This is a missing scene as implied by Jag's conversation with Kyp and Jaina when rescued. This is my vision of how Jag got that puss on his face when Jaina walked into that cell to rescue him - hoping he would be as happy to see her and she was to see him.

[Author's Note:  Thanks to Darth_Lex for filling in for my usual beta Zara_Rose on this post.]


MISINFORMATION


Voices. So many voices. And so loud. Can't they keep it down? Every word is like a detonator blast in my head.

"Put him in the cell over there."

"What do you think she wants with him?"

"That one's a power-hungry she-witch. Maybe she wants the pleasure of offing him herself."

Thud. Pain flared through his body from impacting with the cold duracrete floor. Air rushed from frail lungs in a whoosh of air.

"You never know with those types…"

Grey to black. And silence, but no peace. Definitely no peace.

"Do you want something to drink? Some caf maybe?"

She looked up from rubbing her neck, probably sore from the hours they had spent hashing out her plan. Some insane urge willed his hand to reach up and take over where her fingers had just left off. She smiled wearily in genuine gratitude.

"No, thank you. I probably should grab Lowie and head back to the Palace. I've left him tinkering on the Trickster and imposed on you for far too long."

"It was no problem. I am glad you found some of my suggestions worthy of implementing," he replied.

Pushing away her chair, she rose and quietly scrutinized the office. Her eyes stopped at the weathered couch against the far wall. He frowned, realizing the blanket still was splayed across the back from when he had tossed it aside following an all too brief nap. Her brown eyes found their way back to meet his green gaze.

"Is this where you sleep?"

"Sometimes. It's not the palace, but it affords timely replies to the ever-increasing alarms. By the time I get across the city to my assigned quarters I often find myself turning around to head right back here."

She lowered her eyes and kicked her boot tip on floor. "The palace isn't all it's cracked up to be, you know. Sometimes I would prefer just to sleep in the Trickster."

"Well, at least you know it has a shower."

He held his breath anxiously, unsure of how she would take the remark. To his relief, tiny lines formed around her down-turned eyes and a slight curl graced the corner of her mouth. When she looked back up, he pondered how a simple smile could change everything.

Black to grey. And even a hint of color.

"He's still out?"

"Seems to be."

"Get him up. I've got a thing or two to teach him."

"She's coming soon to question him, so make it fast."

Two hands hoisted him up, his body helpless to respond. He hung in between the strong grips, suspended in air like bait to trap a wampa. There was a fuzzy blur below, maybe dark booted feet on the light duracrete floor. Blinking slowly did little to resolve the problem, not that it really mattered - there was not much to see. His neck lacked the will to support his one-ton head and all the determination in the galaxy could not muster enough strength to make it do otherwise.

"Hey." The words were accompanied by a slap to his cheek. "Wake up, you egomaniacal blueblood."

Pinching claws yanked the chin off his chest. He could just make out the faint outline of a face, but not enough to make a connection. Although he was not sure his brain had the wherewithal to do so even if he could force his eyes to focus.

"So where are your Chiss brothers now, Colonel? Not so tough any more, are you?"

He recognized the voice, and a sinking feeling weighted his stomach. He had a very bad feeling about what was to come.

The fingers jerked his head side to side. "Pretty enough face. The nose is definitely in better shape than mine, no thanks to you."

"Hey, don't mess him up too bad. I don't want to have to go explaining to Her Majesty why the prisoner can't talk."

"I won't hurt him too bad…" Jag's head plummeted, and he had enough foresight to tighten his stomach muscles before a fist made contact. "…just make him pay..."

The rest faded with his dimming mind, disappearing deeper into the void with each blow.

He was shaking.

Someone was shaking him. "Wake up. I'm not through with you…"

He would have liked to oblige but oblivion was so much sweeter.

Rap. Rap. Rap.

Sitting at his desk, he lifted his head to the sound. Dark brown curls escaping out of a high-set tail framed a heart-shaped face that peeked through the open office door. When he met her brown-eyed gaze, she stepped completely into the threshold.

"Hey, I came by to make sure you were ready for tomorrow."

He could not help but smile at her petite frame revealed in stunning clarity in the form-fitting navy workout attire. The small halter top left most of her midriff exposed, and the equally tight shorts showed more leg than should have been legally allowed. He must have grinned a little too big, because she crossed her arms self-consciously.

Recovering quickly, he ripped his stare away to watch his hands rifle through the datacards on his desk. "Yes, I will have my squadron briefed and waiting at the hangar a half hour before the designated departure time."

He found the datacard he was looking for and snatched it into his hand while grabbing a datapad with the other. Rising, he deposited the datacard into the device, then rounded the desk. "I have a couple last minute modifications suggested by…" He hesitated to tell her who exactly had made the suggestions and was unsure of exactly why. "Um…my final review. You can take them or leave them."

She uncrossed her arms and accepted the datapad. Their eyes locked into a stare as their fingers shared the same piece of the datapad. The moment was quickly lost as she swiped the device away and withdrew a step. Her eyes scanned the display, and he took the time to study her.

She was glistening with sweat, and there was the pleasant scent of hard work on her, mixed with a touch of a familiar fragrance. His mother wore a similar perfume, but he could not put a finger on the exact one. Bumps raised on her skin where the chill of the office air touched it. Throughout his examination she seemed intent on her study, but the second he stepped closer to point out a key item in the pre-mission report, she moved away as if they were participating in a carefully choreographed dance.

"You would probably rather not. I just rushed over from sparring with Lowie. It was getting late so I didn't have a chance to…"

Undeterred, he took another step closer as he interrupted. "There is no shame in hard work."

"There's shame when your sweaty attire offends even the most indiscriminating of noses." This time she did not back away, not that she could. There was nowhere left to go with the wall closing her in on one side and him on the other.

He ignored her and pointed to the display. "I think this change is critical. I hope you will consider it."

She raised her eyes to meet his stare. They were so close he could feel the heat coming off her in waves. He was so hot he wanted to plunge into the cool dark pools that were her eyes and then drown in them. She blinked, and the spell broke for a moment.

"They're all good suggestions. I'll implement every one of them."

He inhaled deeply. "Corellian roses."

She sucked her head back in confusion. "What?"

"Corellian roses. You smell like Corellian roses."

A blush bloomed on her cheeks and the spell was recast. "Uh…yes. I suppose I do."

An atrocious smell that could wake the dead wafted into his nose and startled his senses. Black faded to grey and then brightened like a sunrise into a sea of colors.

"Corellian roses?" one of the voices asked.

"Maybe you should go easy on him, big guy. He's getting delusional."

He blinked his eyes rapidly as the odor jolted his mind into reality like a dip into a pond covered over with ice. It was the startling scent of Barcarian Claw salts. His oppressors were bringing him back for more.

"The Sithscum wasn't so easy on me when he tried to beat that information out of me a couple of hours ago." There was a pause, then approaching footsteps. "Come to think of it, the colonel here was pretty agitated when I mentioned that pretty young tusk-cat the Queen Mother has been grooming."

Those words were enough to marshal a sudden urge of will exerted over matter. He lifted his head to leer at the bruised and battered face of the Hapan guard he had pummeled earlier. A sinister grin rested on the tall guard's face.

"Look; he's come back for more," the Hapan taunted while stalking across the floor.

The pain searing through his chest from earlier abuses caused stinging breaths even at the thought of replying, but he was sure the hateful gleam in his eyes would suffice. The Hapan shifted his gaze to the unseen companions on either side and executed a curt nod. The supporting hands disappeared and he fell to the floor, his knees hitting first, then his hands catching the brunt of his weight. Overhead, the Hapan prowled around him in slow, sure steps.

"So it seems the colonel here thinks he is going to rescue the Jedi princess from the clutches of our power hungry Royal Highness, just like he saved her daddy that day. Little does Mister Chiss realize that his princess has been playing him like a fool, all sweet and innocent on the outside and conniving and manipulative on the inside."

"I've heard tale that she keeps audience with Ta'a Chume on a regular basis," a scratchy voice to the left offered.

He tried to shut out their innuendoes, squeezing his eyes and rocking back to rest his haunches on his feet. He knew better than to give their jibes merit.

"Oh, it's true. And it seems the Solo girl has been heeding her advice. Did you see them both dressed in red at the state dinner the other night? She is so ambitious that she was already trying to look the part of the Queen." This time it was the tall man's turn.

Despite his efforts, the words made it past his weak barriers, twisting like a vibroblade. He tried to breathe, to regain some purchase, but the pain deep inside was unbearable. Instinctively, he clutched his chest.

Off to the right, the third captor decided to throw in his two creds worth of slander. "You can say that again. I heard it was the girl who weeded out Trisdin for the traitor he was. It was on her word alone that he was executed. For one so young, the Sithspawned vixen is making short work of eliminating any and all obstacles in her path. Wouldn't you agree?"

Lies. All lies. One foot found its way to rest flat on solid ground.

The tall Hapan, the one he had beaten earlier, bent over so his words had less distance to travel and perhaps deliver an even heftier blow. "And she is meeting with Ta'a Chume as we speak. Probably trying to decide what we should do with our little problem here. Maybe the Jedi witch will enjoy skewering the colonel herself. It has been said that the Jedi mission to Myrkr has made her quite mad with grief, that she has become an avenging demon with one purpose alone…"

The rest was lost. He had felt the terrible rage building inside until it fueled his body with enough strength to leap forward and tackle the legs of his unseen torturer. With his hands, he punished the tall Hapan for every terrible word spoken, for every lie, for every hurt. He did not know how many blows were landed, but he was tireless in the assault. That was until the sudden and lancinating pain burst across the back of his head and spread like a wildfire, ending in a bright hot light behind his eyes.

White reversed to black.

"You really didn't need to escort me back to the palace," she looked over with some strangely endearing blush to her cheeks. "I mean, I am a Jedi. I can take care of myself."

"I have seen you in action, and I am sure you can. Still, I am sure that excuse would not fly with my mother, and I fear her wrath more than anything in this galaxy, so it was nice that you humored me." The blush grew, and with it her beauty, even with the failing tail of long hair and tired rings under her eyes. "Besides, it gave us more of a chance to talk about tomorrow."

She averted her gaze and walked silently for a moment beside him. "The entrance is just around the bend." She gestured ahead with the flick of her slender finger. "I can make it the rest of the way safely, I'm sure."

He ignored her and continued his steady gait. "You're half Corellian; you must understand the basic tenets of chivalry. It wouldn't be proper."

"So why tonight of all nights did you decide to be chivalrous?" she asked with a coy tilt of her chin and a sideways glance from her large dark eyes.

"Usually you have that Wookiee friend of yours stop by. I am sure he walks you back. That is just their way." Her mouth flapped once before slamming shut with no suitable response. His guess had been right. "Besides, what would your father say if I abandoned his daughter here?"

"Good riddance," she replied with sincere disdain, then seemingly lost her will to keep him squirming after spotting the shattered look on his face. She giggled despite herself. "He'd tell you no Imperial space jockey is good enough for his baby girl." Now her blossoming laugh was contagious, and he had to stifle a grin. "Then he would sic Chewie on you, with Jace and Anakin right on his hee…"

The silence was deafening. Knowing her pain all too well, he turned away his eyes, noting one hand swipe at a tear, and left her to grieve privately. Only their matching footsteps echoed across the cobbled thoroughfare - until hers faltered. He drew his feet together, then turned slowly to face her.

For once she did not even try to hide the sorrow. It poured forth from every fiber of her being in little wracks of her body, silent tremors of bottomless sadness. His heart nearly burst at the sight as her arms crossed in a fierce embrace like they were trying to keep her from literally falling apart.

"They're all gone," she whispered. "There's no one left."

He stepped closer, then reached out tentatively with a finger to wipe away a tear caught on her cheek. The touch was fleeting, and she did not withdraw. In fact, she turned her head into his finger and shut her eyes. His fingers continued on until his whole palm cupped her cheek. There were not words he could have said to take away the pain, but the shimmer in his eyes must have told her that he understood her loss for her petite hand stretched out to rest over his heart.

"It hurts right there," she offered between quiet hiccoughs.

He nodded.

"I just want to find a way to make it stop."

The tears intensified to the concentration of an afternoon downpour as her fingers closed on his shirt, desperately clawing for some hope. When the first plaintive sob erupted from her quivering lips, Jag did the only thing he could and pulled the quaking frame into his arms to cry right along with her.

In the darkness, tears wet his cheeks from the indescribable hurt drumming throughout his body. There was just no way to make it stop. He could not even bear the thought of taking another breath the ache was so overwhelming.

"Did you fools kill him?" The voice was cold and calculating as only a female could be.

"No. He's Corellian. They don't ever handle stun blasts well."

Breath came despite his best efforts. Death seemed such a promising alternative. The sudden intake brought a violent response from his tortured ribs, and his body spasmed in protest.

"Good. He is coming around. Bring him to me," the woman said.

Hands gripped his arms and powered his flight across the floor. As black sharpened to muted tones, he watched the hazy imperfections of the duracrete whiz past with some ambiguous interest. Once they stopped, a set of sharp nails dug into chin and hoisted his head so he was looking forward. Inspecting him like an item at the market, Ta'a Chume offered no approval in her gaze.

"It's a shame you managed to stick your nose where it does not belong, Colonel."

All he could do was stare right back into her cold eyes. She was the one instrumental in Jaina's tribulations. He could see the wicked glint and malicious intent simmering like Fire crystals just below the surface of those beady eyes. As if the former Queen knew he could see straight into her black heart through those portals to her soul, she squinted to conceal their depths.

"Leave us." She nodded to the lackeys at either side of him.

"But Your Highness…"

"Leave us! Now!"

He was dumped unceremoniously onto a nearby cot before the two pairs of shuffling feet faded into silence. As Ta'a Chume made her way over to perch on a seat of her own, he struggled to improve his posture and meet this nemesis with all his faculties in place. The pain made it nearly impossible, and he managed no better than a slouch.

She studied him coldly for a few heartbeats. "It will be a shame to lose a fine warrior such as you, Colonel. And so senselessly I might add."

"You won't get away with this."

Ta'a Chume laughed. "Spoken with true bravado to the last, but may I remind you it not I who is trapped inside the dungeons of the palace."

"My second will realize I am missing; there will be questions to be answered…"

"And even more so if I let you walk out of here. You know that as well. If your Chiss friend sticks her nose where it doesn't belong then she will meet the same fate as you." Her eyes dashed from side to side in their bloodthirsty madness.

He knew then Ta'a Chume would stop at nothing to regain the throne. He was as expendable as Teneniel Djo, maybe more so. "Your plan won't work. She won't take the throne."

"Who? Jaina Solo?" He would have reached up and crushed the winning smile from her face if he could have. "That is where you are so wrong." Ta'a Chume donned a condescending façade to go with her sickly tone. "All you see is a pretty face, but I know the heart underneath. Jaina Solo is not the woman you imagine her to be."

"She will never follow you on your power mongering quest," he spat.

"Ah, but she already has. She already has. Just tonight we shared our dreams and aspirations. In fact, she laughed when we spoke of her father's attack. There are no lines Jaina Solo will not cross; she has no morals to speak of anymore. She has tasted true power and will demand more and more in her vendetta to make her enemy pay. Gallinore proved that."

Ta'a Chume paused for effect, studying her prey. "Did you know she erased the minds of her Wookiee companion and Tenel Ka? My own granddaughter does not remember the true devious nature of their excursion. How exactly do you think Jaina managed to devise those Yuuzhan Vong implants, hmm? Well I do. I helped her arrange the whole trip, provided the shuttle and access. She used Gallinore's secret laboratories where no method is too harsh or extreme, no act too inhumane. Then Jaina wiped all knowledge from the minds of her friends with the help of her Jedi lover."

He felt a sickening urge rise from the depths of his bowels as though the former Queen herself had delivered a gut shot. Could it be true? he wondered. Could Jaina have done these things? Could she blatantly strip her friends' minds? Was she finding comfort in Kyp Durron's arms?

The Queen must have sensed her victory, because she leaned in for the killing blow. "Does that thought bother you, Colonel? Did you have designs of courting Jaina Solo on your own?" When he tried to look away, a set of steely fingertips clawed his jaw, forcing him to meet her calculating gaze. "You poor Force-blind fool, you would never have been more than a passing distraction for the Jedi girl. Master Durron, I assure you, will have his way with that fine specimen if he already hasn't. Why else do you think he traipses after her silly whims than for a chance at claiming her prize?"

Summoning all his strength, he ripped his face away, her nails leaving scratches in their wake.

Her next breath spewed forth in a cackle. "She will use Hapes just as I will use her. Jaina will marry my pitiful son; perhaps bear him a daughter more worthy than his current Jedi brat before I find it necessary to dispose of her. With any luck Tenel Ka will be the one to strike the Jedi princess down, or vice versa. Either way, it is a perfect plan."

He tasted his own defeat, but refused to surrender. "The Chiss have a saying about the admiral who believes his plan is unflawed – the obvious flaw then is the admiral's hubris. You will fail." He steeled his green eyes in her direction.

Ta'a Chume curled the corner of her mouth in a predatory grin. "Ah yes. Thrawn's lesson learned. How profound."

The former Queen rose, aligning her regal frame to cast a shadow upon his battered body. "Believe what you like, Colonel. In the end, you will be dead." She spun in a swirl of weighty shimmersilk to sachet out the small room's door. Without a backward glance, she addressed the captors. "Kill the colonel in the morning. Give him time to relish in the thought of his own fruitless and inglorious death."

The door slammed shut, and Jag was immersed in darkness.