A/N: Thank you, Trickfortreat, for staying with this story all that time. I'm glad you're enjoying it! Your encouragement and enthusiasm made this story possible. Thanks again to the reviewers, and everyone who's been reading so far. On to the last two chapters.
A second thank you to the guest reviewer from the last chapter. I agree with your opinion on Jaina's character in LOTF and FOTJ. I love her a lot, but there was a lot missing, as well. There were a few things in FOTJ I did like, however, so I tried to blend the image of Jaina that was created in the EU and the image of the Jaina she could be, in my opinion, and to address all the issues I felt had somehow gotten lost over the overall story. This is the result. I am glad if it works for you. I'm also glad that you think the last chapter was well-done, because it was tricky for me...
eclipse
The wind had grown cold. Desert nights were cruel.
Jag placed his helmet next to Valia's bed roll carefully, giving the desert-runner a silent once-over and apparently coming to the conclusion that she would be fine if she'd only had some sleep. "I guess it's no good making a fire."
Jaina agreed: they were far too exposed, sitting on a plateau at the edge of the valley. "We'll have to make do."
"At least we cannot be attacked from behind and from the cliffside."
That, she supposed, was a plus. Sighing, she made her way back over to where Jag had piled their belongings into a small heap and was now getting out a water skin. "Would you like some tea?"
"I thought I'd said we couldn't start a fire-"
"Don't worry," Jaina interrupted him. "I have a different method."
Her "different method" included a few round, more-or-less clean stones, a filled water skin – they really didn't have much water left – and a Force technique her uncle had taught her. Or, rather, Corran Horn had taught her uncle. Luke had expanded it a bit and when Jaina had trained to bring down her brother, he had taught her everything he knew. It was one of the less interesting techniques, she supposed, or one of the more useless ones. And really, what was she supposed to do: give her enemy second-degree burns? Still, here in the desert where the ground was sun-heated and warm, it actually made sense. Jaina concentrated, searching for the warmth underneath the dust layer, and focused on drawing it out and into the stones. When they had heated up sufficiently, she dropped them into the water sack and added some of the dried herbs Valia had brought along. The night was going to be cold and she needed to stay awake.
Jag watched, his dark eyes unreadable. "That's pretty useful."
"Burned my hands more than once learning it."
He made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a snicker. "Always the hard way, huh."
For some time, they sat in almost companionable silence and sipped their hot tea. Jaina felt herself relax in a way she hadn't been able to for the past weeks. It was strange: they hadn't even completed their mission, and yet she felt like everything would be alright.
"Ahem." Jag cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I really don't want to pry, but…"
She turned her head to look at him. The three moons illuminated his features and softened his square jaw and strong forehead, he looked younger, somehow. Unreal. His eyes wandered along the edge of the cliff, over the valley. He knew she was looking at him but refused to answer her gaze, so Jaina took it as an invitation to look at him properly. She hadn't allowed herself to look at him for a long time, and now her heart gave a lurch. She wanted to stretch out and touch him: feel the softness of his hair, the stubble on his unshaven chin. Trace the lines around his eyes- Jerking away abruptly, she grabbed her small cup more tightly between her hands.
"A Dark Side nexus." If she focused on the pure facts and their surroundings, it might just go away. "I guess it was the reason why Alema Rar was drawn here."
It might have been the reason for many other things, she thought. Why she had been so unwilling to continue on since they had started their journey across the Dune Sea, and why she had felt better every time they had turned away from their destination. The voice she had heard that had been telling her to give up. Jacen's voice – No. Jacen was a part of her. She would forever hear his voice, see his face. No amount of Dark Side or Light Side Force could change that fact.
Jag's forehead crinkled in thought. "But why was it activated only now?"
Jaina shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it always was but we could never feel it."
One explanation was as good as the other, especially since she felt like none would be right. Force. How did Uncle Luke do it? She didn't think she'd ever have the patience to deal with this mystical-ambiguous-answer, frustrating stuff. How did Jacen do it? Only Jacen, obviously, hadn't managed quite so well, either. Yes, she definitely didn't want to think about it further. Jag seemed to sense it, thankfully.
"When we're finished here," he said, leaning back against the canyon wall and not looking at her, "I'm going on a holiday. I'd really like to see something else than jungles and deserts."
"Where do you want to go?" When had been the last time she had been on vacation? She couldn't even remember.
Jag shrugged. "Naboo, I think," he said. "The Lake Country. Have you ever been there?"
"No. But I heard…" Jaina hesitated. "It's supposed to be beautiful." For some reason, her heart ached.
"Yes." Jag had turned away from her again and she could only see his profile. "I heard the mountains and the lakes are beautiful in summer. It's probably the complete opposite of Csilla."
Cold, frigid weather and glacier- and cave-riddled mountains: Csilla, the capital of the Chiss Ascendancy, was not known for its favorable climatic conditions. How much, Jaina wondered, did he miss his home planet? To Jaina, Yavin Four had always been more a home than Coruscant. But then, home had been where her family had been. What was it that Jag felt when he thought of his home?
Maybe you want to come?
And now, Jaina Solo, you're just imagining voices in your head. "I'm going back to Ossus." Her parents would be there, and Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara. Ben and Tahiri, maybe even Tenel Ka and Allana. Her family. God, how she missed them. "I guess I'll need holidays from the entire lot after a while, but it's worth it."
"Hm." He gave a non-committal hum, like he wanted to say something more but was thinking of the best way to tell it. Or whether to tell it at all. "What about Jacen?"
She wasn't sure what shocked her more: the fact that he was asking the question, or the implications of it. She hadn't mentioned her twin once for the past weeks: how could he have known?
"What about him?" Her voice shook, and she hated it.
"Nothing." Jag still wouldn't meet her eyes. "I thought maybe you'd want to visit him, sometimes."
She swallowed past the painful lump in her throat, searching for words. Searching for something she could answer, something that would hurt neither her nor him. He seemed to sense it, because he retreated kindly.
"Never mind. It's none of my business."
There was no way to say what she felt: relief or disappointment. She gulped down the still-hot liquid, burning her tongue in the process, but the rawness in her throat refused to disappear.
"Jaina."
Startled, she almost dropped her tea cup. When had he last called her that? She couldn't remember; her mind was completely blank. Somehow the sound of her name from his lips – quiet, unfamiliar and yet familiar, hesitant and full of memories – gave her a sense of peace deeper than anything had been able to in the past weeks and months. Scrambling after the fraying ends of her composure, she pretended being busy setting down the cup and adding more tea to it. Jag's eyes burned into her. Even without looking up she could feel his gaze on her.
"Yes?"
He sighed. "I know I already asked this, but still… Are you alright?"
She was Jaina Solo, Jedi Knight, Sword of the Jedi. She had fought in many wars, had lost her baby brother and her innocence. She had seen beings die, had killed with her own hands, had fought her fallen brother and defeated him. She had crossed the Dune Sea and the Jundland Wastes and had survived Tusken Raiders, krayt dragons and an ancient Sith nexus. She was sitting there with a man she had once loved, who had left her and whom she had left, in return, and she couldn't look at him for fear she might reach out and touch him. She was sweaty, itchy, sandy, tired and her mission wasn't yet complete. And still…
She felt fine.
Not over-the-top-the-world-is-sithin'-beautiful-fine. Instead, it was a quiet, accepting sense of peace she had not felt before; not as long as she could remember.
"No," Jaina said, quietly, and lifted her face to look at Jag deliberately. "But I will be."
Jag held her gaze until she looked away, glad he couldn't see her blush in the darkness. Idiot, she berated herself, but there was nothing she could do to make it stop.
"Okay."
"Oh!" Jaina gasped suddenly. Jag stiffened, then followed her gaze upward. He didn't say anything, but when she glanced at him from the corner of her eyes silent wonder was written in his features. He noticed her looking at him, of course, and turned to answer her gaze. Jaina quickly shifted back again, the irregular sound of her heart loud in her ears. High up above them, Ghomrassen and Chernini blazed up one last time and slipped behind Guermessa, and the darkness around them became a velvet touch on their skin.
Together, they watched as Tatooine's three moons kissed in the sky above of the Dune Sea, forming a blood-red corona.
Alema wasn't hard to find. In fact, she didn't even try to run away. It would have been anticlimactic, hadn't Jaina witnessed the strength of the Dark Side nexus and the danger of surrendering herself to the fear and darkness inside it herself.
If the loose collection of wooden poles, assorted stones and bleached bones peeking from the dusty sand here and there once had been a Tusken Raider camp it held no resemblance to one any longer. Sand had covered the remains like a shroud, erasing blood, screams and life easily and kindly. Jaina shivered when they got nearer: there still was an echo hanging above the ruins, a wordless scream of pain and loss. But it wasn't as powerful as it had been the night before. In fact, she wouldn't even have called it a nexus anymore: it was a home of the dead. The rouge Jedi knight was curled up into a ball just beside a heap of black, charred stones: a pyre, probably. Her skin was grey and bloodless, her eyes open wide but without any sign of life. Her lekku spread out around her. There was a smile on her face. A smile, a real one, no hate-filled grimace. A loving, gentle smile. Jaina didn't know what to make of it. She stretched out her hand and closed Alema Rar's eyes.
"Good riddance," Jag said, his eyes invisible behind his mask and his voice hard. "She didn't deserve any better." He was radiating stony satisfaction.
Jaina was inclined to agree, but somehow held back. She almost felt sorry for the woman who had lost everything and then had been broken, twisted and re-shaped into something of a dark, broken mirror image of her innocent self.
"Are you going to leave her like that?" Valia asked.
Jaina wasn't familiar with Ryloth's death rites, but it was a desert planet much like Tatooine, as well. "Fire."
"You're honoring her with a burial?" Jag sighed. "Well, we might as well start. It should be a pain finding wood." When the pyre was finished, he waited for Jaina to look at him. "I'm done here." Then, he turned and headed back towards the outskirts of the old village.
She could understand his sentiments. Glad he had at least helped her with the preparations, Jaina lit the fire and watched Alema Rar's body fade away slowly. The flames were hot, despite the comparatively small size of the pyre. She closed her eyes briefly, almost against her will.
There is no death, only the Force.
When she opened them again, she saw him. He stood on the other side of the fire: the flames and smoke distorted his image. He was tall and wore a simple tunic and trousers. Sand-colored hair fell into his eyes: they were of an icy, clear blue. His reckless grin was a punch to the gut: so familiar. Yet Jaina was sure she had never seen him before in all her life.
The man – the apparition? – lifted one hand in greeting and smiled. It was a thoughtful, small smile full of regret, of what, she couldn't say. Then, he faded away.
Tatooine whispered: I watch out for my children. Jaina turned on her heel and followed Jag to where Valia was already waiting. When they left the Valley of Spirits, she didn't look back.
An infestation of the worst scum the galaxy has to offer. Her father's words ran through Jaina's head like a broken record since she had set foot into Mos Eisley again. It was a lot, this coming from Han Solo: he'd been one of the most notorious smugglers of the galaxy, after all.
From the Valley of Spirits, they again had travelled through the Jundland Wastes and crossed the Dune Sea. Back in the small agglomeration of moisture farms named Orion City the speeder had still been tucked away in the side building of the abandoned farm where they had left it, dusty, but in one piece. Triumphant, Valia pulled out a small connector from her bag. Once she had replaced it the motor started up, coughing cheerfully. ("You never know whether silly offworlders might accidentally stumble over the stuff you leave.") Valia's friend Maron provided them with water and rations once more and they set off again. Jag, as it turned out, had left a speed bike with another farmer. Two days later they were back from where they had started almost three weeks ago.
The return trip had passed without major incidents. Maybe she had been too weary from her encounter with the dark nexus, or perhaps her mind had simply shut down in order to protect her from further, brain-twisting thought processes, but Jaina barely remembered any of it. There had been sand, of course, one last time, and endless dunes. Heat during day, Tatooine's two suns shining brightly, and icy cold during night. The three moons were slowly drifting apart again. As they camped night after night Jaina watched the starry skies, all too aware of Jag's quiet presence next to her. They hadn't spoken much anymore. Valia had seemed content to joke with either of them and had not prodded. Perhaps she had sensed the fragile peace they had developed and hadn't wanted to disturb it – and neither had the two of them. And Jaina had pushed aside every further thought of how it was and why that she could still sense him.
And then the narrow, squatting stone buildings of Mos Eisley rose from the desert sands. The market, the dusty streets permeated by scent, sound and peoples' movements, the endless voices of stall owners, natives and foreigners alike. For Jaina it was too crowded, too noisy and too lively.
She was exhausted to the bone and yet had never felt more awake.
They followed Valia down the street and into a little side alley. Children were playing in the small shadows of the tarps that had been hung up in order to block the worst midday sun glare. When Jaina, Jag and Valia passed by, they stopped to watched them intently. From the kitchen window, lovely scents permeated the air. When the kids saw Jag's helmet, their eyes grew as wide as saucers. They were showered with a barrage of foreign language neither one of them knew how to speak, least alone to understand. Valia shooed the kids off good-naturedly but they followed them through the streets, always keeping their distance. She stopped in front of a small house in front of which a small sign indicated at two free rooms for overnight stay.
"This is where I take my leave," she announced, turning around and placing both her hands in her hips. "What? Don't stare like that. It makes you look like you got no brains, and incidentally I know both of you have one."
Jag caught himself first. "That's good to know."
"I guess," Jaina added, dubiously. "Isn't this a bit abrupt?"
"What? You want me to stay with you, hold your hand and to deliver you back to the Jedi Academy? Thank you, but no thanks. I'm too old for the Clear your mind stuff." A stark contrast to her words, her eyes were smiling. She stepped forward and surprised Jaina by embracing her.
"Child of light," she said by means of good bye. "Take care. You will make the right decisions, and find the right path. Tatooine and I am glad we were able to meet you. You make her proud."
When she stepped back again, Jaina caught her eye. "Why couldn't we feel the nexus all those years ago?" She asked. "I mean: it was there. Uncle Luke – the Grand Master – knew about Korriban, and the nexus on Coruscant, and all those others. Why couldn't we feel it until we were actually physically close to it?"
The old desert runner shrugged, smiling. "Sometimes things are so close you forget they are there, you know?"
Jaina frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Now, now." Valia patted her cheek. "Don't get all defensive, Jedi Girl. This place was linked to your family since a long, long time ago. It has waited for you."
"But how…"
"Some things, Jaina Solo," Valia said, "cannot be explained rationally." She smiled, winked. Without wanting to, Jaina smiled back.
"Hunter." Valia didn't embrace Jag, but she lifted an arm and touched his shoulder. "Don't doubt yourself that much. You already chose."
"It was an honor to meet you," Jag said after a brief pause.
"May the Force be with the two of you." And with that benediction, and a last smile, Valyrianamia Stormchaser disappeared down the street and into the dusty, tangling alleys of what was Tatooine's most notorious city. Jaina caught herself staring after her. When she focused again Jag was looking at her, his dark eyes invisible behind his visor. But his gaze felt soft. Jaina shivered, but she did not turn away.
The next day, they left Tatooine.
Jag had landed on the desert planet with his own small ship and had, of course, offered Jaina to take her to where she had stowed her StealthX in a space station. There was no way she could have refused without sounding irrational and she found she had no wish to actually find an excuse. Being close to him had become comfortable, in a completely new, painfully familiar way. They boarded the ship sometime around midday. Jag checked the controls while Jaina went through the technical stuff on the preflight checklist. Together, they worked quickly and efficiently: when clearance came, they set off immediately.
As they lifted off, Jaina strapped herself in in the small mess room, not wanting – or, perhaps, fearing – to be in the confined quarters of Jag's cockpit with him. She was oscillating between wanting to be close to him and dreading it: it was quickly growing annoying. Through the transpari glass window she watched Mos Eisley grow smaller and smaller until it was swallowed by the yellow and brown desert surrounding it. Small moisture farms dotted the landscape until they, too, disappeared. Jaina closed her eyes against the glare of the suns. In front of her mind's eye she could still see the planet. A golden ball among two suns and three moons: lonely and alien, and, despite everything, beautiful.
Farewell, daughter, Tatooine's bodyless voice whispered in her mind. Until we meet again. The ghost of a smile – a warm touch, like a grandmother's kiss on the wind – and she was gone.
Her eyes still closed, Jaina leaned her forehead against the window. Jag's presence and calm, dampened through the distance between them but still clearly there, was a comforting warmth deep inside her. There was so much she had to think of, so many things to ponder. So many questions to ask, she supposed. How long had it been? Three weeks, more or less, and how was it that she felt so different after such a small amount of time? What exactly had happened in the Valley, and what consequences would it have? Had she really accepted her fate? And did that mean she had accepted her past and her past actions? Jaina had been looking for answers before this mission already, she was aware of that. She hadn't thought she'd also been looking for atonement.
"You want to take a shower?"
Jaina tore open her eyes at the voice that resounded from the other side of the corridor. Jag was leaning against the entrance door: they must have made the jump to hyperspace already, for he had obviously activated the autopilot. She hadn't heard him enter. Stang. She'd somehow, inexplicably, gotten used to feeling him, so she'd completely forgotten to watch out for him using her five other senses… Through the cloud of jumbled thoughts, his words penetrated only slowly.
"Come again?"
"Would you like to use the 'fresher?" Jag repeated, one brow disappearing in his hairline. "I only have one in my private quarters, but you're welcome to use it first."
"I love you," she blurted out.
If it hadn't been so embarrassing, it would have been hilarious to watch Jag's expression. Both his brows shot upward and he looked… Well, pole-axed would probably have been the correct description. As it was, it was the most embarrassing moment she could remember since… Well. Jaina blushed crimson and wished for a black hole to open up and swallow her immediately and completely – right here, on deck of Jag's ship.
"I mean, I'd love to," she mumbled. "Take a shower, that is. Um."
Jag's jaw worked for a few seconds, his eyes dark and scrutinizing, and Jaina looked everywhere except at him. Her face was positively burning.
"There are towels in the cabinet," he finally said, turned around and left.
Kill me, please. Jaina closed her eyes, took a few steadying breaths and followed him from the mess.
The water was clear and warm and wonderful and helped her calm down quite a bit. Jaina emerged from the refresher scrubbed and glowing and feeling clean for the first time in weeks. It felt like she had washed away a ton of sand, especially from her hair. Now, it hung light and wet down her shoulders. Jag's ship was small, just enough for a regular pilot, one or two travelers and a bit of cargo, but it didn't feel cramped at all. Instead, it had the familiar sense of a ship well-lived in and well-kept. A bit like the Falcon, but without the typically obvious Falcon-problems, she thought. Hesitating at the junction between the corridor that led to the cockpit and the one that led to the tiny guest quarter, Jaina called herself a few unflattering names and continued on to the cockpit. Jag was seated in the pilot's chair, his gaze fixed on the screen. He seemed to be replaying the news feeds of the past few weeks, completely focused on the information. She'd moved silently on purpose and was glad for it: now she could just look at him, the same way he had observed her earlier. He looked tired. His hair was longer than usual, sticking flat to his head in some places and standing off in others, and his chin was covered with the dark shade of his beard. But it was Jag. At his sight, her heart sped up.
Jag turned, as if to an unheard signal, and their eyes met. Jaina was unable to stop herself: she smiled.
That was when she finally accepted it.
"Your turn," she said.
Jag nodded, pressed some buttons and stood. He threw her a questioning glance. "You probably want to contact the Order."
"Yes, please," Jaina said and they switched places. The seat was still warm from his body heat.
"The signal's scrambled," he told her. "If anything happens, you know how to pilot a ship."
His display of trust set her on edge and warmed her from the inside at the same time.
"Go," she told him. And, because he was close enough for her to feel his body heat and it made her giddy: "Do something about that beard. You look like a pirate."
Are you flirting (with me), Jaina Solo?
Jag looked at her, his face unreadable. "I'm told the Skywalker-Solo women like pirates."
It shut her up effectively. She thought she heard him chuckle to himself when he left the cockpit, and closed her eyes to regain her calm. There was no way to chase away the smile on her face, though.
"Jaina!"
Her mother's voice carried a world of relief. Jaina could hear the sound of something – data pads, tools, whatever – being dropped hastily and her father's voice: "Is she there? Where is she? Is she alright?"
"Hi Mom, Dad," Jaina said and allowed herself to feel the same relief. "I'm on my way."
Jaina Solo, Sword of the Jedi, was going home.
