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This fic was originally posted on theforce.net, where I go by the screenname of SaberBlade. If you recognize this, don't worry, it isn't plagiarized; I'm simply reposting it here also.
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General Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas and the characters belong to their respective authors. Anything you don't recognize is mine; please respect my muse. I don't intend any infringement with this fic; it was created because I have an abiding love for Star Wars and a wish to share my interpretation of it with the world.
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Details:
Name: After the War
Time Frame: AU Post-NJO
Pairing: Kyp Durron and Jaina Solo
Rating: PG to PG-13
Story Status: Completed
Warnings: Character Death.
Notes: Obviously AU.
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As always, reviews are appreciated.
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It had finally happened.
She had known that it would happen. She was the daughter of a Corellian, after all; she understood odds.
Jaina Solo sat motionless on the building's roof, watching the stars come out overhead, ignoring the cold wind howling eerily out of the darkness. Lights twinkled across the city beneath her; above her, the stars were faint silver dots, the space between them filled with darting ships and bright blinking atmospheric craft.
This was the one thing that had scared her during the war.
Being alone.
The wind whipped a loose strand of hair onto her face. Jaina waited, impassive, and in a few minutes the wind tore it from her face and the strand rejoined the tangled windblown tresses behind her head.
Not that she was, precisely, alone. Her parents were alive, her brother was alive, her aunt and uncle and cousin were alive. Most of her friends and pilots were alive.
Most.
Not all.
She had no right to feel as though she was alone. Not when she had gone through the war relatively unscathed; not when only two of her loved ones had died. But she felt alone and empty, as though there was no purpose left, no reason for her to continue. The war had been finished and victory had been achieved- and to Jaina, things had collapsed.
She had become an adult during the war. She had lost her brother before she had turned twenty; she could barely remember a time when she hadn't slept restlessly, waiting for a scramble to be called. She had turned into a fighter, a pilot, a Goddess- she wasn't a civilian anymore. She wasn't an innocent. She wasn't young. She had lost all of that- and more- to the Vong.
And once the war had ended, everyone expected her to suddenly become what she had been before. Carefree, young, innocent, unused to the horrors of war and the constant presence of death.
Jaina didn't think she could do that. The war had stripped too much from her.
–
When the war was over.
It had become a catchphrase of sorts. Almost a Third Question. Right after "How can I hurt the Vong today?" had come "How can I help my side today?", but after those two questions came the inevitable, "What are you going to do when the war is over?"
Because the war was almost over. The end was in sight. Those that had survived this long looked for the end eagerly. They had a chance of living through the war. They had a chance at a normal life, at peace. The end was coming, and the end even had a good chance of being a victory.
Just one more battle. One more assault. It would be like the Battle of Endor, a turning point for the galaxy.
Many would die. They all knew this. But some would live. And those that had survived this long- those that still lived, dozens and hundreds of fights and encounters after the Vong had first appeared- all hoped to survive one more fight, just one more battle. Because after this one battle would come peace. They had survived so much- they would never die in the last fight. Just one more dogfight, just one more firefight, just one more, and things would be normal.
When the war was over.
–
Jaina shivered and wrapped her arms around her knees. The war was over, and nothing was normal.
Nothing she had planned on doing would happen.
She was alone.
And it terrified her.
Everyone always told her that she was strong. She'd been strong throughout the war, but then she'd had a reason to be strong. She had been strong to fight. She'd been strong to win.
Now she had won, and there was nothing left to fight.
Nothing left to be strong for.
So she was left alone, sitting on the rooftop, staring blindly at the stars and trying to keep herself from crying.
She had cried already. Dozens of times before. This wasn't how it was supposed to turn out. She wasn't supposed to be alone.
It was like what she had always feared. That someday she would wake up and find that she had survived the war and no one else had.
But others had survived the war. That nightmare had been averted, but a new one had taken its place. And she was still alone.
–
"I love you," he murmured into her hair. "You can't possibly know how much I love you."
She smiled sleepily into his chest. "I know." She was draped across him, his body warm and strong beneath hers. She trailed her hand down his chest lazily. "Kyp?"
"Yes, Goddess?"
"When the war is over . . ." She hesitated. "Can we have a family?"
He shifted beneath her, and sat up, rearranging her so that she was cradled in his lap. His eyes were dark; he lifted her chin and studied her face for a long minute. She was silent, waiting nervously. Then he seemed to find whatever he had been searching for in her face, and he pulled her closer and gently brushed his lips against hers.
"This better be after you marry me, or your father will kill me," he said.
She put her arms around his waist and kissed his jaw. "After we're married," she conceded. "When the war is over."
His eyes fluttered shut even as a smile formed on his lips. "I always wanted a family," he told her softly, a hint of wonder in his voice. "I never thought I'd get one."
She nestled into his arms, welcoming their weight and solid presence around her. It was like being surrounded by a warmth that nothing could penetrate; it was the one place where she felt completely safe, utterly protected. "You always had one," she said, fitting her head against his neck. "Me. We'll just add onto it a bit."
She felt his chuckle as much as she heard it. "As long as I have you, Goddess."
–
She blinked back tears. No one understood, not really. Jag had known; he came the closest to understanding. But the others . . .
They had only officially told Jag, but a few friends had guessed. Others had stumbled upon it, somehow. Jag . . . Jag had always known, Jaina supposed. That was probably why he had thrown the two of them together so often.
The memory of Jagged Fel- serious, grim, loyal, responsible Jag- playing matchmaker to a Jedi Master and a Goddess was still a memory that made her smile. Not much did, anymore. But Jag had known; Jag had always known. Without him, there wouldn't have even been that brief period of happiness.
They had even joked about naming their first child after him. He had declined the offer, of course, but they would still periodically threaten him with it. It had always made Jag blush, when they had said it would be fitting to name the child after the man who had brought the parents together.
But Jag had been the only one they had officially told. Jaina was sure that some people had guessed at their real relationship during the war, but Jag was the only one who knew that they had planned on marrying, on having children.
Jaina wondered if more people were starting to understand what had gone on between them, now that he was gone and she was a shadow of her former self.
Her mother had guessed. Jaina saw the knowledge- the confusion over her choice, the pity for her loss- in Leia's eyes whenever her mother looked at her. Her father . . . her father knew, but he was trying not to think about it. It meant that he would have to view an old friend in a new light, that he would have to think of his little girl as a woman. Han wasn't quite ready to deal with that. Not this soon after the war.
Mara and Luke had guessed during the war. Or one of them had, and told the other. Regardless, they had known how she would feel. They had helped keep her sane those first horrible days of emptiness.
Jacen, for all he was her twin, didn't understood it at all. Not surprising. He had married just months after the war was over; his wife would have their first child- a boy- in four more months. No, he didn't understand how Jaina felt, or why.
He hadn't lost the one he had loved.
–
"Stay safe," he ordered her, catching her as she sprinted to her X-wing. "Don't do anything stupid and get yourself killed."
She flung her arms around him and squeezed her eyes shut. "Same to you. Oh, Kyp, I love you. Come back."
He crushed her against him, lack of time fueling his desperation. "I love you. Stay safe."
She tried desperately not to cry, not to start worrying. He bent down and captured her lips with his, not caring who was watching. After this last scramble, they could tell the world. He ravished her mouth, lips hard and demanding, possessive and sure. She fisted her hands in the loose material of his flightsuit, wishing she wouldn't have to ever leave.
But she did. His lips softened, soothed, until they were a mere brush against hers. "I love you," he whispered. "No matter what happens, I love you."
"I love you," she said back, tears bright in her eyes. "Forever. Stay safe."
Then she had to let go of him and step back, had to let him rush off to his own fighter, the fierce memory of his lips on hers all that remained of him.
–
She had felt him die. The disadvantage of being a Jedi and being linked together. She had known it would happen a second before it did; had a shiver of premonition too late to do anything about it. She had known he was surrounded before he had; she had frantically screamed his name in warning. But it hadn't helped. He was outnumbered and all his skill couldn't save him. His fighter became just one more small explosion littering a huge expanse of space; he was just one more casualty in a battle that claimed over half the pilots that entered it.
The last thing he had thought had been her name.
It should have comforted her.
It made her want to cry instead.
She had survived. The war was over.
And there was nothing left for her. No dreams to fulfill, no hopes left. No Jedi ceremony to unite them. No quiet nights together. No mornings waking up to his eyes. No security in his arms. No life together. No babies to hold. No children to play with. No little girls with their father's eyes; no little boys with their mother's smile. No sitting and watching the family they had created. No family.
No future.
Not without a rogue Jedi Master who had been too sarcastic for his own good, who had loved her with everything he had.
Jaina forced herself to stand and stretch. She should go back inside. Her parents would worry.
It hurt. It hurt more than she thought it could. It had been months since he died, months since he had kissed her and told her he loved her. Half a year. And still it hurt.
There was nothing left for her. No future, no hopes, no dreams. Just an endlessly long cycle of days, weeks, months, years . . . without him. And it hurt so much.
Tears bright in her eyes, Jaina turned away from the roof's edge to go back inside, back to a family who didn't quite understand her pain.
He stood there, smiling faintly at her, arms loose at his side, lightsaber at his hip, his ever-present black cape– the same cape that she now kept in her closet– hanging from his shoulders.
Jaina's heart jumped and the tears spilled over onto her cheeks.
She could see through him to the door he stood before. She knew- knew- that she couldn't touch him. But she reached one trembling hand out up to his cheek.
She felt nothing, but his hand reached up and covered hers. Still nothing, but the thought was there, the emotion. She couldn't take her eyes from his face.
He hadn't ever appeared to her before- not in the first few days when she had wept alone in her room; not in the later months when she had finally faced that he was gone and she was alone.
In a voice hoarse with tears, she spoke. "I miss you," she said.
"I know," he said. His voice was familiar, warm and deep, and Jaina didn't even both to try and stop her tears.
"I didn't think I could live," she admitted, keeping her eyes on his. "There wasn't a point to it, not with you gone."
"But you're still here." His eyes were intent on hers, seeming to see- as they always had- into her essence.
"It's hard." She pulled her hand away from his cheek, through his own hand, and brushed away her tears. His hand dropped back to his side. "It's so tempting to cut myself off, to just sit and do nothing. Or to just take one extra step- walk half a meter more past the edge- and end the pain."
Something akin to alarm flared deep within his eyes. "But you won't."
"No." She wanted to step forward and wrap her arms around him, to feel him surround her with his presence and warmth. But even though he stood before her, faintly glowing, sheened in blue light, she could barely feel his presence through the Force. In life, he had been a flare, burning bright and intense; now he was a simple ember, steady and easily overlooked. So she wrapped her own arms tight around herself instead. "I've seen enough death in the war. Life is too precious to throw away."
His posture relaxed slightly in relief. He reached out as if to brush away her tears, but Jaina felt nothing, not even a ghostly breath of wind against her cheek. "I can wait, Jaina," he said. "You've got your whole life to live."
And it loomed like eternity ahead of her, without him in it. "I know. But it's so hard."
"I love you. I'll always love you." His words carried the same conviction and strength that they had when he was alive. "I'll wait for you." Then he smiled. "And you're not completely alone, Goddess. I won't leave you."
She laughed, but it was still watery. "I love you, Kyp. Stay with me."
He reached out to touch her even as he faded away. But all around her, his presence still lingered- faint, distant, nothing like it had been when he had been alive. But she could reach out and sense him again for the first time since his death. She could feel him all around her: his love, his support, his strength.
He would wait.
And so would she.
–
He opened his arms and she was in them in a heartbeat. His mouth was greedy for hers; she threaded her fingers through his silvering hair and gave him all he asked of her. Only after long moments had passed did he finally raise his head.
"What happened?" she asked.
"You died," he told her, hands framing her face, thumbs brushing across her now-youthful face.
She gave a quick growl of exasperation. "I figured that much," she told him. "What I meant was how did I die?"
He chuckled. "You were ninety-three, Jaina. You just died."
"Then why am I young again?"
"Would you rather be old?"
She laughed and pulled him down and kissed him again. "Oh, I missed you, Kyp."
He slid his hands back into her hair. "I waited for you," he said softly. "I love you."
Her grip on his shirt tightened. "I love you too."
"Are you ready for the next step?"
"Will you be there with me?"
He laughed. "Goddess, you're not likely to ever get rid of me."
"Then I'm ready."
He reluctantly released her, but he reached for her hand and captured it in his own larger one. "There are a few people who want to see you again besides me," he whispered close to her ear.
Realization dawned on her. "Mom? Dad?"
He grinned. "Among others. Come with me."
And she did.
Her waiting was over.
She wasn't alone anymore.
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Reviews make my day! Tell me what you think I did well or horribly. I appreciate constructive criticism and honest appraisals…
Thanks!
-Keth
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