots had entered the room, he’d looked over and blankly said, “I shot him.” He could still see the Twi’lek’s shocked face, could remember him checking both Tycho and Wedge for a pulse. The other pilot had called for a medic team, and he’d just stood there, his blaster still in his right hand but now at his side. Because it couldn’t have been real. But it was, and as he slowly realized what he’d done… Had anyone ever asked him what his greatest fear was, he’d have told them it was to be forced to take the life of one of his squadronmates, one of his friends. Again.

They arrested him. They should have handed down a sentence then and there. He was guilty, after all. He should have been tried, and convicted, and executed. That’s what happened to murderers. Instead, they’d released him. Hell, they almost gave him a medal.

“Lt. Janson?”

He jumped, noticing a young woman approaching him. She must have broken off from the cluster when he wasn’t paying attention. “You may want to return before they load the casket.” Although the service was being held on Coruscant, they would be flying the body to the Graveyard. Tycho would have wanted that.

She glanced over her shoulder, then looked back at him. “Wedge and Hobbie want you to join them.”

“I don’t belong down there.” He couldn’t quite place her. Must be one of Wedge’s pilots.

“You don’t attend funerals for yourself or for the dead. You do it to help those left behind.” She paused, “You might be surprised how much they can help you, too.”

“This isn’t like the first time you shoot down the enemy in combat.”

She nodded, “I know.”

He wanted to scream at her, to tell her that, no, she didn’t know. Instead he just shrugged. He didn’t feel like fighting anymore. Below, he saw Winter place the flowers she’d been holding into the casket with Tycho. She stepped away, and Leia put a hand on her shoulder. Hobbie turned around to look at him. Beside him, Wedge motioned for him to join them. He shook his head and watched as the casket was slowly closed.

“It doesn’t make it better, and it never makes it right.” It took him a minute to realize she was still talking about what he’d said earlier.

“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed. He noticed Hobbie say something to Wedge and break away from the group. Oh, please, not now. He couldn’t face Hobbie right now. He moved to turn away and retreat. Unfortunately, the girl figured out what he was doing, as he felt a hand grab his arm to stop him.

And a few moments later, Hobbie joined them. “Wes.”

He just looked at his friend, not knowing what to say. Hobbie had tried to get him to talk about things since picking him up a few days earlier. “I can’t, Hobbie.”

“They don’t blame you.”

“That’s what’s wrong with it. They should. They should be calling for my execution. Instead, it’s ‘you did what you had to do, Janson.’ Or ‘you saved a number of lives, Janson.’” He shook his head. “I can’t, Hobbie. Maybe there will be a time when I can, but not now.”

“We’re worried…”

He shook his head, “Don’t be. Just respect my decision.” He paused, “They’re carrying the casket into the ship. If you want to say good-bye, you’d better get down there.”

Hobbie sighed, looking defeated. “When you can…”

He nodded. “I’ll find you. I promise.”