Title: Touch and Go
Chapter: Part Eight: "Shattered Illusions"
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 from this writing. It is purely for entertainment. As his own people put it, the sandbox belongs to Mr. Lucas. I'm just playing in it.

Part Eight: "Shattered Illusions"

The clicking of Jag's footfalls echoed ominously in the empty corridors as he made his way through them, his stride full of purpose and confidence he did not feel. He knew where he was going: to find Jaina. What he wasn't clear on was why.

She wasn't the first fighter pilot to lose a wingmate, and she certainly wouldn't be the last. Xada wasn't even the first wingmate she'd lost. But the death of someone so close hit hard, and he knew by experience. Squadmates were family, if not by blood at least by choice. Jaina would be reacting to Xada's death in the same way she had reacted to Anni's death.

Jag had never been very good at consoling a mourning woman, and he knew it. It was not a skill he'd perfected. When his mother had been so lost and grief-stricken at the deaths of his siblings, the responsibility of drying her tears and holding her had been his father's; Jag hadn't abandoned his mother, but he hadn't made himself as available as possible. It wasn't something he was proud of, and it wasn't something he quite understood, either.

Perhaps that was why he came to a halt in front of the closed hatch. His hand hesitated over the panel; he was preparing to go in there and do what, precisely? He had no reference points for a situation like this. It wasn't something training had covered, and it wasn't something he'd thought he'd need, so he hadn't asked his father. He was following his gut, and his gut said that he needed to be in there with her. He knew that something between them had changed with that interlude in his room the week before, and he felt that not doing anything would do more damage to whatever it was they had than if he did something and did it wrong.

Jag palmed the panel, and the hatch slid up to reveal a dark, almost lifeless pilot's lounge. The portable sabacc tables were gone, and the furniture was rearranged into familiar configuration. He saw Jaina's silhouette against the viewport. As he entered, the hatch slid shut behind him. She remained motionless.

Slowly, Jag moved farther into the room, around the low couches and tables. In the silence, he was aware of the sound of his own breathing, and of the rustle of his flightsuit. He came around and could finally see her face clearly in the light provided by the dimmed glowpanels.

Jaina looked tired, and he knew she'd been crying. Her gaze was unfocused beyond the bank of viewports before her and she was slumped in the low, square chair. She still wore her flightsuit, unsealed a few centimeters from her throat.

The two young women had been close. Wingmates and bunkmates, and since Xada had joined the squadron, between them they'd tallied over twenty kills. Illusions were what kept fighter pilots coming back, Jag knew. Illusions that they and those around them were somehow invincible. Lieutenant Solo had lost two wingmates already. Her illusions were shattering.

'She's only sixteen,' Jag remembered with a start. She was so young. 'So am I.' He sank slowly to the edge of the forma-couch to her left, and rested his hands on his knees. He realized that he had no idea what to say or how to begin. Jaina hadn't even looked at him.

"How are you, Jaina?" he ventured, his throat dry. Mentally, Jag congratulated himself. 'Brilliant.'

She said nothing for so long that he thought she might not have heard him. Out the viewport, the fleet was suspended, immobile to the human eye, regrouping before making the next hyperspace jump. Running lights flared on the Champion; tiny, pale specks that were the patrolling starfighters were barely visible.

"I'm fine, Colonel," she said at last. Jag jerked, and Jaina lazily turned her attention on him. "Don't worry about me and don't explain the rookie stuff to me." Her voice had a fatigued edge to it that Jag had heard from generals. Jaina met his gaze squarely, and in those eyes he saw resignation. "It's not right," she continued, "but there was nothing else I could have done for her. We both knew the risks involved in playing the game."

"Yes," he agreed, for lack of anything more intelligent.

"Pilots die," Jaina continued with a sigh. "They always have, and they always will. It's a fact. Xada knew that. But she accepted it, because there was something more important to her than her life. I can respect that, but it's not much consolation to a grieving mother."

"No, it's not."

Jaina didn't say anything immediately. She turned back to the viewport, and her eyes again went soft and unfocused. Her fingers curled on the arms of the chair. Jag was aware of the tension that crept through her.

"After Ithor," Jaina began quietly, "Anni's mom contacted me. She told me she had some things of Anni's, if I ever got to Corellia, and I felt so guilty for not keeping Anni alive. I'll send my condolences to Xada's family, but the guilt will still be there, Jag. I wasn't good enough to keep her alive."

Jag wanted to argue, but he couldn't find the words. 'You are good enough seemed weak,' and anything about the way of the Force was too mystical for his own liking. He kept quiet, even as she paused to give him time to answer, and resolved to listen to her speak.

"There's just so much death." Jaina's voice was so hushed that he had to strain to hear her. "It doesn't end. I know why I volunteered, and I know why I'm here, but... They just keep coming, no matter what. We're not stopping them-we're more like a pebble in their boot. We're losing planets, systems, battles, and eventually, we're going to lose the war. I don't know what it's going to cost me, and, right now, I'm not sure the price is going to be worth it."

"You can't say that-" he began.

She turned on him quickly.

"Can't I? That's what she was talking about, just before they came out on us. She had a bad feeling about Tynna. She felt it and I didn't. Told me we should be green as grass, and you know what? She was right. I'm still a kid, Jag. So are you. When this is all over and done with, where's my childhood? I never had one, you know. Like you, only mine wasn't a society thing. And now..." Jaina trailed off, and sighed heavily. "My aunt's sick, my father's Force knows where, my mother thinks she's fighting the Empire, I've got one brother who won't take action, and another who takes too much. The Jedi are on their way to being the sworn protectors of people who betray them. At every turn, someone I know or love is dead, and I'm not seeing a break in the pattern any time soon."

Jag had seen this reaction before, and he knew he was right about her illusions shattering. She was dangerously close to losing faith. He knew her innocence was a lost cause; he felt an unfamiliar twinge at that. He pushed it away, opted to explore it later, if he had time.

When he'd met her-weeks ago, it seemed at that moment like ages-he told her she wasn't grim enough. He held his tongue and studied her carefully. She was again near tears. Briefly, he wondered at his own reaction if she should break down into tears before him.

"I don't know how you do it, Jag. People die around you. Doesn't it affect you?"

"Yes," he answered. She waited for an explanation. "It does, but not in the same way. You know differently, Jaina. Where I grew up, there was nothing different. I've accepted it."

"That's not right," she said.

"It's not my place to say."

For a moment, Jaina stared at him, mouth agape. "Not your place...?" she managed. Her jaw snapped shut with an audible click, and she shook her head. "How can you say that, Jag? It's not your place to determine what's right and wrong for you?"

"It's not my place to determine right or wrong for the galaxy," he corrected. "I know what's right for me, and I know what isn't. Acceptance is the path I've chosen, Jaina, but maybe it isn't for you."

"I can't go around in denial," she scoffed.

Jag almost wanted to smile. "That's probably not healthy," he agreed.

"I don't think I understand what you mean," she admitted.

Jag was pleased to note the lack of tears in her eyes, and the recession of the flush that had plagued her face.

"I fight because I don't know anything else," he clarified. "You fight because you've been threatened."

"You've been threatened, too," she countered.

Slowly, Jag shook his head. "No, I haven't. The Vong have made no move toward Chiss space."

"Then why are you here?" she demanded.

"Diplomatic relations?" he offered.

After a dubious silence, Jaina started laughing.

"I think, this time, I'm grateful for the intervention of politics," she mused.

As he watched, she straightened up, and even smiled slightly. Jaina reached to smooth her hair, and she again heaved a heavy sigh, but it was a sigh of relief. That strange shadow skimmed the edge of his mind again, but Jag was preoccupied with the strange warmth he felt, somewhere between his heart and his stomach. It wasn't physical, he knew that, but it was something...

It came together in another flash of insight. The shadow wasn't so much a memory of a specific event as it was just a general memory of a feeling he hadn't experienced in too long. Jaina seemed to bring it back, and that warmth was... Something he didn't quite recognize, but it didn't feel wrong.

'Too much time on your feelings tonight, Colonel.' A small, wry smile twisted his lips. He knew exactly what Shawnkyr and the rest of his people would think about feelings.

"I think I agree with you."

Jaina peered at him curiously, and Jag wondered for a fleeting second if she could sense anything changed in him. He felt changed, he knew that.

"Thank you, Jag," she said simply, and moved to rise.

He stood quickly, and, belatedly, it occurred to him that it may have been a mistake to do so. She was close, easily within reach, and when she looked up at him, those brown eyes tugged at something in his chest.

Jaina pressed her lips into a thin line. Her gaze flickered down and then back up. Vaguely, he questioned the temperature of the room.

"You're welcome," he remembered to say, and Jaina nodded.

She stepped away. The moment was broken, and he had the distinct impression that he'd lost his chance.

"Are you going to bed now?" he asked, and repeated the question in his mind to be sure it had come out properly.

"Yes," she said. He watched her roll her shoulders, and she tilted her head from side to side. He forced his gaze to remain on her face.

"May I escort you?" He realized too late that the simple phrase could be misconceived as an inappropriate proposition. "To your quarters," he added hastily.

Jaina's smile was something small. The word 'intimate' came to mind, but he banished it and the thoughts it brought instantly.

"I'd like that."

Half out of jest, Jag offered her his arm. For a moment, Jaina regarded him with an expression of slight puzzlement, but she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. He let out a breath, and started to lead her toward the hatch.

Once in the corridor, she drew his attention again.

"I mean it, Jag," she murmured, and looked up. "You didn't have to do this, tonight, but you did. I appreciate it."

"I know you do," he returned, and directed them both into the turbolift. He pressed the appropriate button, and the doors slid shut. He turned to her. "And I mean it, too. You're welcome. Contrary to popular opinion, Solo, some of us do believe in going above and beyond the call of duty." He offered a cocky grin.

Jaina narrowed her eyes. "I'll bet you even have a medal for it somewhere, don't you?"

The blush rose unbidden from the neck of his flightsuit. "Yes," he admitted.

"I thought so," she grumbled.

'How does she make a medal of honor seem like a bad thing?'