Title: Touch and Go
Chapter: Part Six: "Happy Birthday, Flyboy"
Author: bactaqueen
Author's e-mail:
Category: New Jedi Order, EU
Keywords: Jaina Solo, Jag Fel, NJO
Rating: PG
Spoilers: New Jedi Order up to Balance Point
Summary: Space battles, pilot banter, and pre-romance interaction. After Ithor, Rogue Squadron was deployed to the warfront in the company of Spike Squadron. What happened between Jaina Solo and Jag Fel?
Disclaimer: "Star Wars" is copyright George Lucas and Lucasfilm, LTD. Jagged Fel is copyright Michael A. Stackpole. No profit is being made, this is purely for entertainment purposes.

Part Six: "Happy Birthday, Flyboy"

The long corridor was silent and cold. As Jaina Solo stepped out of the turbolift and into the passageway, the chrono strapped to her wrist confirmed the time. It was late; social calls at this hour could be classified as impolite and she knew it. She also knew that the colonel had spent the last six hours holed up in a conference room with his second-in-command, no doubt reviewing every record of every event since Gyndine.

Any normal human, Jaina reflected, would be exhausted. The young Jedi was acutely aware of the sound of her boots falling against the deck. She was also aware that her motivation was unclear, even to her. Oh, sure, she had her surface justification: this would be in keeping with her behavior since the beginning of this tour, and she knew he'd see that.

Jaina paused less than half a meter from the unmarked hatch. It was quite unremarkable, she thought; in fact, it looked just like every other hatch to every other cabin up and down the corridor, and if she'd had someone to bet with, Jaina would have laid money on the odds that the inside wasn't very extraordinary, either.

She lifted a hand and landed a knock on the sleek metal.

Jaina had enough time to smooth her hair down nervously, tug at the fabric of her soft brown flightsuit, and shift her weight uneasily from side to side. She was fidgeting. 'What would Mom say to that?'

"Enter," came the muffled command, and Jaina ordered herself to settle down. She passed her free hand over the panel set into the bulkhead beside the hatchway. The barrier slid up.

The colonel stood in the space between the two bunks, facing the entrance expectantly. When his gaze swept over her, Jaina felt his relief. He even slumped a little.

"Lieutenant," he said. Jag's hands uncurled themselves from fists at his sides.

"Colonel," she returned. Why was her heart pounding so loudly?

"It's late," he remarked when she said nothing.

Jaina nodded. "Yes."

For a long moment, Jag stared at her. He finally appeared to give up as he asked, "Was there something you wanted?"

Jaina noticed the well-disguised impatience in his tone, and that shook her out of the lethargy that had apparently claimed her. She quickly shook her head.

"No, I-" She smiled brightly. "I brought something for you."

Jag's smile was tight, and forced. "Well then, why don't you come in and have a seat?"

If he had been anyone else, Jaina would have expected Jag to be grinding his teeth. As it was, that muscle in his cheek twitched, in frustration, she supposed. In compliance with his request, Jaina all but launched herself at the unrumpled bunk closest to her. She folded her legs tailor-style, and settled the black cube she'd brought in her lap.

As the hatch came down, so did Jag. He sank carefully to the edge of the other bunk-the space-side one-and his eyes met hers.

"What is that?" he asked, politely, his hands gripping the edge of the bunk and his shoulders hunched.

Jaina noticed that he looked tired. She also noticed the stubble on his face and that his flightsuit was unsealed from neck to navel. She really had interrupted his sleep preparations, and she suddenly felt a sting of guilt. She'd hurry, she promised herself, and extended the box across the space to him.

"It's for you," she said, and congratulated herself on her eloquence. Jaina quirked a smile. "Happy birthday, flyboy."

Jag frowned as he accepted the box. "Excuse me?"

Jaina felt her expression fall, and her mind scrambled for the mistake she'd made in the interpretation of the information. "It's not your birthday?" She furrowed her brow and let her narrowed gaze fall from his. "Your file said-" Too late. Jaina's head snapped up as soon as the words left her mouth.

"My file?" Jag repeated.

She stared wide-eyed at him while she tried to decide what to do about the situation. He didn't look upset, she noted. 'He should-I sliced in.' Lieutenants didn't really need access to the personnel files for foreign commanders, and her activities could possibly be considered spying if she hadn't covered her tracks as well as she thought she did.

But then she saw the faint twitch at the corner of his lips, and all the anxiety she felt melted away. He wasn't upset; he was amused, and trying not to let her see it. Jaina gave him the patented Solo grin.

"That's right," she said.

"Well. Did you do it yourself?"

Jaina nodded. "Of course I did."

"I should probably be disappointed in you," he remarked mildly.

She shrugged. "Probably. Are you going to tell?"

"Tell what?" he countered, convincingly innocent. "I don't know anything."

"Oh, good."

The moment that found them conspirators was broken as he glanced down at the box he held; Jaina settled in for a stay, propping her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. She watched with curious amusement as she simply eyed the box, turning it carefully this way and that.

"You know, where I'm from, we open the boxes to see what's inside," she commented gently. His sharp glance in her direction made her want to laugh. "I promise it won't bite," she offered.

In Jaina's opinion, Jag was unduly cautious as he slipped one of the top panels away from the other three. Of course, she didn't know the story behind the caution and he didn't share. After a still moment, he continued to pull back the flaps; at length, withdrew the first gift, a pair of black flight gloves.

Jaina answered the inquiry in his expression. "Wedge said your dad used to wear the same ones," she explained.

Jag's gaze softened momentarily, and Jaina almost expected the memory she could feel, but he merely nodded once. "I remember," he said as he set the gloves aside.

She resisted the urge to frown. Jag had remembered something-something pleasant. She knew because she'd felt it. But he'd pushed it away, shut it off, and she had to wonder what could make a person stifle good memories.

Jaina almost missed when he removed the small electronic cube and held it up between forefinger and thumb. The glance he shot her was a veiled sort of questioning. She sensed that he'd shut down again.

"Imperial propaganda," she said with a wryness she didn't feel.

"Oh?"

"Do you have a player?" Jaina asked. Jag nodded, but didn't volunteer its location, and didn't move. "Where is it?"

As he palmed the cube, he gestured to the footlocker at the end of his bunk. "In there, with the datapad."

"May I?"

She sensed his surprise at her polite request. Not because it was polite, but because it was a request.

"Of course," he said, so quickly it must have been reflex.

Jaina extended her legs and rose, unable to avoid bumping her knees with his. The cabin was small, smaller still than the one she shared with Xada. It took less than two steps to reach the locker, and she knelt to open the top.

"I've never seen it," she began, conversationally, as she peered into the neat storage space. She wondered silently if there was anything imperfect about him.

It occurred to Jaina when she stood that she probably didn't want a positive answer to that stray thought.

"But I'm sure you have," she finished. She handed him the player and the datapad, and then resumed her position on the bunk opposite him.

Jag nodded his thanks and set about loading the cube and activating the display screen. Jaina took quick stock of her surroundings, as she hadn't before. The cabin was approximately three meters square, two and a quarter high, and the bulkheads were a severe gray. The bunks were narrow; the walk space between them not even half a meter, and the footlockers for each seemed to take up a great deal more space than they should.

Jaina nodded appreciatively. "Nice digs," she observed. "They just scream 'Jag Fel lives here.'"

Jag's smile was small and sardonic when he looked up at her. "I thought so," he replied. He then turned his attention back to the datapad in his hands.

With the play of blue-hued light over his face, Jag's impassiveness melted into another soft smile. Jaina's own smile was self-satisfied.

"Apparently, Wynssa Starflare was a talented actress," she said.

"The best," Jag confirmed. His head came up again, and with the most genuine expression she'd ever seen, he said, "Thank you."

"Everyone's allowed to miss home," she told him, "and you're welcome, but you still have one more thing left in that box."

He didn't seem to want to, but Jag set the datapad and the holoplayer on the welded-to-the-bulkhead table that served as the joint nightstand. Through the Force, Jaina could sense the small crack in his normally impenetrable shields. Jag Fel was, for the moment, unguarded. Apparently she'd interpreted the impression from the week before correctly; she felt another smug smirk coming on.

She was so lost in thought that she almost missed the light, rumbling chuckle Jag emitted upon discovering the final touch of the small birthday celebration.

"Ryshcate," he remarked.

"It's a Corellian tradition." Jaina shrugged. "And you've already proved that you're as Corellian as brandy, so it seemed appropriate."

"It is," Jag assured her. As he turned the square of sweet bread over, he met her eyes. "You're going to share with me."

The fact that he was giving her no option made Jaina smile. "Of course," she said, for the second time that evening.

"How did you-?"

Jaina cut him off quickly. "Don't ask, Jag. You don't want to know."

The young commander froze, in the action of breaking the dessert, and openly stared at her. There was mild shock in his facial cast, and Jaina pursed her lips.

"How-?"

"I said," she interrupted forcefully, "don't ask. Can't you follow orders?"

Jag's quick nod and urbane amusement entertained Jaina. "Yes, ma'am, of course," he said, and she was aware of the fact that he was humoring her.

"I can't imagine you'd have gotten this far if you couldn't," she remarked dryly, accepting the hunk of ryshcate he offered. She waited for him to speak the traditional phrase.

"We share this ryshcate the same way we share the celebration of another year passed," he said, somberly, and managed-to Jaina's approval-not to sound pompous at all.

"To another year gone, and many more to come," she agreed.

The ryshcate was an indulgence, and part of Jaina's apprehension before had stemmed from the fact that she hadn't known how he would react to such an indulgence. It was a tradition her father had clung to, though. For every birthday, for every Lifeday, and for every momentous occasion Jaina could remember, ryshcate had been part of it. She hadn't known if Jag's parents had held the same traditions. Wedge hadn't had an answer when she'd asked, and even asking the general that much had compromised her false motives.

"May I at least ask why you've done this?" Jag questioned, sweeping stray dark crumbs into the box.

Jaina brushed her mouth, and nodded. "In our line of work, Jag, you never know if this will be the last birthday you'll get," she told him.

He went somber on her again. "No, you don't," he agreed.

"Everyone deserves something on their birthday. Especially pilots."

"You say that as if you believe I wouldn't have celebrated on my own," he noted.

Jaina didn't struggle with the decision to be honest. "I don't believe you'd have done anything on your own," she stated, flatly. "You're too grim to take the small pleasures where you can find them, remember?"

Jag's smile spread slow, but wide. "You'll never let that go, will you?"

"Oh, someday, I will," she assured him. "Just not today."

"At least I have something to look forward to," he muttered.

"Oh, good." Jaina glanced politely at her wrist chrono, and started to rise. "I'll let you get some sleep. I know you have a long day planned for tomorrow."

Jaina watched him as she moved toward the hatch, and saw that he wanted to ask her how she knew, but he didn't. 'Fast learner,' she thought, with a ridiculous surge of pride. Jag stood.

"I do," he confirmed. "But I can't say that this wasn't worth it."

"Worth what?" she asked, playfully.

"The twenty minutes of sleep I'll lose," he told her.

"Only twenty?"

"Only twenty."

Jaina pressed the panel to open the hatch, and then took a step toward Jag. She lifted on tip-toe and brushed a light kiss to his cheek.

"Twenty minutes is still twenty minutes," she said, moving back to the hatchway. "Good night, Colonel."

"Good night, Lieutenant. And thank you."

"The pleasure was mine."

And she was gone.