This is a missing scene from Dark Journey. It is directly before the mission to test Jaina's new invention that tricks the Vong craft into giving off the Trickster's gravitic signal. Again I am working with Elaine Cunningham's world. Hope you enjoy...


FIXING THINGS


Stretching as far into the engine compartment as his arm would permit within the confines of the hatch, Jag reached until he felt the particulator's coolant line. His fingertips immediately met with the viscous feel of leaking fluid. Blindly fumbling his way down the hose, he found the attachment housing loose to the touch. He tightened the casing as much as he could with his fingers before withdrawing his arm.

It took some degree of wriggling to get his shoulders and head out of the hatch. Turning to step off the borrowed crate that allowed Jag to just get his head and upper body in through the opening in order to work on the engine, he looked down to ensure that no tools were underfoot in the area in which he intended to land. Oddly, two small, booted feet stepped, one and then the other, into his line of sight. He had to duck under the fuselage to see who the unexpected guest was.

After a moment of unguarded shock, Jag closed his mouth subtly. Standing before him, Jaina stood in a black jumpsuit trimmed in blue piping, her hair plopped loosely atop her head in a hairclip. Her expression was one of implied interest as she studied the lines of his ship until her eyes turned toward him.

Jag was glad she was momentarily distracted so that by the time their eyes met, he was fully in control of his faculties once again. "Hello, Jaina."

She tipped her head to acknowledge the greeting. "Hey. I bet I am the last person you expected to see."

Jag stepped off the crate so he not towering over Jaina. "Considering it is after midnight and I believe you have devoted your every waking second to the Yuuzhan Vong frigate, it would be safe to assume yes."

A rueful smile crossed Jaina's lips, but she also appeared somewhat unsettled, to the best of Jag's determination. "What you meant to say was, not after the way we parted yesterday."

Jag raised an eyebrow in respect for her candor. "That, too, I suppose. It serves me right though, for answering questions I was never asked."

Jaina wrung her hands nervously. "Well, what's done is done. I really shouldn't take things so personally. I'm sure you were just trying to spare me by sharing your infinite wisdom."

Jag forced his eyes to stay centered on Jaina's face while he used his peripheral vision to look for other outward signs of her mental state. From her statement, he was not sure if she was heading for another confrontation, or merely offering her own apology of sorts. In that regard, he always found Jaina a difficult read.

Reaching for a rag, Jag wiped the slick fluid off his hands. He maintained eye contact as he spoke. "Just out for an evening stroll, then?"

"Not really." She paused.

"Or, couldn't help yourself when you saw my fighter?" Jag quipped when he saw her falter.

Jaina gazed up, her eyes making a quick study of the underside of the clawcraft with the look of adoration only possible for a true pilot. In that regard, she was a kindred spirit, one who only knew true happiness in the freedom of the cockpit. Finally she turned back to smile at him. Remarkably, it was quite sincere.

"She is a beauty. I can't say I am partial to Imperial TIE models, being a Rebel and all, but what the Chiss have done is close to a work of art."

Jaina rubbed her fingertips lovingly across the blade edge of the nearest wing. Shivers ran down Jag's spine unexpectedly. The love and tenderness she put into the caress would have undone his manhood for certain. The accompanying hot flash that ran to his cheeks forced Jag to turn away. Leaning down in order to hide his face, he fumbled through the tools.

"Well, my work of art is just that until I get her fixed." He found the hydrospanner he was searching for, then stood, now in full control of his body's unacceptable fluctuations in surface temperature control.

Jaina's interest was instantly piqued by the mention of his fighter's condition as was evident in the wideness of her eyes. He thought there might even have been an uncharacteristic twinkle. "What's wrong with her?"

For a moment, Jag studied the way Jaina palmed the wing with a look of concern, like the fighter was injured or had feelings. Human pilots, himself included, had for centuries referred to their craft, be it ship or fighter or boat, in the feminine form. Jag had always wondered if it was some male need to bond and form a partnership. From Jaina's expression, it was more like the fighter was a place of safety and growth reminiscent of the womb. The craft was a nurturer, and that inherently made it female. The vessels nurtured humankind's very existence.

Jag twirled the tool in his hand absent-mindedly. "The particulator's coolant line keeps coming loose at the attachment housing. I haven't had the time to drop the port engine and find the source of the problem. Every so often, though, I get a warning light in the cockpit, and I find myself tightening it up."

"That could be a problem if you have to cut back the particle flow in the middle of a furball."

Jag pointed the hydrospanner to a plasma burn along the ventral port wing. "Tell me about it."

Studying the scar, Jaina grimaced. "Ouch. That's a little too close for comfort." She turned her face back to Jag. He thought he saw a faint flash of worry evident in the slight furrow between her brows. It was gone too soon to be sure. "May I have a look?"

"Well, this fighter is not like your snubfighters working on a twenty year old design. Most of the components are state-of-the-art…"

Jaina waved a hand. "Never mind. Sorry I asked."

Jag took the interruption in stride and tried to explain himself. "You should be…"

Jaina propped her hands on her hips. "I should be, huh? Let me tell you something, Mr. Chiss, I have worked on TIE fighters before. As a matter of fact, I put one together all by myself a few years back. And I have been taking apart and putting the Falcon back together for as long as I can remember. My dad says there is no one better when it comes to fixing ships, and I respect his opinion above all else. I suppose that skill only applies to our ancient Rebel ships, though."

Her eyes dared him to contradict her. For a moment, Jag felt the little monster called frustration rear its ugly head, then he squashed it with a chuckle. He was sure laser beams were going to burst forth from her pupils at any second; the thought caused his laugh to grow.

Throwing her hands up, Jaina exclaimed, "I should have known this was a waste of time. Why would you ever want to help me, if I am so far…" Jag's laughter grew with every passing second. The more he tried to stifle it, the redder and more self-engrossed in the actual event he became. "…down in your estimation?" With that, she turned to stomp off.

"If you must know, I hold you in very high esteem."

Jag fought valiantly to quiet his bobbing shoulders and convulsing diaphragm as Jaina coolly about-faced. There was still a cold gleam in her eyes, but the lasers had powered down, for the moment. "That's difficult to tell from your actions."

"I don't think so."

"Well maybe on Csilla they do things differently…"

Jag's face suddenly became very firm, his body rigid. It was an ingrained defense mechanism he could never fight when he felt backed into a corner, and for some reason, Jaina always put him in that position. "If you will just let me get a word in edgewise, I might be able to explain."

The sound of his curt outburst caused Jaina's mouth to slam shut. Jag inhaled sharply once through his nose, taking her silence as a sign to continue. "I started to say you should be able to visualize the actual hose attachment since your smaller build will allow you further into the engine compartment. Maybe you can even tighten it for me since it is a cumbersome task doing it blindly."

Jaina was obviously not completely convinced as evident by the set of her mouth. "And before that?"

Jag felt the heat of his temper's fire rise all the way to the tip of his ears. She must have sensed this, for Jaina actually drew back her head as if he might burn her right back with his own eye-socket laser beams.

"I was going to explain that the components are state-of-the-art, but still resemble the old Rebellion-age TIE design to a degree. I don't think a woman of your mechanical talent would be unable to draw comparisons."

With the wind completely blown out of her sails, Jaina's shoulders lowered from around her ears at the same time that her posture relaxed. "Oh."

She looked so guilty that Jag's disposition softened immediately. "I would be most appreciative if you would offer your assistance in repairing my clawcraft."

Jaina stared up with her big brown eyes, blinking once slowly to rinse away the watery sheen that had made them appear sadder still. Finally, after a pregnant pause, she nodded once. "Sure."

Jag stepped aside and made room for Jaina to climb up the crate under the access hatch. Jag's head reached just under the fighter's hull when he stood on the crate, but Jaina, being a head shorter, had to reach her arms straight up to even get her hands in the access hatch. Recognizing the dilemma, Jag quickly scanned the vicinity for any extra crates. By the time he turned back to Jaina, she was already halfway immersed in the hatch, her legs dangling out the opening.

Duly impressed, Jag stepped forward and stared up. It took only a moment for his eyes and thoughts to drift places other than the ailments afflicting his port engine. His eyes wandered aimlessly across the outline of her figure that was left open for closer inspection; the rest of Jaina wriggled and wrestled around out of sight and definitely out of mind.

The echoing of Jaina's voice snapped Jag back from his reverie. "It's definitely the attachment housing that's loose, but your problem is that the extension arm has broken at the weld."

She grunted as she shifted position. A second later she was falling out of the hole. As she landed and righted her balance, she continued her thought. "If you have a hand welder, I could fix it in a heartbeat."

Standing on the crate, Jaina was at Jag's eye level. He had not really been this close since the diplomatic dinner. He was instantly enthralled by virtue of the proximity to her. He noticed first that her hair had escaped the clip, flowing down like a beautiful caf waterfall. Then, he took in the streak of grease and dirt smudged across her left cheek. The harshness of the stain did little to mar the smooth definition of her skin, but rather offset it and increased its inherent beauty. As a strange, quizzical expression crossed her brow and crept down into her eyes, Jag realized he was staring with a silly smile smacked to his lips, teased there at the recollection of a happier moment in time.

"Oh, right. I have one of those." Jag pivoted away suddenly before he found more than his eyes were captivated by the seductive trappings. Trying to focus, Jag quickly catalogued the extensive tool collection laid out before him. He spotted the welder, then bent to pick it up.

As his hand met the handle, a thought occurred to him. "I don't have a face shield here." He stood with the welder in his hand.

Jaina held her hand out, beckoning with her fingers. "I don't really need one."

"But you can't weld the piece with your eyes closed…"

Jaina's snort brought his sentence to a grinding halt. "Actually, I can. Jedi, remember?" She pressed her outstretched hand once again. "May I?"

"If you are sure it will be all right. I would never want any harm to come to you."

Jaina did not answer, just blinked once. He knew the answer. It was the first time Jag had ever felt like he could read between the lines that locked Jaina's soul in her self-made prison.

Reluctantly, Jag placed the welder in her hand. Their fingers touched for the briefest of seconds, but it was enough of a touch to send his senses reeling. Flashes of Jaina holding his hand as they escaped the crowd at the diplomatic dinner blurred his vision like a jolt of instant juice. Sensory and memory inputs suddenly went into hyperdrive. The sensation was so palpable he could feel the steady increase of the rhythm of his heart and the catch in his lungs occur with vivid detail.

Then, it was suddenly gone. Two became one; one became lonely. The beat of his heart calmed, and his breath regulated. The pleasurable burn of Jaina's touch vanished as she withdrew her hand and the welder with it. She turned swiftly, putting her back to him once again, but Jag was sure he saw the same wild blaze in her eyes, accompanied by the blush of her stained cheeks as her face disappeared from sight.

Jaina tossed the welder up into the engine compartment. The precision of the throw and the resulting impossibly quiet landing led Jag to imagine that there was some Force-skill, possibly telekinesis, involved. He watched as Jaina swung her arms and bent her knees, springing toward the hatch with amazing power. She grabbed the rim of the opening and used the momentum of her jump to end propped with her hipbones flush to the opening's edge and her torso inside the hatch. Jag gazed in wonder, knowing there was no way he could make that jump, especially not without the degree of accuracy she exhibited.

Jaina shifted the weight on her hands and hips until she could lift the welder in her free right hand. The top half of her was swallowed by the darkness of the engine compartment. For a minute, Jag waited patiently as she adjusted her position several times in between attempts to start the welder. He remained quiet until he heard her mutter a curse.

"Do you need anything?"

Her voice resonated out of the compartment. "Yeah, another hand." He heard her huff. "I just can't get in the right position to operate the welder without falling over for lack of support."

"Can't you levitate or something?"

Jaina laughed twice. "Oh, so first we go from thinking Force-blind to thinking Jedi. Yeah, I suppose I could, but between welding blindly and levitating, I need to be a little more focused than I am. Go get Kyp if you want feats of masterful proportions tonight, Jag."

"Let me see what I can find." Jag furrowed his brows as Jaina wiggled and shifted overhead. His eyes scanned the area for any item that might remotely resemble a ladder or repulsor sled. His initial inspection revealed nothing, so Jag yelled back at Jaina. "I don't see anything. I will go look around."

"Wait. Don't bother. I have an idea." She was bent over so she could look at him as she spoke. "All I need is for you to support my legs.  That will free both my hands."

"Oh-o-kay." For the first time in his life, Jag stuttered.

Grinning back down out of the hole, Jaina replied, "Ready when you are." Then her toothy lop-sided smile, which lit up the universe, in Jag's estimation, when she decided to flash it, disappeared as Jaina contorted back around so she was once again facing the particulator.

Jag stared up at the form of Jaina's trim legs hanging down, his mouth agape with an utter sense of uncertainty. He managed to have the presence of mind to somehow get himself situated on the crate, his legs firmly planted for balance, but that proved only to increase his predicament for now he was so close to Jaina he could practically feel the heat from her. Or was it from him, he wondered.

"Uh, how do you want me to do this?"

"Just grab hold, flyboy."

Never one to disobey orders, Jag inhaled sharply and did just that. He flung his arms around Jaina's dangling legs in one swift motion. The act nearly took his breath away, then he realized he had simply stopped breathing as a bevy of sensations assaulted his unsuspecting nerve center. There was no way Jag would be able to hear Jaina talk to him over the roar of his beating heart filling his ears. A heat bloomed from some part deep inside that Jag had prided himself on controlling. Now with Jaina in his arms, all power he had over his body and mind fled in an instant. It was heaven, and it was hell.

Jag barely noticed Jaina's weight settle against him or the slight shifts in her position as she performed her task. What he did notice was the firm, defined muscles hidden beneath the loose fall of her jump suit. Oh what he would have given to just feel the silky lay of her skin over those muscles, to run his hands up, up…

Jag bit his lower lip, hard. It was enough of a distraction for the moment to draw his attention elsewhere, but even then the pain could not overcome the hunger haunting him below. It was as if merely the touch, the feel of Jaina finally in his arms, albeit not as he would have hoped, ignited nerve endings, sending signals coursing through his body, waking it up, calling it to attention.

A sharp kick or knee, he was not positive which, to his solar plexuses caused Jag to start. He heard Jaina's voice through the howl in his ears, although he was still blinded by the white haze before his eyes. "Hey, Jag. Did you hear me? I said you can let me go."

Jag dropped his arms immediately. If he thought the pain was unbearable before, it was excruciating now. Life permitting, Jag would have held Jaina for the rest of his life, or at least that is what his body wanted. There was no doubt in his mind that there was an attraction, at least physically, unlike anything he had ever felt before. He had found his way to women over the last couple of years, and on a limited basis, purely to fulfill a tiny need that required attention, some desire to belong or share, but only in a fleeting, self-fulfilling way.

The want he was confronting now was bottomless and seemingly unquenchable. Before, he could have walked away from a potential liaison without batting an eye and merely exercised mind over body. The satisfaction was not essential to his very being those other times. Here, now, his mind never had a chance to get in the fight. Jaina had conquered him completely without even knowing.

Suddenly, his vision returned, and she was there, falling before his eyes, landing on the crate not even inches from him. As her feet hit the crate and the impact rocked both of their balance points, Jag reached out. He could not help himself. Amazingly, Jaina grasped his forearms where his hands had shot to her waist for support.

Together, they stood there locked in a moment in time. It seemed to Jag that Jaina was as reluctant to pull away as he was. Her gaze had drifted upward at some point and his had drifted down. He felt himself drawn closer and closer, pulled like a magnet nearing another; the attraction only got stronger. Their eyes were locked in a silent conversation.

What do you want?

I want you.

How can that be?

I don't know, but the feeling is undeniable. Can't you feel it too?

I'm afraid.

I'm afraid.

This feels so right.

So right.

So green.

So brown.

So strong.

So beautiful.

Kiss me. Make all this go away.

"How does it look?" Jaina dropped her hands instantly as Jag spoke. Shavit, you fair-haired ninny. Loser boy. Why can't you for one second be like Dav. He would have kissed her and kissed her hard. Damn the consequences. She probably would have slapped him good for it, too. Why can't I be like Dav?

He missed Jaina's brief description of the repairs until the last couple of words. "…oh, and I tightened the casing. I always have my trusty hydrospanner in my pocket for just such occasions."

She tried to move her arm to pat her pocket. Doing so caused Jaina's arm to brush his hand still firmly implanted on her tiny waist. They looked down in unison; Jag snapped his hands away instantly.

"Uh, sorry," was all he could manage.

Strangely, Jaina peered back up with some confused expression. Her reply was less expressive than his. She simply nodded once, then gazed down at her feet. Without uttering a word, she stepped back off the crate and dropped silently to the ground. Jag followed, his eyes glued to Jaina as she neatly placed the welder back in its place among the assortment of tools, like she had some vivid recall of exactly how it had been before.

Slowly, she straightened, casting her brown eyes in his direction. They were guarded now, the openness gone. The silent connection that allowed the flow of emotions moments before shuttered again. "I hope that works out for you." She thrust a thumb over her shoulder. "I guess I had better go."

She was turning before Jag could even utter a goodbye, but he did not want her to leave. "Wasn't there a reason you came by?"

Jaina stopped in mid-step, her back to him. When she made the painfully slow pivot to face him, Jag noted some faint indecision in her expression. Only moments later, the determined Jaina Solo expression returned - the one that meant she had a purpose and meant to see it through, despite all else. Her shoulders straightened, and her chin rose proudly.

"Yes. Yes, I did. All this fun with your clawcraft almost made me forget." She took a step closer to Jag. "I wanted to ask your help in planning a mission. I think your tactical training and experience would be of great benefit. Your advice would be invaluable in my eyes, maybe even save countless lives by finding the cracks in my plan. I am not too proud to acknowledge my weaknesses, you know. It is important that this mission be a success."

"You want my help?" Jag tried not to seem dumbstruck by the admission. He was not sure he succeeded other than he kept his jaw from hitting the floor.

"Well, yes. You are by far the brightest tactical mind around. You have experience with the enemy. You understand the limitations of the pilots available." She was running down a checklist, like she had used these points in her own argument with herself. Finally, Jaina met his green eyes. She locked her stare to his. "Despite whatever impression I give off, I do value your opinion."

"So the admiration is mutual."

Jaina's mouth opened before she hesitated. She must have been mulling her next thought carefully. A slow smile, subtle but true, slid across her lips. "I suppose you could say that."

Jag fought a tiny grin that threatened to take over his lips, fueled by the blooming bud of hope opening up like a blossom exposed to the new dawn. There was a ray of possibility shining down in that simple admission. Whether her words meant more or less than he wished was another matter for another day. The step was in the right direction. Today was a good day for fixing things.