Again this is Elaina Cunningham's and GL's world, I just play in it. The dialogue and some text are straight from the book Dark Journey.

Please enjoy!


I KNOW...


After spending the better part of a day contemplating what role he wanted to play in the unfolding events of Jaina's life, Jag had finally made up his mind to approach the matter cautiously. As he walked through the Hapan military district, heading for the docking bay housing the Trickster, Jag reminded himself to keep expectations to a minimum and not to expect success on his first venture. Whatever connection he perceived in his mind was obviously a one-way process at this point, despite Tenel Ka's belief otherwise. Jag had decided to give simple friendship a try, then see where it took him.

Stepping through the open doorway leading into the docking bay, Jag was immediately confronted by the sound of humming energy, followed by a distinct snap, as if some large burst of power had been dispelled. Concealed somewhat by the shadow of the stairway leading into the catwalks, he crept forward, a hand at his blaster, ready to jump into action at a moment's notice.

To his utter surprise, the sight of Master Durron lunging at Jaina with a slashing attack confronted his eyes. Several thoughts raced through Jag's mind. Never one to make the mistake of underestimating a situation or his opponent, he quickly reviewed and discarded several possibilities in the course of a few seconds, ranging from Kyp turning dark, or likewise Jaina, to the simple explanation of a Master-apprentice sparring match.

As his brain turned ideas over, Jag's eyes never left the scene. Blocking a downward blow, Jaina twisted with feline grace, sending the male Jedi's sword out harmlessly from her body. Kyp disengaged and stepped back. "Who said I wanted to stop the mission? I want to fly it."

Jaina lowered her weapon slightly, her back to Jag. He could barely make out her reply. "You do?"

"If the mission is that important, I'll go myself."

Jaina raised her weapon back toward a protective stance. "Forget it. The Jedi are too few and too valuable to risk."

"I know…" The rest of Kyp's words were lost behind the hum of Jaina's lightsaber as she waved it casually in front of her body. "…want my apprentice to make some of the same mistakes I made."

Jag's shoulders eased slightly. So this was all simply a Master-apprentice sparring match. His deduction, and the least cause for concern, was correct after all. Jag started to turn and make his way for the door, figuring another time would be more appropriate for making his initial approach, when he was captivated by the sight of Jaina lunging forward in an aggressive strike. "What apprentice? You haven't beaten me yet."

Kyp was forced to parry or be cleaved in two. "I will," he said with a cocky smile. "And we both know it. We also know how difficult expectations can be. You've got to live up to your famous parents, which in some ways is even more difficult than living down a monumental failure."

No amount of reasoning would sway Jag from witnessing the culmination of the Jedi's seductive dance. He was captivated by the lithe agility of Jaina's attacks, but at the same time, he desperately needed to know where this conversation was going. Perhaps, he could find some clue to approaching her, to convince her to stay away from the lure of power laid before her by the former queen mother.

"You can't compare our situations." Jaina batted away a mid-torso strike, spinning with the effort. She sashayed away to recover her bearings, her lightsaber sweeping wide.

"We both lost brothers." Kyp stalked her momentary retreat.

Jaina lunged in a renewed attack, both hands aiding in the backhanded sweep of the weapon. "And maybe hitting…" Their lightsabers made contact at that very second, as if to emphasize the point. "…the Yuuzhan Vong hard will give some meaning to my brothers' deaths."

Jag's brow furrowed. There was no meaning in death, only pain. He had learned that fact the hard way. He understood though that Jaina could only discover this truth on her own. No amount of explaining would change the fact that some lessons were meant to be learned the hard way.

"I tried to avenge my brother," Kyp reminded her, "and I ended up killing him. Your mother thinks Jacen's still alive. What if she's right?"

Jag was stunned by the Master's last admission. The day of the Trickster's crash landing, he had more or less assured Jag that Jacen was dead despite Leia's feelings. Now Kyp was offering the admission as a treat to entice Jaina out of her self-imposed pit of despair. The tactic seemed outright cruel, especially to a man who had lost two siblings of his own. Imagining a glimmer of hope squashed back down to reality when a dead sibling failed to reappear was unbearable.

Jaina lowered her lightsaber, unexpectedly. Jag wished he could see her face. Was she stunned or angry? He held his breath in anticipation of her next move, which would truly reveal the answer one way or another. Likewise, Kyp shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, gaining balance in preparation for some impending attack he must have sensed. Jag guessed angry – very angry.

In a startling move, Jaina switched off her weapon. Even Kyp's face reflected a degree of surprise. "You want the mission? Take it. But you'd better survive it. We're not done here. Not by a long shot."

Jag lost sight of the astonished Jedi Master as he realized Jaina was heading directly for another back door. Stepping out from under the staircase, he sprinted across the distance on impulse, catching her just before she reached the back exit. Jag skidded to a stop, suddenly realizing that he had no idea what to say. Jaina eyed him warily.

"I came to thank you for your help," he said. This very line had been one of several he had tossed around in his head on the way over. It must have stuck for it was the first thought to cross his mind. Jag figured a simple gesture of gratitude would seem unobtrusive, but still imply some degree of intimacy, and possibly lead to further discussion.

"What are you talking about?"

A quick mental check dropped Jag back into his carefully guarded persona. Jaina was confused; for the moment he held the upper hand. His confidence grew. At least, she had not taken her lightsaber to him yet. That bode for a productive start.

"Word has it that you've been recruiting Hapan pilots, getting them back into the skies. I don't have enough scouts to cover this area. Every set of eyes helps. And when the time comes to fight, there will be more pilots prepared and aware."

Jag congratulated himself. He had succinctly complimented Jaina, and opened the door for her to participate in a discussion without initially touching on any difficult subjects. It would now be up to Jaina to drive the conversation in the direction she wanted. He knew Tenel Ka wanted him to help her friend resolve some issues, but Jaina had to open the door first.

As if to reward his measure of control, Jaina's icy stare softened. The lines around her mouth faded and a kinder undertone warmed her eyes. The subtle change was remarkable to Jag. In the matter of a few seconds, Jaina became the vision of beauty he had conjured many times in his dreams, not the avenging angel he confronted in the harsh light of day.

"We all do what we can." The simple statement projected a warm quality and a profound sadness in the same breath.

"You and your family have given more than most," he observed. Jag watched as her shoulders dropped and a haunted expression crossed her face at the mention of family. He toyed with the possibility that it simply was too early to broach the next subject, but in times of war, time itself became a precious commodity, especially when Jaina was sliding beyond his grasp quicker and quicker. He gambled.

"Forgive me, but I heard what Kyp Durron said to you. I know how difficult these times can be. I, too, lost two siblings in battle." There, he had shown his own vulnerability. The deaths of Davin and Cherith were not a subject Jag openly discussed with anyone, not his parents or even Shawnkyr, but he would relive the pain and open the fresh wound if he could relate to Jaina on some basic level.

Jaina bristled immediately, one of many reactions he had coolly calculated in the milliseconds before. "So what are you saying? That my loss is no greater than anyone else's? Anakin and Jacen are no more important than any other casualty."

He had taken the gamble, and it had unfortunately backfired. After the fact, Jag noted this was not the sort of truth she was ready to absorb at the moment. Every person passed through the stages of mourning at different rates. His test showed she was still in the mad-at-the-galaxy stage. He knew that stage well. Jag backed away from that line, lowering his eyes respectfully.

"That's not what I intended to portray."

Her ire faded quickly. "Forget it." She blew her bangs away from her eyes, a small gesture that seemed incredibly weary. "So why did you come? You're not usually one for small talk."

To be sure, Jag found himself in a dilemma of immense proportions. Jaina knew him well enough to recognize he was not one to dally with the pretense of sharing a shallow discussion, but he pondered how he could broach his true intentions without simply blurting out, "Don't marry Prince Isolder."

The wisest course of action, he concluded, this after hours of soul-searching combined with a cursory assessment of her mental state, was to appeal to the born leader in her. He had, of course, already complemented her for acquiring new pilots, and she had responded positively. He decided to petition her vanity once again, to illustrate to the practical side of her pilot's mind that she did not need to be Queen of Hapes to fulfill her goals.

"You have a natural gift for leadership." Her pupils widened slightly, a study of humans revealed this as a genuine sign of a willingness to listen. "People will follow you, whether you want them to or not. Rank is not important to someone like you."

Jaina's face went very still, and Jag waited for a sign. "This is all very interesting, but where is it going?"

Jag took her initial reaction as a good sign, her weapon was still clipped to her belt and the usual fiery blaze that accompanied Jaina's tendency to take issues personally was pleasantly absent. He proceeded.

"I just wanted to express an opinion," he said, feeling incredibly awkward at this stage. Jag was still skirting into territory more appropriate for two people who were sharing a relationship more akin to friendship, not fellow pilots caught up in a casual conversation.

He balled his fists and sucked it up. You are knee deep in it now, Fel. Best shoot the torpedo and see if it hits the mark. So far she has been receptive. "The rank you were born with suits you very well. Anything more would be redundant." Once the words were out, Jag released on unaudible sigh.

"I see," she said in a flat tone, not a hint of fight just some strange acceptance. Then she stared directly into his eyes. "Coming from the son of Baron Fel – a jumped-up Corellian dirt farmer – that's worth about as much as Ithorian currency."

The insult to his father, who Jag held above all others, was enough to fuel his temper. "Why must you take offense at every turn?"

The familiar flash ignited beneath the surface of Jaina's ever-changing demeanor, but there was something else there, too. He thought it was pain; she had the look of someone who had been punched in the gut. "Why must you answer questions that no one bothered to ask?"

That was hurt. Oh what have I done? I never meant to hurt you, I merely wanted to show you that being Queen was beneath you.

Jaina turned and fled from the hangar. Her pace was impossibly fast, some Force-assisted skill he assumed. Jag reflected on the monumental failure that he could call his own. For some reason, every opportunity with Jaina seemed to end dismally, from the state dinner to today. Turning to leave the hangar, Jag's step was slow and defeated. He replayed the scene in his mind, looking for the turning point.

Amazingly his thoughts did not dwell on the ending but rather the good points – the way she blew her bangs and the softening of her expression as he complimented her. Sweet Force, she is so beautiful. It wasn't just the beauty though, but the power and skill and fire seething below the surface that made Jaina burn hotter than others. She was untouchable, but like a Ployi moth to the flame, he wanted to get burned.

Images raced through his mind - Jaina in the red dress twirling out from his grasp, Jaina covered in green goo, her smile as she accepted his lunch invitation on the Chimaera. Those few moments were worth the cost. Bolstered by Tenel Ka's confidence, Jag remembered his conviction earlier to not let a single, poor showing sway him from the task at hand. Jag had decided his course; he had determined the quest worthy. His step now buoyed with confidence and his chin rose purposefully. As long as he was still flying, there was a chance, and, in that regard, Jaina Solo had certainly met her match in Jagged Fel.