There’s a small smile on Tycho’s face as he sits on the bed watching Wedge pack his bags. His partner hasn’t been to his home planet outside of official missions since he left as a teenager, and now that Corellia has finally opened up again, he’s jumped at the opportunity for a personal visit. It’s clear from the sparkle in his eyes and bounce in his step how excited he is.
Tycho is happy for him. He truly is. He loves Wedge, and anything that makes him happy makes Tycho happy. But...this trip also has him feeling melancholy. Wedge is able to go home. Tycho isn’t.
Alderaan has been gone for twelve years, but it’s a wound that’s never going to stop hurting. His planet’s death tore away the very ground beneath Tycho’s feet, and he has never been the same since, nor will be he ever be. That day, he learned the side he was fighting for could not be reformed. He learned how powerful the Empire truly was, how ruthless, how vile. He learned they would stop at nothing, would destroy everything in their way. He was afraid then, and he carries remnants of that fear now.
But on a very basic level, his home was taken from him. The people he loved, his family and friends and partner, but also the physical space. His childhood home. His school. The town he grew up in. Places full of memories he can never experience again reduced to sand floating in space.
Because Alderaan still remains, in a way. The Graveyard stands testament to the Empire’s evil, but also the resilience of his people. A memorial of loss they will not forget and an eternal will to keep fighting.
But it’s quite simple in the end: Tycho misses his home. His true home. Green grass and blue skies and smiling faces – a place he always knew he belonged, the place that bore him. He can never get that back. He can never replace it. He has new friends, new family, the Rogues and Wedge, a new place to belong. His partner has tentatively suggested that when they are married and retired together, Tycho might claim Corellia as his home as well. But it can never quite be the same. That hurts, but it’s hurt for a long time, and he’s mostly accepted it.
Tycho blinks and finds Wedge looking at him, head tilted, a line on his forehead. “Are you all right?” his partner asks.
Tycho widens his smile. “I was just thinking. Not important.” It’s not like they haven’t talked about this before, and he’s not about to ruin Wedge’s joy when he can’t help anyway. “Are you ready to go?”