ALL ANGLES


Title:  All Angles
Author:  TKeiraLea
Timeframe:  NJO – specifically during Dark Journey
Characters:  Jagged Fel, Jaina Solo, Shawnkyr Nuruodo, Leia Organa Solo, Han Solo, Kyp Durron, Tenel Ka, Ta'a Chume, Lowbacca
Genre:  Romance, Drama, Action
Keywords: Jaina, Jag, Trickster
Notes:  Second part of the Force Evolution Series
Summary:  A series of vignettes revolving around the events of Dark Journey.  Events are seen from Jag Fel's POV, including several missing scenes.

Thanks to Hoya94 and ZaraRose for proofing this!


THE DREAM

The swirling wind whipped snow flurries all around him, sometimes blinding him in a sheet of white. Other times he could just discern the outline of a figure in the distance. The figure was moving across the glacier, through the blizzard at a slow run, as fast as the elements would allow. A violet light illuminated the hooded form from behind. The light moved back and forth in rhythm with the figure's gait.

He called out, fearing for the person on the glacier. The figure stopped for a moment at the sound of his voice, but never turned to face him. Then the form resumed its trek through the storm. The pace was more urgent than before.

He left the relative protection provided by the proximity to the main estate building to follow the misplaced traveler. His hunt was made all the more difficult from fighting through the drifts of snow, but he trudged forward, undaunted by the task. Some force was pulling him like a magnet, driving his feet faster and faster.

He thought he would never catch up, but then the figure stumbled and fell. As he approached he could make out the tiny shape of a blue robe, cloaking a petite figure kneeling in the snow. He called again, driven by a gnawing desire to protect this being's life.

The figure turned at the sound of his voice. Instead of a stranger under the hood, there was the delicate face of Jaina Solo. The features held him captivated, just like the first time he saw her on Ithor. Her skin was flawless. Brown hair cascaded out of the hood, capturing snowflakes in its tendrils. Those eyes beckoned him to come to her and take away the sadness hidden there. He had known those eyes his whole life, and yet he had never seen them sad like this. Her eyes reflected the brilliant violet rays emanating from the lightsaber grasped in her hand as they drowned in a watery pool.

Then the tears fell, like a dam breaking. Her hand came up; her fingers outstretched, beckoning for a touch. He reached out, his farthest finger hungering for the feel of her. Their fingers were so close he could almost feel the electricity spark between the two.

In a cruel twist, the wind swirled heavier gusts. The electric edge he felt came to life in a swirl of violet lightning pulsing amidst the flurries. As he blinked away the piercing snow buffeting his eyes, he realized she was being barraged by the streaks of energy. Each strike diminished her presence until she was just a ghost. The lightsaber dropped through her hand, which was no longer corporeal.

Jag fell to his knees and grasped her in his arms. He met the warmth of her body, beneath his embrace. Some part of her was still whole. There was still a chance. Her arms wrapped around him, clutching his waist in a desperate attempt to anchor herself. She cried into his chest.

"Please save me!"

He pulled her closer still, but the warmth of her body was fading with the wind. Energy still crackled through her, catching him sometimes in painful bursts where they touched, but he refused to release her to the cruel fate that begged to be fulfilled. He tried to adjust his grip, to find something real to grasp. When he did, she slipped into the rush of the wind, pieces of colored snowflakes disappearing into the heavens.

He sobbed. "Don't go."

A pleading voice cried out on the wind. "Jag!"

Her voice was carried away, and then she was completely gone. Even in spirit he was alone. All that was left in her wake was the blinding fury of the storm.

Jag shot up in the bed. Sweat beaded down his bare chest. His lungs begged for air. It was not the first time in his life he had been assaulted by such a vivid dream. They came often since he had returned to the Unknown Regions. Even though he had not seen Jaina since Ithor, she haunted his slumber, like she had taken up residence in his soul.

Jag recalled the last time he had really been with Jaina, the day on the Chimaera before the battle for Ithor. He had drummed up the nerve to ask her to lunch. Only when they had arrived at the mess, Jag had discovered what an awful blunder he had made. In spite of his usual calculating mind, he had failed to foresee that he would be leading her into a room brimming with Imperials.

She had stiffened visibly at the sight of the mess; he had felt it as surely as if his own body had done so. Then she had thrown her chin up in defiance and walked in as though she owned the Star Destroyer. Jag was not sure who had been more impressed, himself or the hundreds of Imperial soldiers who had stopped everything to cast their eyes on the petite beauty in the New Republic orange flightsuit. If he had doubted it before, Jag knew that his heart was no longer his own.

Now all Jag had left, since returning to Csilla, were his dreams. There was not a part of her he could not recall in vivid detail, down to the amber flecks in her eyes. Never before had his dreams taken such a horrifying turn though. As surely as the sun set on Csilla, Jag knew something terrible had happened to Jaina.

Jag rose and pulled on his flightsuit. He eyed the backlit face of the chrono on the wall – 0600. His father would be working already. It was time to resubmit his request to return to New Republic space. Jag put his parka on, one arm at a time before picking up his pilot's bag to sling over his shoulder.

When he had left on the first mission, Jag had never imagined wanting to be anywhere but here on Csilla. Now all he could think of was joining the fight. He corrected himself. All he could think of was seeing Jaina one more time. His thoughts raced with arguments, knowing his father would fight him at every turn. Maybe he would simply leave of his own accord. He was a grown man; Soontir Fel could not stop him if he chose to go.

The door slid open, letting a beam of light trickle into the room. Jag stepped into the light then the door shut behind him. He strode down the barracks hallway, his mind haunted by the image of Jaina's suffering, haunted by his own failure to save her.

One way or another, he was about to embark on a new adventure of his own. Things would be different from now on; he felt a renewed sense of excitement, a hint he was on the right path. The door before him opened, letting in a frigid blast of air mixed with snow. Jag took a deep breath and pushed his way into the buffeting winds.

The swirling wind whipped snow flurries all around him, sometimes blinding him in a sheet of white. Jag stopped in his tracks and stood quietly. The wind howled all around the surrounding buildings, singing a mournful song. He listened to it carefully, and he could almost make out the tragic voice from his dream calling in the storm's serenade.

"Please save me."

He shook his head before readjusting the duffle bag over his shoulder. Lowering his head, Jag forged ahead into his future. I am coming for you, Jaina.