Even at this late hour the bright lights of Coruscanti traffic were enough to illuminate the room where she sat, pensive.

She glanced quickly at the offending chair, then back out the viewport as she sucked in a deep breath. Slowly, she let it out, envisioning her anxiety being carried out on the soft gust of air. Anxiety was unnecessary. She had made this decision a month ago-made it on gut instinct rather than logic or hours of mediation, it was true, but it had been made nevertheless. And she preferred decisions made on instinct anyway. They were usually the right ones, unclouded by emotion and unfettered by over-analysis.

It was still somewhat of a shock, but she would become accustomed.

Everyone would.

Her mother had nodded her approval of the plan, a look of understanding in her eyes. Her father had given in rather quickly, given the circumstances.

The memory of Han's reaction put a quirk to her lips as she looked over to an inactivated Threepio. Han had played nice in front of Jaina, telling her that Imperials were sticklers for protocol and that she would be lost without the droid, but she still suspected that Threepio was more a punishment to Jag than a gift to her.

The small smirk quickly disappeared though, when she turned her eyes again to the chair next to the protocol droid.

Her gaze had been drawn to that chair all night. On it she had laid her immaculate new uniform. The scarlet didn't show in the colored traffic lights, but the crisp lines were still easy to pick out. As was the insignia on the left breast.

Turning her gaze back to the viewport, she took another deep breath and felt it settle in her belly before letting it back out. She had no regrets about her decision to leave the Jedi-leave her uncle-and join Jag on Bastion. She needed it.

Those who were not close to her would not have noticed, but Leia and Han had seen it nearly immediately. As had Luke, when he returned. She was drifting, not quite aimless but with no real direction since she had killed Jacen.

She always called him Jacen, regardless of how everyone wanted her to call him Caedus. She hadn't cut down Caedus, she resolved that in her mind long ago. She cut down Jacen, because that was who he was for the split second that allowed her to end his life. And that was who she could now feel glowing brightly in the little piece of her mind that was their twin bond.

Joining Jag in Bastion wasn't running from regret, though she knew that was how it would be interpreted. Regrets had been all but absolved the moment she felt that bond again, and understood that wherever Jacen was, he understood and forgave her. But she had come to the realization that she no longer belonged here. A change was imminent, and she intended to make it a big one.

That being said, Jag's offer was nearly too good to refuse.

She smirked again as she realized he had probably done that on purpose. Redesigning, heading, and training of the recommissioned royal guard, as well as command of all squadrons assigned to the Head of State's flagship-if the position had come with any other insignia on the uniform she would have said yes in a heartbeat. Even if she did doubt that Jag would actually defer to her judgement on the latter.

The only problem, really, was that the Imperial crest would be a part of her new identity. Each time she followed Jag into a negotiation, each time she came home to visit her father, hell each time she looked in the kriffing mirror, it would be there. Stark against the red backdrop of her robes.

It wasn't the same Empire. Not with Jag in charge. She knew that.

But it still went against the grain.

She could still remember that she used to play Chase Away the Imperials with Jacen and Anakin. They had devised several games to decide who would be the Imperial, and she had always fought tooth and nail to be sure that she wasn't it. She wondered at the hell they would give her now...

Another deep breath pushed out both the nostalgia and the sorrow. They might give her a ribbing, but they would be happy for her. She was sure of it. Especially as she had strong suspicions that a certain engagement band would make a reappearance soon after her arrival.

She took another deep breath.

This was a good thing.

She needed this.

She wanted this. Truth be told, she relished the thought of the stability that this would provide.

Yes, the right choice had been made.

Another deep breath allowed her to turn her eyes back to her uniform as she relaxed her formal meditation pose and laid her head against the plush chair behind her. Light was finally beginning to seep through the transparisteel and hinting at the vibrant red of the garment. For a moment she considered wearing it through the hangar bay, just to see how many people she could spook.

She smiled as the light touched Threepio's photoreceptors and he reactivated, beginning his babbling almost immediately. Yes, her father had definitely meant the droid to be a punishment to Jag, even if it was only a few days before they came to Bastion to reclaim him.

Getting up to carefully pack away the uniform, She wondered if Jag would get bored with seeing her in red...