Dying Embers
By: ZekksGoddess
Disclaimer: The characters and places aren't mine, they belong to George Lucas. The lyrics aren't mine either, and I'll credit them as due. I'm not getting any profit from this, so don't sue…please? The only things that are mine are the plot, and maybe a few characters.
Timeframe: Around the time Dark Nest would have taken place, if it existed in this AU.
Rating: PG
Summary: Life is full of choices- but what can a single choice cost you? What if that choice was a mistake?
Characters: Jagged Fel, Jaina Solo, Zekk
Keywords: love, denial, regret
Genre: angst, romance, slightly mystery
Pairings: J/J/Z
"Afraid of feeling nothing.
No bees or butterflies.
My head is full of voices,
And my house is full of lies." -"Home" Sheryl Crow
Chapter One
Shivers mounted rapidly along Jaina's spine as she surrendered her warm spot in the ragged armchair to retrieve a blanket. Wrapping it tightly around herself, she huddled immediately back into the armchair.
Despite the many heaters and corner-warmers the small apartment possessed, the cold always seemed to find a way inside to seize the young woman within its icy grasp. She could never seem to escape its chill.
The chair she sat in, curled up tightly beneath the thick blanket, was arranged carefully aside the apartment's largest window. The window's view was spectacular and Jaina often found herself staring out at it. But today, as it was many days, the window had been coated with a thick layer of frost, preventing the young woman from seeing much of anything.
With an agitated sigh and furrowed eyebrows, Jaina turned her head sharply away from the window. Releasing a long breath, she could have sworn she saw the warm air crystallize into a misty cloud and disappear. It had been four years since she had first moved to Csilla, and despite Jag's constant assurances, she didn't believe she'd ever get used to the cold.
In the beginning of her time there on Csilla, Jaina would have chided herself on her weak reaction to the cold, but not now. Her opinions on things had changed over time; become slacker…then again, she didn't have much incentive to care about them anymore.
"Not getting any warmer here." She murmured to herself, clutching the heavy blanket to her as she rose slowly and shuffled down the white-carpeted hallway, towards the back of the apartment, heading for the small bedroom that she and Jag shared.
As she eased herself into the bed and pulled the covers around her, she tried using the Force to focus on thoughts of heat and warmth. Slowly, drowsiness cut into her concentration and weighed against her eyelids. Gradually, she began to feel vague touches of warmth…
Heat. Scorching heat. It was too much, a great deal too much.
It took a moment, but as Jaina's dark eyes flashed about, she recognized the place. Ryloth. The Bright Lands of Ryloth, to be more specific. Surprised, she opened her mouth to call for…someone, she knew someone was with her, but the motion made her chapped lips ache and a strange croaking sound was all she could manage.
"Shh." Another voice answered. She turned, and her brandy eyes blinked upon Raynar Thul.
But…but, he's gone. Those two dark Jedi from Myrkyr…Raynar is supposed to be gone!
Confusion held her still for a moment as she tried to figure out what was happening. She felt for a moment as though she had been thrust into some alternate universe, but then realization dawned on her.
She was on Ryloth with Raynar, exposed to the searing heat of the Bright Lands once more. That had actually happened once, it had been real. She must have been fifteen and she and her friends had set out to rescue Lowie from the vile clutches of Nolaa Tarkona's Diversity Alliance. She was inside a memory…her memory.
"Help…help is here." Raynar's roughened voice broke into her thoughts, his arm raising with an incredible lack of speed to point at a dark, advancing shape on the horizon. It was a matter of seconds before the craft had come into close enough range for Jaina to identify it as the Lightning Rod
Suddenly, her surroundings morphed. The sky, hot and fiery, receded in her vision until it was safely locked behind a transparisteel viewport. The uneven, scalding sand and glassy rock melted away and smooth, shining durasteel took its place. Jaina blinked once, and the change was completed. She was inside the ship now, reclining in one of the comfortably padded seats that filled the main hold.
"I must say I think you've had better days." A voice said, and Jaina drank gratefully as Zekk - where did he come from? - held a large canteen of water to her chapped, burnt lips. "Red isn't the greatest color for you."
Ignoring the pain that accompanied the motion, Jaina twisted her mouth into a wry smile. "Maybe we should've switched places. You could use a tan a lot more than I could."
"Hey, this is supposed to be my chance to pick on you, not the other way around! Ah, but maybe I should give the injured and weak a chance."
"Oh, you're low." Jaina responded after another long gulp of the cool water. "But then again, if you think the only time you're successful at picking on me is when I have the disadvantage….well, it shows just how good you are at it."
"I take it back. You're not injured and weak, you're just mean." Zekk said in mock hurt. "Can't a guy have one little second of glory?"
"Nope. You're just not allowed, plain and simple."
"Oh, that's harsh. If you weren't recovering, I'd…I'd…"
Jaina giggled at his pause, ignoring the spark of pain it brought to her throat. "You'd what, tickle me to death, maybe?"
Zekk nodded, his expression grave. "Good possibility."
"Jaina?" Someone called suddenly, and it seemed to Jaina that the voice was strangely out of place. As a matter of fact, she didn't remember it at all…it wasn't a part of her memory…who was that?
Zekk's head turned toward the voice and then back to Jaina, his emerald eyes downcast.
"Jaina?" The calls continued…
"Jaina…Jaina?"
The cold rushed back into her body, stealing away the last vestiges of warmth as her brandy eyes blinked open.
"Jag?" she asked, rubbing the bleariness from her eyes. "What…what are you doing home? I thought you weren't supposed to be back for a few more hours…"
"I tried reaching you on the comm. but there was no response so I decided to come home and inform you myself."
"Oh." She muttered, her brandy eyes flicking to the small chrono that sat atop Jag's nightstand. She'd been asleep for a few hours, apparently. "Well…inform me of what?"
"I'm taking another shift. Don't expect me back until late." He responded, his eyebrows raised at her.
"Oh…ok." Jaina had to wonder why he hadn't just left her a message.
"Were you, uh…having a bad dream…or something?" He asked, his green eyes surveying her face carefully.
Jaina paused for a few seconds, considering his question. "No. Not bad at all."
Jag nodded and moved into the hallway, calling a quick farewell over his shoulder. After pulling on his thermal jacket, he paused in the doorway, his forest green eyes turning back to rest on the hallway that led to he and Jaina's bedroom for a brief moment before stepping out into the frigid air.
Back in the bedroom, still huddled in blankets, Jaina had rolled from the bed and moved to a small stand of drawers that had been tucked neatly into a corner of the room. Sliding the bottom-most drawer open, she reached in a hand, pushing aside a disarrayed pile of holos and pulled out a tiny, purple-coated box. Within the box, after she had snapped it open, lay a sparkling gem encrusted to a shining golden band. She ran a finger along the smooth metal, her brandy eyes transfixed as the lights hit the gem, making it seem as though there were a fire lit within it, fighting to be set free. It was the ring Jag had proposed to her with so many years ago- no, no only four years ago, she reminded herself.
Looking at the ring, her dream sprang to mind again, leaving her to wonder why that particular memory had re-visited her in her sleep.
She shook her head with a sigh and dropped the ring back into its box, replacing it in the proper drawer. The image of the fiery light dancing within the gem, struggling to break free of its diamond-hard confines stayed with her as she slid the drawer firmly shut.