At the End of All Things (Jaina vignette, LotF speculation)
It was quiet.
In the distance, the sounds of battle echoed through the fortress, but here it was silent.
The fighting was over, at long last.
And the Sword of the Jedi could finally rest.
Jaina closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the durasteel wall behind her, and just concentrated on breathing for a while.
She didn't want to look at the hangar around her.
Didn't want to see the bodies littering the floor, or the blood staining the walls.
It had been entirely too easy to take the lives of the Dark Jedi who engaged her, and on some level that saddened her. When had she moved beyond the mantra of the Jedi, and become this hardened warrior? When had she stopped feeling that hesitation, that grief, over each life that she was forced to take?
A Jedi Knight only raises his blade in the defense of others, to preserve life.
She was, essentially, everything a Jedi was supposed to be. A protector of the peace, a defender of the weak, a crusader against injustice.
But she'd lost count of the number of lives she'd taken.
And she could no longer pinpoint when she had become numb to it all.
You are like tempered steel, purposeful and razor-keen.
It seemed another lifetime that she had been that carefree girl on Yavin Four, as if that life had belonged to someone else. She could not remember the last time she'd laughed, truly and deeply, or the last time she'd really smiled. Somewhere along the way, the mission had become her life, and everything else had fallen away. She was the one the Council turned to when there was a messy problem that needed to resolved, the one they called when there was dirty work to be done.
She had become the sword, a living weapon.
An instrument of death.
She'd been young when she first heard her destiny put into words, at the Knighting Ceremony on Mon Calamari, just nineteen years of age. Her uncle's words had driven a spike of cold terror into the pit of her stomach, because in them she'd felt the icy loneliness of isolation.
Even surrounded by the people who loved her most, she'd still be alone.
Just like now.
Not three meters away, lay her brother's lifeless body.
His corpse.
She had known, long before she ever set foot within the walls of the fortress, how it would end, but still she had hoped...
Always you shall be in the front rank, a burning brand to your enemies, a brilliant fire to your friends.
Elsewhere in the fortress, Luke and Kyp were dealing with Lumiya.
They would prevail, she was certain of that.
Lumiya was powerful, her anger made her a formidable enemy and she was well-schooled in the dark uses of the Force, but Jacen had been the true threat, and it had fallen to Jaina to confront him.
Others could have gone in her place, several had volunteered, but Jaina had known that it had to be her.
She was the Sword of the Jedi, after all.
The burning brand.
And Jacen was her twin, her counterpart. They had shared the same womb for nine months, grown from the same cells and nurtured by the same midichlorians.
If anyone stood a chance against him, it was her.
Brother against sister, twin against twin, just as the Yuuzhan Vong had predicted.
Jaina had not wasted her breath trying to talk him out of it, she'd tried that before and failed, and the time for talking had come and passed. Jacen had fallen too far, committed too many evils, strayed too much for her words to reach him any longer.
With grim resolve, she had come for him, lightsaber ignited before she ever entered the room.
And Jacen had been waiting.
A smile on his face.
They had come full circle, in the end.
Their lives had begun in harmony, in unison, it was only fitting that their lives would end together.
Jaina pressed a hand to her side, feeling the heat of cauterized muscle, but did not bother to look at the wound.
It was fatal, she'd known the moment Jacen's blade penetrated her flesh.
Her brother's triumphant smile had swum before her eyes as he stood over her, smug and arrogant, not a trace of the boy she remembered.
He had pulled her up by the collar of her tunic, intending to finish the job, but he had underestimated her, as she'd known he would, and he had not realized that the lightsaber dangling limply from her hand was very much still in her control, not until it was too late.
There had been a moment of stunned realization on his face as she struck, and then her violet lightsaber had been driven diagonally through his torso, from one hip to the opposite armpit, and the surprise was replaced with a look of startled, almost bewildered, confusion.
Jacen had looked at her in disbelief.
Had he wondered, in that final instant as the terrible reality set in around them, what had become of them? How they had gotten to this place?
Or had he simply been shocked that she had defeated him?
She would never know, and she held no illusions about whether she might meet her brother again when she became one with the Force. Anakin would be there to greet her, but Jacen never would.
Yours is a restless life, and never shall you know peace, though you shall be blessed for the peace that you bring to others.
So this was the price, the heaviest burden, the Force had to ask of her.
Her brother's life.
She had always known that the mantle of the Sword would destroy her, just as the mantle of the Chosen One had destroyed her grandfather.
Prophecies generally ended badly for the ones involved.
And the Force seemed particularly fond of unloading the most difficult of destinies on her family.
Her uncle had been charged with saving his father, her mother with rebuilding the galaxy, her younger brother with securing the continued existence of the Jedi Order, and Jacen... Jacen's destiny had always been so complex, so unclear.
Jacen Solo, Slayer of Omini, Shepherd of the Yuuzhan Vong, Wandering Philosopher.
How had Jacen, out of all them, become so lost?
Once, after the terror and grief of Myrkr, Jaina herself had lost her way for a time. But it had been pain and despair that drove her into the darkness, and that was not the case with Jacen.
Arrogance, pride, and the desire to control the order of things had been his undoing.
Fear for his daughter, kept secret in the shadows of Hapes, had only fueled the fires of his inner demons, feeding off of the scars that Vergere had left on him, psyche and soul. Jaina did not know whether or not Vergere had been mad, or if her decades spent in the custody of the Yuuzhan Vong had simply eroded away the morality of a Jedi Knight, but she was certain that the year Jacen had been in her care had been the root of all this.
And yet she didn't hold Vergere responsible, it was Jacen that had done this.
Jacen that had let himself be molded into this shade of his former self, that should have known better given how the shadow of their grandfather had hung over them all their lives.
It shouldn't have come as a surprise, Jacen was not the boy he'd been before Myrkr.
That Jacen, who'd been in love with animals and Tenel Ka, who spent his days sprawled on the riverbank and contemplating the ways of the Force, had never come back from the Yuuzhan Vong. Perhaps he'd died there, and Vergere had simply channeled this new Jacen into the empty husk.
And he had fooled them all.
Jaina had never quite understood why she was unable to connect with Jacen after his return, why there was such a deep chasm between them, but she'd always just assumed it had something to do with Anakin's death.
Now, though, she knew the truth of it.
Jacen had come back different, he'd come back wrong, and in her heart she'd always known it.
She had just been in denial, refusing to accept what her mind was telling her about her brother, until the Killik war made it impossible for her to ignore it any longer.
Not that anyone had else had believed her.
Take comfort in the fact that, though you stand tall and alone, others take shelter in the shadow that you cast.
Tahiri, Tesar and Lowie, the only ones who shared her suspicions, had been banished to Dagobah, and Zekk had soon followed them there to put distance between himself and Jaina as their joined minds slowly untangled themselves.
Her parents had been blind, but she could not fault them for that.
Jacen was their son, they had lost him once and could not endure losing him again.
And both Luke and Mara had been wrapped around Jacen's finger, he'd spun his web of deceit and manipulation so perfectly that they had not only dismissed the concerns of Jaina's friends, they had gone as far as to insinuate that the young Jedi that had joined with the Killiks were the ones unworthy of trust.
Including Jaina.
It had all been part of Jacen's plan, no doubt.
He knew that she did not trust him, knew that she was not blind to his machinations, and he'd taken measures to effectively neutralize her, at least for a time.
But Jaina had known that the day would come when Jacen would stop hiding his endeavors, and so she had quietly watched and observed, enlisting Tahiri and the others in her cause, careful to keep a close eye on Jacen at every turn. Whenever Jacen felt she was getting too nosy, the Council would conveniently find a mission to take her across the galaxy, far away from her brother's comings and goings, but Kyp Durron had been her eyes on the Council, ever attentive to Jacen's activities.
And, as she'd known it would, the day came when Jacen grew tired of hiding.
How it had broken their mother when Leia realized that her deepest fear, the fear that her children would follow in her father's footsteps, had come true right under her nose.
They had all turned a blind eye to the changes in Jacen after his return from Yuuzhan Vong captivity, and had not seen him for what he was becoming, until it was already too late to prevent it.
Luke blamed himself for Jacen.
And for Ben.
"Jaina?"
The shaky whisper drew her attention, and Jaina opened her eyes to find him kneeling in front of her, battered and bloody, looking as if he'd been run over by a hovertank.
"Jaina, are you... are you okay?" Ben asked, swallowing nervously.
His right cheek was bruised and marred by a bloody gash that had dripped down his chin, and she knew it would scar. His beautiful reddish gold hair was streaked with crimson and matted to the side of his face. Through a tear on the right sleeve of his tunic, she could see a painful burn, and the smell of scorched flesh burned her nostrils, though she couldn't discern if it was his or her own.
"Jaina?"
"You're bleeding, kiddo," Jaina told him softly.
Ben touched a hand to his cheek, as if he'd forgotten, and bit his lip. "Yeah," he mumbled, and looked down, as if he could not bear to look at her after everything had that had happened.
Of all Jacen's sins, this was the one that Jaina could not forgive.
Bad enough that he had betrayed all of their uncle's teachings, that he had turned on those who had trusted him, but to take Ben down that road with him...
"Jaina, are you okay?" Ben asked again, eyeing the hand she had concealing her wound.
"It's just a scratch," she lied.
He looked so young now, much younger than his sixteen years, and so terribly vulnerable as the ghosts of the past three years chased over him. How had this happened to him? Once, Ben had rejected the Force, because of the terrible sensations that he'd experienced as a child during the Yuuzhan Vong war. Luke and Mara had called it a miracle when he began to have an interest in the Force after Jacen returned from his years wandering with the various Force-users of the galaxy.
Maybe that was why Luke had been so unwilling to see the truth about Jacen, when Jacen was the only one able to get through to Ben about matters of the Force.
But Luke had not known what kind of things Jacen was teaching his son, about the questionable philosophies and methods that Ben was learning. The Skywalkers hadn't seen the danger their son was in, because they hadn't wanted to see it.
Now Jacen was dead, and his apprentice was a broken young man.
"Jaina, I'm sorry," Ben said hoarsely. "I..." he trailed off, glancing in the direction of Jacen's lifeless body.
His face paled and he swallowed hard, closing his eyes as a deep shudder went through him, and when he opened his eyes again there were tears glistening on his lashes.
Jaina pretended not to notice.
"I'm proud of you, Ben," she said softly.
Her cousin looked at her incredulously. "How can you possibly say that?" he asked. "After everything I did...?"
"You made the right choice in the end," Jaina pointed out, reaching out a hand to gently brush the bloody hair from his forehead. "You realized that Jacen's way wasn't the right way, and you turned away from it. For that, I'm more proud of you than you'll ever know, kiddo. I know firsthand how hard it is to leave that path."
Ben looked down, his face veiled by his long, unruly hair, but she could feel his swirling emotions in the Force, that painful knot of grief, guilt, regret and fear that she knew all too well.
"Mom and Dad are going to kill me," he pronounced in a soft, shaky whisper.
"They might surprise you," Jaina replied, suppressing a grunt of pain as she shifted a little. "Both of them have done things they're not proud of, Ben, they've both made mistakes. Give them a chance, they'll understand more than you think."
"I betrayed the Jedi," Ben said, shaking his head, and a tear slid its way down his cheek. "I betrayed them."
"You betrayed yourself," Jaina corrected. "And now you've started to make things right."
"It's not that simple."
"You already did the hard part," Jaina pointed out. "You came back from the shadows, Ben. You made that choice for yourself, even when Jacen wouldn't."
Ben looked at Jacen's body again, trembling. "I should have helped," he mumbled, and looked at her with such guilt that she wished she had the strength to embrace him, to ruffle his hair like she'd done when he was little. "I should have fought him so that you didn't have to... to..."
"Wasn't your place, kiddo," she assured him. "Jacen was my responsibility, not yours."
"I just... I let everybody down," Ben sniffled.
"Not... everybody," Jaina replied, smiling weakly despite her growing fatigue. The world around her was starting to grow dark around the edges, and Ben's face swam in and out of focus, but she drew on the Force to sustain her just a little while longer. She didn't want Ben to be here when it happened, she didn't want him to have to carry this memory inside of him for the rest of his life. "Do me a favor, all right? Go find your dad... and take him Jacen's lightsaber."
"What about you?" Ben asked with a worried frown.
"I just need to rest for a little bit, that's all," Jaina told him with a forced smile.
He eyed her skeptically, his gaze zeroing in on the wound she was concealing. "Jaina..."
"Go on, kiddo," she said gently, but with a firm undertone. "I mean it."
Ben met her gaze and held it for a long moment before looking away, and when he did she saw tears brimming in his eyes. "Okay," he mumbled, crawling over to where Jacen's extinguished lightsaber had fallen, careful not to look at his fallen master.
Jaina watched him climb to his feet and turn toward her, hesitation and defiance stirring in his eyes.
"Get going," she ordered lightly, struggling to hold onto the last ounce of her strength. "Your mom is probably tearing the entire fortress apart looking for you, I'm sure she needs to see you're okay with her own eyes."
"I love you," her cousin choked out.
"Love you, too, kiddo," Jaina breathed, and smiled, for him. "Be brave for me, okay?"
Ben swallowed hard and nodded, licking his lips.
"Go," she whispered.
Finally, he obeyed and turned to cross the hangar in quick, hurried strides. He paused in the doorway and looked back at her, one last time, with pained eyes, then fled from the room at a run. His footsteps echoed down the corridor for a long moment, until the distance became too great.
With a sigh, Jaina let herself sag against the durasteel wall, her eyes fluttering closed.
The Force had sustained her long enough to ensure that Ben was placed on the right path once more, but now her work was truly finished, her destiny complete.
I name you the Sword of the Jedi.
Destiny.
Such a small word, for such an infinite power.
The inevitable. The omnipotent. The preordained.
That which cannot be avoided.
Had the Force foreseen this moment, when it spoke through Luke all those years ago?
Had it been fate that it would end here, like this?
How did we find ourselves here, Jacen? she wondered, too weak to lift her heavy eyelids for one last glimpse of her brother's lifeless face. What happened to us?
Their lives had taken them down different roads, and somewhere on the journey they'd lost their way.
And one another.
Distantly, Jaina was aware of footsteps and others rushing into the room.
Ben must have gone for help.
And strong arms were suddenly around her, a familiar voice pleading for her to open her eyes, and hot liquid fell upon her face as she was lifted from the ground.
With great effort, Jaina managed to look up at him and smiled.
She wanted to tell him not to cry, that it was all right, that there was no pain anymore and that she wasn't afraid, but she found that she was already gone. The sensation of Kyp's arms, the sound of his voice, it all faded away as she left the world behind her, and her eyes found Jacen's body as Kyp carried her from the hangar.
Luke knelt over his fallen nephew, head bowed.
And Jacen's eyes, devoid of the light that had once burned so bright and luminous, stared back at her lifelessly.
She found herself falling into the fathomless depths of those eyes, sinking into their darkness, and ghostly images of the children they'd once been danced across her mind as she found herself stretching outward toward a bright, distant sunrise.
Darkness slid under her eyes, and she slipped into the sun.