Chapter 9: Weakening

From the moment of his first consciousness, Chak Fel had lived a sheltered and easy life. No one had come to him to confide secrets, or compel upon him to complete some task, or even burdened his mind with anything remotely upsetting or disturbing. He was still fragile, they said. But now, running down the medical corridor looking for some sign of his sister-in-law or niece, he had to wonder if there was not something they could have done to prepare him for an eventuality such as this.

A scant ten minutes before Syal had commed him, weeping her eyes out, and told him of a distressing call from Hanna. She hadn't answered any of her questions, only cried, and then hung up. Out of her mind with worry, she had set out for Csaplar at once, and commed him—he had been grocery shopping, one of the few chores he had been given on Csilla—to go to the medical center and see if anyone knew anything.

What had happened? Had Jaina been discovered? She certainly had now, but was that the reason for his niece's distress? He didn't know. All he knew was that he needed to be there, even if there was nothing he could do.

A familiar voice reached his ears, one that was decidedly under duress. Chak turned in that direction, and a few seconds later entered a small waiting room where a Chiss medical professional was attempting to restrain the four-year-old human girl with minimal success. She was Jaina Solo's daughter, after all.

"Mooooohhhmmmmyyyy!!" Hanna squealed in a long and high-pitched timbre. "Let me go! I have to help Mommy!!" She caught sight of Chak, and her eyes grew large and rose a shade of green. "Uncle Chak! Uncle Chak, help me!"

In two strides he was there, taking her roughly from the Chiss's tiring arms. "What are you doing with her? Where's her mother?"

The blue man's red pupils grew round. "Who are you? Who are these humans?"

Overcome with a biting anger and concern, Chak grabbed him roughly round the collar. "Listen to me you little Son of a Hutt, this is my niece. I demand to know where you found her, under what conditions, and where the hell is her mother?"

Blue lids narrowed into glowing slits. He gestured to the left, into a small room. Chak, still carrying Hanna under one arm, hurried to the transparisteel panel that allowed him to see inside. Jaina lay in state on a sterilized operation table, a flood of medics and healers running around with instruments and scanners.

"Chak!" a new voice said.

He turned to look, only to see Syal running to his side. She skidded to a halt beside him, almost pressing her nose to the glass. "Oh no. What happened?" She looked to Hanna, immediately taking her from Chak and clutching her to her chest for dear life. She muttered something thankful sounding softly under her breath. Even though Jaina had only been on Csilla three weeks, Syal had become extremely attached to her granddaughter. Even if Jaina was in danger, having Hanna safe must mean the world to her.

Chak looked around, eyes roving over the different people. One doctor that had been inside stepped out of the operating room, and Chak was on him like a leech. "What's wrong with her? What's going on?"

He looked up, suspicious. "You know her?"

He made and anxious gesture. The man glanced back at the room where Jaina lay. "It seems her body is attempting to miscarry the fetus."

A lump formed in his throat, and it took all his strength to keep from vomiting it up. He wasn't very knowledgeable of things like that, but 'miscarry' was one word he knew he didn't want to hear. He ran a hand over a sweaty brow, wanting to crawl in a hole somewhere and hide from the awful truth of the world. Behind him, Syal made a choking sound, tears evident in the noise. "Why?" she demanded, coming to stand beside Chak.

The healer shrugged, noncommittal. "She seems to have no other apparent physical ailments. Has she been under and inordinate amount of stress lately?"

Chak and Syal exchanged a glance. 'Inordinate' was an understatement. Jaina had been killing herself ever since she had arrived. The healer took their expressions as confirmation. "Since the fetus is an alien presence in her body, it is likely that her body recognizes it as the source of strain, and so is trying to expel it to save itself."

Syal hugged Hanna a little tighter. "What can be done?"

He looked back to where Jaina lay. She was pale, dark brown hair and eyebrows standing out in contrast to her wan skin tone. Sweat glistened on her skin, a grimace of pain contorting her face even in her unconscious state. "Take the baby and hope for the best."

Chak's eyes widened. "She's barely seven months!"

He shrugged again. "If the birth completes on its own, the mother's life will be in less danger, but the child will die. If we take the baby, it will most likely live but there is a possibility of mental impairment, and there is a risk to the mother as well." His red eyes flicked to Syal. "Since she is in your care, I will need to have your approval on what action to take."

Syal turned a sickly shade of gray, aging ten years before his eyes. "I can't," she whispered. With the last of her energy she handed Hanna back over to Chak. "I just...I can't make a decision like this. Chak," she grabbed his arm in a pleading manner. "Chak, what would Jag want? What would Jaina want?"

He closed his eyes, knowing that if he was wrong anywhere from one to four lives hinged on his decision. But he had spent the last two years in constant companionship with Jaina Solo-Fel. He had been with her throughout the first seven months of her pregnancy. He knew what she would want. "Do everything in your power to save the baby," he said at last. "Safely. All precautions. Jaina wouldn't care what damage it did to her own body. Just save the baby."

With those words, he might have condemned his brother to be a widower and single father.

But it was what Jaina would want, and that he knew for certain.

Wyn and Soontir had arrived shortly after, and Cem would have if not for the extreme import on keeping his presence a secret. But Hanna seemed unable to bear up under the strain, so Wyn had taken her back to the mansion while they waited. Syal had refused to leave her vigil, so Soontir had left temporarily to find them something to eat. Chak seemed unable to do anything but sit with his head in his hands. If something happened to either of them he didn't know how he would ever face his brother again.

A soft, small hand ran itself over his back, muscles tense and taut. "Chak," his mother whispered softly.

He looked over at her, seeing the same despair in her red-rimmed eyes as in his own. "What?" he croaked, voice hoarse from unshed tears.

"I know," she stopped, a hand covering her mouth as she composed herself, "I know that this isn't the time. But...I noticed something earlier. Did Jag teach you Cheuhn?"

He frowned deeply. Where was this coming from? It seemed hardly the time or place to be asking something so trivial. Jaina and her baby's life hung in the balance. "No. Why?"

Hope and tears muddled her blue eyes, and she took his hand tightly in her owns. "Chak, you were talking to that healer in Cheuhn."

He snorted a laugh, scoffing at the notion. "No I didn't."

She nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes you did. Watch." Her mouth emitted a string of perfectly fluent Chiss phrases. You see, you do understand what I am saying. And I'm not speaking Basic! his mind translated instantly. Chak blinked, trying to register the great significance of her words.

Was he...was he starting to remember things?

"Kriff," he whispered. "What does this mean?"

Her grip on his hand grew to bone-crushing force. "It means that my son is coming back," she said, voice intense and strained with emotion.

Chak shook his head, confused. "We can talk about this later," then he disengaged his hand from hers.

He wasn't ready for this. He just wasn't.

The door to the operating room slid open abruptly, and the medic from earlier stepped through, looking weary and solemn. Syal stood, drawing him up beside her and clutching his bicep for strength. "Well," the man began, and Chak observed with a strange gleeful sight that he could indeed understand every word he said, "The surgery is complete."

"And?" Chak demanded anxiously.

He sighed. "Both are alive, but we haven't been able to stabilize the mother as of yet."

Syal buried her face in his shoulder, weeping openly with a mixture of grief and relief. They were alive. That was half the battle. Chak wrapped one arm around her but stood tall, waiting to hear the rest. "What else?"

"There is no definite answer at this time, but we believe the child is in good health, with no side effects. He will, however, have to remain under the oxygen tent for a few days."

"What about Jaina?" Chak demanded. "Will she be okay?"

"She's lost a lot of blood, and at the moment we don't have any that match her human blood type. She's on her own. All we can do is wait and see."

I've tried to hide it, tried to ignore it, but it's all been in vain. I don't want to feel this way, but I do. I love you. Gods, I love you.

Jag blinked at his ceiling, willing her cursed voice out of his head. He wished she had never said anything, had never told him about her stupid feelings. Why, why the hell would anyone want to go and fall in love with him? One, he was married. Two, it wasn't as if he was the friendliest or most amiable person in the galaxy. And three, he hadn't even had a normal conversation with anyone in about a year, certainly not with Ismene.

What was wrong with this woman? Was she deranged, or just pitifully desperate? No, that couldn't be it. She was beautiful, what guy in their right mind wouldn't want her? She had a good job, a sweet disposition, a good sense of humor. She couldn't be desperate for companionship.

Then why fall in love with him, of all people? Maybe, maybe it was just some sort of perceived image of him she was in love with.

And maybe it wasn't.

What if, just what if, despite all his faults and bad temperament, she saw who he was, and had fallen in love with him? Was that even possible? Could she have done what Jaina, his wife of five years, hadn't done?

Jag just didn't know what to think about that. In all the time he had felt so separated from Jaina, he had never once considered that maybe the problem wasn't that they weren't being open, being themselves...but that maybe they were being themselves, and they just didn't want each other anymore.

It was the most depressing thought he had ever had.

Perhaps there really wasn't any hope. People, relationships, they changed. Maybe he and Jaina had changed too much. As young, impulsive kids they had been in love, but now they were all grown up. After maturing, was it possible that it had all been a brief flight of fancy, two kids dealing with a bad situation the best way they knew how? Wasn't it normal, that after being driven together like that, they may have developed fleeting feelings for each other that dissipated after time?

Could it be that in the end they were meant to go their separate ways?

The thought stopped him cold, and Jag banged his head roughly on the metal cot as punishment, with such force that he temporarily saw nothing but white. What the hell was wrong with him? Had he just actually been considering having an affair? No, no no no no no.

He had to get out of here. It was going to drive him crazy, or to something even more foolish.

Jag closed his eyes, calling to memory his wife's face. She was so beautiful. What could he possibly want besides her? He remembered the first night he had ever made love to her. It had been too good to be true. Somehow he knew, he knew, that if he could just kiss her, feel her skin under his aching fingers, smell the intoxicating aroma inherent to her...the world would right itself again. They could start over, find themselves in each other. That's what he wanted, above all other things.

The thought returned some measure of sanity to him. He knew what had to be done. He had to get out, find his wife, and make things right between them. No distractions, no other options. It was do or die, and Jag had a lot of living left to do.

Syal Antilles Fel wiped her eyes and stepped into the nursery, falling into one of her composed and serene roles. It was her shield and her strength, the ability to become someone else when faced with a debilitating situation. Wynssa Starflare only went so far, though, before collapsing and leaving Syal alone. Hopefully this time she could remain strong until she was by herself, and no doubt then she would crumble in on herself. But this needed to be done. The child needed to know he was loved.

Her newest grandchild had been placed in an oxygen rich bed, fluids pumped intravenously through his little arms and an oxygen tent draped over the cradle. Syal gripped the railings on the side of the crib, ignoring the stares from other healers in the nursery. This baby needed someone.

The first thing that struck her about his was how small he was. Only a little longer than the length of her hand and far too thin, Syal wondered at the fact that he lived at all. She supposed for his premature birth he was where he should be, but her mind rebelled against it. All six of her children had been double his size. The tiny fingers were white and dispirited, limbs almost flimsy looking. Tufts of light brown hair stuck out from his head, and as she watched him small green eyes squinted open, his mouth puckering unhappily. Of course you're unhappy, Syal thought sadly. You don't know where your Mommy is.

"Ma'am?" A feminine voiced asked off to her right.

Syal turned away reluctantly to face the speaker. It was a nurse, young by even Chiss standards and very pretty. "Have you chosen a name yet?"

Syal shook her head. "That's not my decision. We'll wait until the mother is well enough to name him."

The woman looked doubtful. "Maybe a surname, then?"

"Fel," Syal said, touching the curtain separating her from the baby wistfully.

The nurse scribbled something on her datapad. "He's due for a feeding. Would you like to hold him?"

The Wynssa Starflare guise cracked and fell in pieces around her. "Can I?" Her voice sounded weak and childlike to her own ears. The nurse nodded, smiling uncharacteristically. She led Syal to an old-fashioned chair, one that rocked back and forth on its legs. She took a seat, and the nurse brought her grandson out of the oxygen tent. She bundled his up securely in layers of thermal blankets, but even then he looked small.

As he was placed in her arms tears fell unhindered down her face, staining her shirt and his blanket. "Oh, child," she whispered, holding him close. "Will you ever know peace?" He looked at her with his bright green eyes, and she bit her lower lip against a sob. If Jaina...if Jaina died, and if Jag was convicted of his crimes, who would take care of him and his sister? Jaina had family on Coruscant, but in that moment she was utterly unwilling to release him to them. "I'm going to take care of you," she whispered in Basic so the nurse would not understand. "And you will be loved.