Disclaimer: It's not mine. But I sure wish it were. Maybe then I could have saved him.
solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant (they make a wasteland, and call it peace) - Tacitus
Yesterday was my birthday. I'm 33 years old, Galactic Standard Dating. Mom and Dad threw me a party. Most of my friends were there: Zekk, the Rogues, my fellow Jedi, Jag, Luke, Ben. It was good to see them again, alive and whole. But I wasn't whole. Because for the first time since my conception, I was missing someone. My other half. Jacen.
I killed him.
I can rationalize the events surrounding his death all I want. Usually, I can convince myself that Jacen died a long time ago. Maybe during the Killik Crisis, probably during the Vong War. But when the sun goes down and I try to fall asleep, the only fact that remains is that I killed him.
It's not the Dark Side. I've battle that on Hapes a long time ago and I won. It's not seduction or rage or hatred. I just feel empty. Like I've lost a limb and every time I reach out to use it, it's not there. I tried to explain it to Uncle Luke and he called it phantom pains. He believes that my brain will eventually recognize that the twin bond is gone and compensate. But that's the problem. I don't want it gone. I just want my brother back. I just want Jacen.
I can feel someone joining me on the balcony. It's Jag. He doesn't say anything. He just puts his arm around my shoulder. I lean against him for support. He doesn't have the Force, doesn't have a twin bond, but somehow he knows. Maybe because he's lost a brother too.
I love you, he murmurs to me. I know, I reply.
Maybe he's not Jacen. But he'll do.