Jaina stood and held him at arm's length, keeping a tight grip on his
calloused hands. She began at the bottom, gazing at the cracked toenails
and the dirty feet covered in newly-healed sores that had puckered to an
angry reddish-pink. Her eyes continued upward, past his ankles, where the
ends of his pants hung awkwardly, one leg longer than the other.
Past the frayed knees, where the brown fabric had been worn to a tired gray, to the waist of brown, mossy pants that were rolled up and knotted at the waist, obviously not tailored for a human's physique. She looked up, her gaze falling on their linked hands, and when she turned them over, so that his palms were facing downward, she saw a criss-crossing map of raised scars that she had no memory of him ever aquiring.
She looked up, past the too-long sleeves of the tunic, made of the same living material as the pants, to the collar, which, in the middle, hung far enough past his prominent collarbone to reveal the frightening beginning of a wide scar that looked as if it had not fully mended. Past his neck, to the scraggly, uneven blondish-brown hair on his face that appeared to have been hacked at with a knife, up to the much darker brown of the hair that hung lank, swept back from his face to curl just below the level of his ears, and looked to have been cut in the same manner as his beard.
She stopped there for a moment, mesmerized by his forehead, where the lines that she had previously seen appear only in moments of darkest worry, had been engraved permanently into the landscape of his face. The familiar scar under his eye was still evident, but looked like a mere scratch in light of the other marks that she had discovered on his body. Finally, she drew her gaze to the one place she had been avoiding: his eyes.
As she stared into their depths, she was forced to remind herself that she was looking at her twin brother, whose every dark corner, every dusty alcove of memory, every buried feeling, had been as familiar as her own. She felt slightly naseous with the realization that those days were over. Because in his eyes, she saw the first small hint of what it was that had changed him so. And that clue, that tiny glimpse of his experience, hit her like a punch in the stomach, and for half a second she couldn't catch her breath.
Staring into his eyes, she had the impression that if she were to fall into them, she would be sucked into a swirling whirlpool that would assault all of her senses and from which escape would be doubtful. She had the impression, the fear, that she would experience things that her mind, with all it had seen, could not even begin to envision. She had the feeling that if she fell within those eyes and then turned and looked back out them, she would see a very different universe, a differnt reality, than the one she currently existed in.
"Jasa?" she breathed hesitantly.
"Jaya," he said, grinning widely.
And as tears gathered on his lashes and fell, the depth of his eyes seemed to be suddenly hidden from her, and she wondered if she had imagined its existence. Perhaps it had been a trick of the light. As the deep brown color of his irises lightened, and he gathered her in his arms once more, she swept her fears aside.
She held him firmly, enjoying the familiar forest smell, like dried leaves or a crackling fire, that always seemed to accompany Jacen. She giggled as the scratchy growth on his cheeks rubbed against her face, still damp with tears. They both stepped back slowly, reluctantly, and, eyes shining with delight, walked arm in arm down the squishy docking ramp to meet their parents.
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-------------------------------
Leia met them first, and could only say, in a choked whisper, "Oh, my darling," before she threw her arms around his waist. Jacen could not have imagined how good, how right, it felt to finally feels his mother's arms around him, as if the universe had for some time been careening forward wildly off-kilter and now had settled itself back into place. He felt reduced to the age of a small child, who, having just woken up terrified and lost from some horrific nightmare, could only find comfort in his mother's reassuring whispers from the depths of her embrace.
His father, who had been standing behind Jacen, gripping his shoulder while he hugged his mother, pulled Jacen around and looked him in the eyes with a searching gaze. All humor, all mischief, all pretense had disappeared completely from Han's face, leaving only the image of a tense father, who quickly tugged Jacen into his arms.
Jacen nestled his face in his father's shoulder and closed his eyes, basking in the warmth of his embrace and soaking up the love he could feel emating from Han, as he kissed Jacen's hair as he had done so often when Jacen had been young. When his parents finally released him, and after he had taken a last, long look to reassure himself that they were real, he turned to his aunt and uncle.
Both of them pulled him into long hugs, and he could see tears even on Mara's face as she said, "Jacen. We're so glad you're home." The red, tearing pain that had been his constant companion ceased to throb, and he could feel it begin to heal, deep inside of him. Yet as Mara gave him Ben to hold in his arms, and he saw a small gleam of intelligence in the boy's eyes that had not been present the last time he had seen Ben, he felt the knife edge of regret stab his gut as he realized how much he had missed during his absence. His sister, too, had changed. She seemed more at peace, somehow, though he had not yet had the time to examine this transformation.
Later, he thought to himself, determined to enjoy this moment without reservation.
But the soaring feeling as he stood with his family was negligible compared to the experience of reuniting with his sister.
What most people failed to realize about Jacen and Jaina was that they were not simply twins. They were two halves of one soul, of one being, connected by birth and through the Force. And they were infinitely more alive when they were together. They needn't be in the same room, or even on the same planet, as long as they could reach out and touch each other through the Force. The sensation of feeling those two haves touch each other hesitantly and then slowly begin to knit together again was one of the most profound experiences of Jacen's life.
Certainly, the twins could live apart and function without one another and without their Force bond; they had proven that over the last year. But it was a half-life, a bruised life, when their soul was ripped in two as it had been. To regain his full spectrum of sensations was a feeling that was indescribable. It was like everything had been flat, two dimensional, painted hastily and blurrily, with washed-out gray colors, as if his life had been left too long to bake in the sun, and the heat had sucked all the pigmet out. When he had crashed into Jaina on the landing ramp, the landscape around him seemed suddenly to burst into three vibrant dimensions, dancing with colors so blazingly alive, it would have seemed a desecration of their beauty to attempt to fence them in with something so mundane as a name.
Again, he turned to grin at his sister, but he suddenly realized that all the smiles had abruptly disappeared from him family's faces. It was frightening experience, to see the eyes, that had only a moment before been glowing with warmth, cool and harden, and to see the previously smiling faces reform into masks of piercing hatred.
He stumbled backward, horrified to discover that his glorious reunion had not been real, but only another nightmare in a long series of terrifying visions in which his family's love and joy at his return had without any warning mutated into disgust and hatred.
"No young Solo. They are simply ... dismayed by my appearance," came a voice from behind him.
He had only enough time to feel the very beginnings of the tidal wave of relief that swept over him, before reality slammed into his brain. Vergere. Oh, Vegere... How could he have forgotten to tell them? How could he have neglected to warn them that he was not alone, that his companion should not be harmed, that they should not yet question him?
He looked back at his family to see a chilling scene. In Han's grip was a blaster that Jacen was certain had not been there a second before, though Jacen had no memory of Han's hand moving. He harbored no illusions that the blaster was set to stun. One of the beings who had been present at the death of Han's youngest son, and who had been apparently aiding those who had slain Anakin was before him, standing directly in the path of his blaster, unprotected. Vengance burned bright in Han's eyes.
Mara cut a figure that was no less frightening. She was standing with her left foot slightly ahead of the right, hip forward, lightsaber in her left hand, buzzing menacingly. Classic fighting stance. Two, maybe three long steps, and Mara could cut Vergere in half. The small alien had changed allegiances one too many times for Mara to forgive. Jacen saw her muscles tense for action, and Luke made no move to stop her. He, in fact, was fingering his lightsaber with his left hand, even as he held Ben in his other arm.
Jag and Jaina both had their blasters drawn, but their eyes were clear, though no less ready for a fight. Both of them stood taut, but still, evaluating the situation.
Leia was standing unarmed, but with a calculating look that Jacen considered no less deadly than the most dangerous weapon his aunt could produce.
Jacen quickly stepped forward, directly in front of Vergere, held his hands out wide, and said in a firm voice, "No. She is with me." When no one lowered their weapons, Jacen called on the Force for aid.
Suddenly, an aura of immense power surrounded Jacen, almost blazing in its intensity, creating a ring of protection that extended to envelope Vergere. The four Force-sensitives faltered, looking in wonder and disbelief at this demon that burned with blinding incandescence in the Force, though its body looked identical to Jacen Solo. Even Han blinked in confusion, and a hint of fear danced in his gut. As they lowered their weapons, the column of Force-flames that had surrounded Jacen and Vergere wavered and then dissapated. Everyone stood unmoving, astonished by what they had just witnessed.
Vegered looked at Jacen, apparently ignoring the fact that she had only moments before been in mortal danger. "I will expect you back in one week."
Jacen nodded at her apologetically. "One week, I promise."
Leia was the first to recover the use of her voice. "Jacen, what's going on?" she asked, the shrewd look back in her eyes.
"Just give me a week," he said, rubbing his face exhaustedly. "Leave the ship, don't disturb Vergere, and give me one week with no questions."
Luke narrowed his eyes in mistrust, and Jacen saw Han and Mara exchange glances, as if preparing to jump into action. Jag and Jaina shared a confused look, and Jaina spoke hesitantly, "Jacen, what-"
But Leia stepped forward and held up a hand to silence them all. "Of course, Jacen. One week." She walked towards him, and linked her arm with his. "Let's go home."
-----------------------------------
Past the frayed knees, where the brown fabric had been worn to a tired gray, to the waist of brown, mossy pants that were rolled up and knotted at the waist, obviously not tailored for a human's physique. She looked up, her gaze falling on their linked hands, and when she turned them over, so that his palms were facing downward, she saw a criss-crossing map of raised scars that she had no memory of him ever aquiring.
She looked up, past the too-long sleeves of the tunic, made of the same living material as the pants, to the collar, which, in the middle, hung far enough past his prominent collarbone to reveal the frightening beginning of a wide scar that looked as if it had not fully mended. Past his neck, to the scraggly, uneven blondish-brown hair on his face that appeared to have been hacked at with a knife, up to the much darker brown of the hair that hung lank, swept back from his face to curl just below the level of his ears, and looked to have been cut in the same manner as his beard.
She stopped there for a moment, mesmerized by his forehead, where the lines that she had previously seen appear only in moments of darkest worry, had been engraved permanently into the landscape of his face. The familiar scar under his eye was still evident, but looked like a mere scratch in light of the other marks that she had discovered on his body. Finally, she drew her gaze to the one place she had been avoiding: his eyes.
As she stared into their depths, she was forced to remind herself that she was looking at her twin brother, whose every dark corner, every dusty alcove of memory, every buried feeling, had been as familiar as her own. She felt slightly naseous with the realization that those days were over. Because in his eyes, she saw the first small hint of what it was that had changed him so. And that clue, that tiny glimpse of his experience, hit her like a punch in the stomach, and for half a second she couldn't catch her breath.
Staring into his eyes, she had the impression that if she were to fall into them, she would be sucked into a swirling whirlpool that would assault all of her senses and from which escape would be doubtful. She had the impression, the fear, that she would experience things that her mind, with all it had seen, could not even begin to envision. She had the feeling that if she fell within those eyes and then turned and looked back out them, she would see a very different universe, a differnt reality, than the one she currently existed in.
"Jasa?" she breathed hesitantly.
"Jaya," he said, grinning widely.
And as tears gathered on his lashes and fell, the depth of his eyes seemed to be suddenly hidden from her, and she wondered if she had imagined its existence. Perhaps it had been a trick of the light. As the deep brown color of his irises lightened, and he gathered her in his arms once more, she swept her fears aside.
She held him firmly, enjoying the familiar forest smell, like dried leaves or a crackling fire, that always seemed to accompany Jacen. She giggled as the scratchy growth on his cheeks rubbed against her face, still damp with tears. They both stepped back slowly, reluctantly, and, eyes shining with delight, walked arm in arm down the squishy docking ramp to meet their parents.
----------
-------------------------------
Leia met them first, and could only say, in a choked whisper, "Oh, my darling," before she threw her arms around his waist. Jacen could not have imagined how good, how right, it felt to finally feels his mother's arms around him, as if the universe had for some time been careening forward wildly off-kilter and now had settled itself back into place. He felt reduced to the age of a small child, who, having just woken up terrified and lost from some horrific nightmare, could only find comfort in his mother's reassuring whispers from the depths of her embrace.
His father, who had been standing behind Jacen, gripping his shoulder while he hugged his mother, pulled Jacen around and looked him in the eyes with a searching gaze. All humor, all mischief, all pretense had disappeared completely from Han's face, leaving only the image of a tense father, who quickly tugged Jacen into his arms.
Jacen nestled his face in his father's shoulder and closed his eyes, basking in the warmth of his embrace and soaking up the love he could feel emating from Han, as he kissed Jacen's hair as he had done so often when Jacen had been young. When his parents finally released him, and after he had taken a last, long look to reassure himself that they were real, he turned to his aunt and uncle.
Both of them pulled him into long hugs, and he could see tears even on Mara's face as she said, "Jacen. We're so glad you're home." The red, tearing pain that had been his constant companion ceased to throb, and he could feel it begin to heal, deep inside of him. Yet as Mara gave him Ben to hold in his arms, and he saw a small gleam of intelligence in the boy's eyes that had not been present the last time he had seen Ben, he felt the knife edge of regret stab his gut as he realized how much he had missed during his absence. His sister, too, had changed. She seemed more at peace, somehow, though he had not yet had the time to examine this transformation.
Later, he thought to himself, determined to enjoy this moment without reservation.
But the soaring feeling as he stood with his family was negligible compared to the experience of reuniting with his sister.
What most people failed to realize about Jacen and Jaina was that they were not simply twins. They were two halves of one soul, of one being, connected by birth and through the Force. And they were infinitely more alive when they were together. They needn't be in the same room, or even on the same planet, as long as they could reach out and touch each other through the Force. The sensation of feeling those two haves touch each other hesitantly and then slowly begin to knit together again was one of the most profound experiences of Jacen's life.
Certainly, the twins could live apart and function without one another and without their Force bond; they had proven that over the last year. But it was a half-life, a bruised life, when their soul was ripped in two as it had been. To regain his full spectrum of sensations was a feeling that was indescribable. It was like everything had been flat, two dimensional, painted hastily and blurrily, with washed-out gray colors, as if his life had been left too long to bake in the sun, and the heat had sucked all the pigmet out. When he had crashed into Jaina on the landing ramp, the landscape around him seemed suddenly to burst into three vibrant dimensions, dancing with colors so blazingly alive, it would have seemed a desecration of their beauty to attempt to fence them in with something so mundane as a name.
Again, he turned to grin at his sister, but he suddenly realized that all the smiles had abruptly disappeared from him family's faces. It was frightening experience, to see the eyes, that had only a moment before been glowing with warmth, cool and harden, and to see the previously smiling faces reform into masks of piercing hatred.
He stumbled backward, horrified to discover that his glorious reunion had not been real, but only another nightmare in a long series of terrifying visions in which his family's love and joy at his return had without any warning mutated into disgust and hatred.
"No young Solo. They are simply ... dismayed by my appearance," came a voice from behind him.
He had only enough time to feel the very beginnings of the tidal wave of relief that swept over him, before reality slammed into his brain. Vergere. Oh, Vegere... How could he have forgotten to tell them? How could he have neglected to warn them that he was not alone, that his companion should not be harmed, that they should not yet question him?
He looked back at his family to see a chilling scene. In Han's grip was a blaster that Jacen was certain had not been there a second before, though Jacen had no memory of Han's hand moving. He harbored no illusions that the blaster was set to stun. One of the beings who had been present at the death of Han's youngest son, and who had been apparently aiding those who had slain Anakin was before him, standing directly in the path of his blaster, unprotected. Vengance burned bright in Han's eyes.
Mara cut a figure that was no less frightening. She was standing with her left foot slightly ahead of the right, hip forward, lightsaber in her left hand, buzzing menacingly. Classic fighting stance. Two, maybe three long steps, and Mara could cut Vergere in half. The small alien had changed allegiances one too many times for Mara to forgive. Jacen saw her muscles tense for action, and Luke made no move to stop her. He, in fact, was fingering his lightsaber with his left hand, even as he held Ben in his other arm.
Jag and Jaina both had their blasters drawn, but their eyes were clear, though no less ready for a fight. Both of them stood taut, but still, evaluating the situation.
Leia was standing unarmed, but with a calculating look that Jacen considered no less deadly than the most dangerous weapon his aunt could produce.
Jacen quickly stepped forward, directly in front of Vergere, held his hands out wide, and said in a firm voice, "No. She is with me." When no one lowered their weapons, Jacen called on the Force for aid.
Suddenly, an aura of immense power surrounded Jacen, almost blazing in its intensity, creating a ring of protection that extended to envelope Vergere. The four Force-sensitives faltered, looking in wonder and disbelief at this demon that burned with blinding incandescence in the Force, though its body looked identical to Jacen Solo. Even Han blinked in confusion, and a hint of fear danced in his gut. As they lowered their weapons, the column of Force-flames that had surrounded Jacen and Vergere wavered and then dissapated. Everyone stood unmoving, astonished by what they had just witnessed.
Vegered looked at Jacen, apparently ignoring the fact that she had only moments before been in mortal danger. "I will expect you back in one week."
Jacen nodded at her apologetically. "One week, I promise."
Leia was the first to recover the use of her voice. "Jacen, what's going on?" she asked, the shrewd look back in her eyes.
"Just give me a week," he said, rubbing his face exhaustedly. "Leave the ship, don't disturb Vergere, and give me one week with no questions."
Luke narrowed his eyes in mistrust, and Jacen saw Han and Mara exchange glances, as if preparing to jump into action. Jag and Jaina shared a confused look, and Jaina spoke hesitantly, "Jacen, what-"
But Leia stepped forward and held up a hand to silence them all. "Of course, Jacen. One week." She walked towards him, and linked her arm with his. "Let's go home."
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