*

He was dying, they could see it. He'd lost the will to live, and without that will, there was nothing sustaining him. Intravenial lines and machines could only monitor him, keep him going so long before his lack of will negated their effort completely. If, no when that would happen, he would be gone forever - joining his true love in a silent death.

It had been three weeks since Lyanna's tragic demise, and time was running short. They rarely tried speaking to him anymore, simply sitting beside him, occasionally touching his shoulder to let him know they were still there. That they still cared, and his leaving would surely crush them.

One night, as it neared 0330, Hobbie stirred. Tycho was dozing, but his honed instincts startled him awake at the faint rustle of bedclothes. He looked over, barely daring to breathe lest he disturb the near-comatose man... who was now moving?

He'd heard somewhere that just before someone dies, there is a jolt of energy from who knows where. The ability is given even the most deathly ill to say goodbye to whomever is there to say goodbye to.

For the first time in all the time he'd spent with his friend, he spoke to him. Maybe it was the Force leading him to do so, he did not know. But, he knew that he must speak to Hobbie now... before it was too late.

As the he was silently watched, Tycho let unfold the story of his own lost love. The light of his life. The fiance' that had been killed among millions in Alderaan's destruction. As he spoke, he could see Hobbie's eyes clear some in understanding... in acceptance that he was not the only one to lose someone in a horrible way.

A whisper stole from his lips, and the Alderaanian leaned closer to hear what he was trying to say. From weeks of disuse, Hobbie's usually smoothe baritone voice was reduced to a scratchy whisper through parched lips, almost difficult to understand.

But Tycho could understand, even if he hadn't said the words... "Will the hurt ever go away?"

He shook his head honestly. "No... but it does fade. Soon all that's left is good memories, and the knowledge she'd want you to go on."

"And if I don't want to go on?"

"Your friends and family, all of us would be heartbroken."

Hobbie nodded weakly and, for the first time in three weeks, his eyes fluttered shut. His weak grip on the necklace slackened as his body went limp.

Fear shot through Tycho's heart. Had his friend given up for good? But no, as he sat there listening in the stillness, he could hear the steady, shallow breathing of a tortured soul finally finding rest in the comfourting arms of sleep.

*

It was a hard road to recovery for Hobbie, but with his friends support he trudged through it. His mother even came to visit from Tibrin, leaving his young nephew in the care of his aunt.

They spoke of old times, when he'd been a child, before the Empire had touched his family as intimately as it had, by now, thousands of lives. He learned that, aloof as his father had been, he and his mother shared a great love. Mrs. Klivian told her son the same thing Tycho had told him. The pain would fade, and the memories would remain.

He was eventually released from the hospital upon the condition that if ever he started feeling a relapse, he would speak with someone. His will grew strong in the following months, and eventually the promised fading began to occur.

It was as though he suddenly woke up one day, and the sun suddenly shone. Yet, the rainclouds hovered overhead, a silent reminder that true happiness is something he would always have to work for... but would never be too far out of reach.

*******