Unfortunately, this vignette is entirely darker than most of the others, but we are talking Elaine Cunningham's Dark Journey. Again actual dialogue (except for a few fill in the blank moments where the scene was a bit sketchy) belongs to the Mistress of Jaina's Dark Journey. The flashback is entirely of my own creation.
BREAKING FREE
Jag knew not how long he had rested face up on the rock-hard cot that served as his final resting place. He probably could have used the bounding pain in his aching bones and joints, heralded with every passing heartbeat, as some sort of measure, but what was the point of counting down to your own death.
At the simple thought, Jag rolled onto his side and hacked desperately for the effort. He clutched his punished ribs once, wondering if the touch might offer some relief. Wondering, not hoping – there was a distinct difference.
And that was precisely what had gotten Jag into this mess – hoping and not thinking – hoping Jaina Solo was the person he wanted her to be. He had, for the first time in his existence, followed the footsteps his heart had desired, turned his back on the ingrained logic and stoicism he had honed in his life on Csilla, only to find that his heart was an utter fool.
But how could that be true, he wondered. Had she not cried in his arms only days before? Wept for brothers lost? Shared with him the most intimate and raw emotions of two people left to suffer bravely when loved ones had passed on? Had all that been a lie?
"I just want to find a way to make it stop."
Those were the words she had uttered outside the palace gates. There must have been more to them than he was willing to admit. Perhaps, Jaina had cried not for her loss, but for the choices she had been forced to make. Desperation could drive people to do unimaginable things. Jag was so captivated by the seemingly innocent need of the moment, the great power he had felt holding her in his arms, being able to offer solace and release, that maybe he had forgotten to listen to the wisdom of others.
Despite the darkness, or maybe because of it, Jag squeezed his eyes shut and recalled in vivid detail the feeling of holding Jaina within the circle of his protective arms. Her fingers had dug into his shirt until they buried down to the skin. He had not realized until now exactly how much that had hurt at the time. Her body had quivered, unable to sustain itself, and Jag had practically supported her entire weight. She had not hesitated to take anything he offered, his embrace, his comforting words, his warmth and strength. She had greedily taken it all.
The sobs subsided no quicker than a lunar tide making its way back to sea, but finally there was nothing left save an occasional sniffle. His face was buried in her hair, his nostrils distracted by the delicate aroma of those dark tresses. His lips were so close to the skin of her forehead, it would have taken merely a simple thought to evoke the tenderest of kisses. His body practically quaked from the effort not to.
At some point, the blending of their bodies started to unravel, and he felt Jaina stiffen in his arms.
"I better get going," she stated abruptly while breaking the connection with his body.
The reality of her departure slammed him in the gut like falling into a Csilla ice pond. Until that moment, he never realized his body might need another simply to exist. He recognized that fact for a painful truth. It took every measure of restraint to take even one step back, to offer Jaina her freedom. "Of course. We have a long day tomorrow." He swallowed. "You need your rest."
She about-faced quicker than the blink of an eye and half ran, half walked across the cobbled street to the guarded entrance, only a snowball's throw from where they had shared each other's pain. The guard opened the gate swiftly, and she disappeared from view. After sealing Jaina safely inside the palace walls, the Hapan turned to regard him for a moment. The guard must have witnessed the exchange for a puzzled expression marked his face.
He nodded out of courtesy, then slipped off into the shadows, taking hurried steps along the pedestrian path that lined the thoroughfare. His body was still aching from the effort of holding Jaina in his arms and opening old wounds. If that had not been difficult enough, he had found the proximity, the closeness, to be an intoxicating drug. He was already addicted.
Not truly aware of his path or surroundings, the flash of red and green dropping from the sky startled him practically out of his skin. Years of practice kept that fact plainly hidden from his passionless face. He blinked, stepped back and regarded the object of his consternation, taking appraisal of the situation in less than a second.
Standing before him in skins and braided hair, Tenel Ka looked more like a dangerous huntress from a far-flung world than the Hapan princess she truly was. The glint in her eyes was one of a stalker assured of her imminent victory. Although he had given her no reason to suspect she had startled him, Tenel Ka clearly knew.
"What brings you so close to the palace, Colonel Fel?" she asked mockingly.
He reasoned she already knew. Sparing a brief glance overhead, he eyed the tree branches Tenel Ka had undoubtedly hidden among and spied on his whole exchange with Jaina. "I was escorting Jaina home after spending some time reviewing tomorrow's battle plans."
Tenel Ka's green eyes flared in admiration for his blunt honesty. He gathered from the sparkle that she respected such a simple courtesy above most others. "Is my friend in need of protection?"
"She is in need of a friend above all else."
The Jedi grinned. "This is a fact." She paused as if she was contemplating very carefully her next words. "So how is our mutual friend?"
"I think…I think she grieves more than anyone should ever have to," he offered.
"At least she has found some comfort," Tenel Ka retorted. The princess' change in tone toward Jaina struck him as odd and unsettling.
He felt obliged to continue with his observations. "Yet she seems to have found some balance in her work with the Trickster. In finding a way to defeat the enemy, Jaina has found some balm for her soul."
"Tell me, Jag, you do not worry that Jaina is consumed by her work?" she probed. Perhaps she was merely concerned he was on the right path.
"There is nothing wrong with total dedication to a cause or a job. In fact, I find it admirable, much more so than wallowing in self-pity." He stopped, confused by the strange mask that descended on the princess' face. "I would think a Jedi would expect no less from their own kind."
Tenel Ka waved her hand once in a dismissive gesture. Such acts were never taken lightly by the Jedi warrior, who was more prone to subtlety and understatement, so he gave it considerable weight. "Yes, that is true, but since our trip to Gallinore, I have had flashes, glimpses really…" Her voice trailed off, like she was trying to put a finger on something elusive. Finally, Tenel Ka shook her head once in disgust. "Something happened then, only now am I seeing the signs."
"Signs? What signs, Tenel Ka?"
Tenel Ka turned away from Jag and studied the intricate pattern of the cobblestones. "I may have come seeking your aid in reaching Jaina too late. She might have already crossed the line before our ever speaking. I believe, after much meditation and reflection, that something happened on Gallinore for which Jaina signed her soul away in blood to darkness itself…"
"No," he denied her claim vehemently. "I have been with her every day since our talk. I have seen no signs of a madness that consumes her…"
"Nor would you," she argued. "Jaina has taken Kyp Durron as her Master. She denied her own family to take up with a Jedi who only a couple of years ago she blasted as the scourge of our galaxy. These are not steps to be taken lightly. I believe she chose Master Durron for a reason, for his specific set of skills and his ability to do whatever is necessary. If she has crossed the line, you will only see the Jaina Solo she wants you to see – whatever it takes to achieve her objective."
"Surely, the Jedi would not keep Master Durron within their fold if he were as bad as you describe," he countered.
"This war, Jag, has forced the Jedi to abide by many things that they would not under normal circumstances. Kyp Durron serves a purpose; I believe for that reason alone Master Skywalker has not run him out. But the truth be told, Kyp serves only himself. The Jedi and the galaxy would be far better without the services of his kind, even if that includes Jaina."
"I must disagree with you respectfully, your Highness."
Tenel Ka smiled despite the gravity of their conversation, obviously noting the change in his formality even before he did. "So it has come to that, Colonel Fel. Well, you are a smart man. Trust your instincts; they will serve you well."
In the blink of an eye, the huntress of Dathomir, dressed in her skins and traditional hair decoration, leapt into the refuge of the trees, leaving him to his thoughts.
The rustling of feet and hushed voices brought Jag back to the bleak reality of his surroundings. If he had possessed the luxury of time, he might have pondered how it was Ta'a Chume had known exactly what Tenel Ka suspected, or the ramifications of those same suspicions. But circumstances would not allow him such freedoms; not that it really mattered in the scheme of things.
So despite the pain wracking every square inch of his body, he rolled up to a sitting position to meet the certain pallbearers of doom who would summon him out of this cell of darkness. If this was to be the end, Jag decided it would be better to go down fighting to the last. So, he gathered what fortitude he could from the depths of his battered body and felt the tension of anticipation quicken his pulse.
Instead of waiting for his foes to make an appearance, Jag slipped to the door. He kept his eyes shielded, giving them time to adjust to the light they had done without for many hours. Jag eased his head close enough to peek out into the hall through the small slatted opening. Avoiding direct light, he blinked several times, trying to size up the parts of one man just beyond the opening. Then, he heard the voice.
"Jag, are you all right?"
Jag brought his face into the harsh light beaming through the opening faster than he should have. The light was almost blinding, blazing past the tiny face framed in its portal in a dazzling display. She looked like an angel from the moons of Iego, or least as best he had imagined based on bedtime stories his father had told. She smiled, and the room became even brighter. Jag blinked while using his upheld hand to shield his suffering eyes. When he turned his head to the side, Jag noticed the other one, the man. He was to be rescued by Jaina, what a blessing that might have been, if Kyp Durron had not been at her side.
Then, a thought occurred to him. What if this was not the rescue? What if this was his doom? What hope did he have against two Jedi – one a Master?
Jag resigned himself to his death; he could not fight Jaina if he wanted. He locked down his emotions and fears, hiding them behind a shuttered, disinterested mask. He would give her no satisfaction from experiencing his pain.
Backing away, her smile faded, and Jaina glanced down quickly. Jag was suddenly surprised when she reached into her pocket and retrieved the small multi-tool she seemed to carry everywhere. With a few deft flicks she picked the complicated locks, and Jag came to the conclusion she and Master Durron were definitely a form of rescue. The look of concern marking Kyp's face when his eyes swept to Jaina told Jag all he needed to know. There was definitely a bond forming between the pair, to the exclusion of all others. Tenel Ka had offered her words of warning; not until it hit Jag like a stiffer punch than any of the earlier ones dealt his way that day did Jag accept those words at face value.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the halls. Kyp and Jaina glanced at each other, then looked to the ceiling. A tangle of pipes crossed it, some fifteen feet overhead. They both leapt, catching hold of the pipes and waiting.
Jag had the presence of mind to push the door shut. One of the locks clicked, and he hobbled back to the cot and unloaded his aching legs.
The pair of guards took several moments to figure out the locks. They actually had to unwittingly relock the door by backing the key in order to open the tumblers completely. When they entered, grumbling about the ancient locks in the palace, the two Jedi dropped silently from their perch. Hoping to distract the guards, Jag jumped from the cot, instantly regretting the decision as his body revolted from the abuse.
The move would have been unnecessary because the pair of Jedi felled their opponents with such swift precision Jag barely had time to blink before the Hapans were sprawled on the floor. Sadly, Jag expected the men to be dead; to his relief, they were not.
Jaina marched to him directly, her eyes taking in the abuse marked across his face. "You're hurt."
Jag withdrew as her fingers rose toward his battered cheek. "I'll live."
Like it lacked the will to support the weight, Jaina's arm plummeted upon his assertion. She addressed Kyp, "Can you do something? Even temporary?"
"It will have to be quick," Kyp stated after examining the guards, then stalked the distance to the cot. He raised a hand to Jag's shoulder. "This won't hurt."
Jag started to grab the Jedi's wrist when the first warm wave flushed over his body. "I don't need your Jedi magic…"
With alarming speed that reminded Jag of exactly who he was dealing with, Kyp's free hand grasped Jag's wrist in turn. "Can it, Colonel. Save your Chiss pride for later."
By the time Kyp finished talking, Jag's body had experienced an amazing rejuvenation, aches dulled to better than bearable, pounding pulses eased down to their subtle norm. The Jedi Master was spinning on his heel and marching out the cell's door before Jag came back to his senses. Like a simpleton, he marched after the dark-haired Jedi still figuring out how to tell him to take it all back.
As Kyp stalked out of the cell and into the brighter lights of the corridor, Jaina stepped over a downed guard, in a move to impose herself between Jag and the Jedi Master. She booted the prone man in between the shoulder blades for good measure when the Hapan stirred. Side by side, Jaina and Jag followed Kyp into the hall.
"How did you get yourself down here?" she demanded.
Jag blinked twice, perhaps from the audacity of the lights, but probably from the confusion still whirring in his mind. Did she know the truth? Or was she as ignorant of his predicament as she let on? Either way, he supposed reality would smack him in the face soon enough.
"After the battle, Shawnkyr took me aside and warned me that in implying that I would honor you as commander, I was putting my pilots in the service of Hapes' future queen. That I was taking sides in a coming coup." Well there it was. Jag laid it all out on the line and held his breath.
Jaina looked dismayed. "Your Chiss friend must have overheard some of Ta'a Chume's people talking about it."
The question still remained. Was the dismay from being found out, or genuine hurt at an unfounded accusation? Surprisingly, Jag had no qualms about twisting the knife to get the answer that he needed. "That is right. Congratulations, Lieutenant. Or would 'Your Majesty' be more appropriate?"
Kyp, who had been unassumingly listening while leading the way out of the palace depths, fell back between Jag and the one he interrogated. The Jedi rested a hand on the small of Jaina's back while glowering at Jag. "These days she prefers 'Trickster,'" Kyp offered nonchalantly, but the implied threat was not missed. "What's a queen, next to a Yuuzhan Vong goddess?"
Jaina shot a quick glare in Kyp's direction. "Don't help me. This queen business is ridiculous. It wasn't my idea."
It wasn't my idea. What did that mean? That she knew about Ta'a Chume's plan? Or something else? He aimed to find out.
"The queen's retainers were of the impression that you were another Ta'a Chume, an ambitious woman who would gladly seize this opportunity. They also spoke of eliminating obstacles, a job they were hired to do."
When he finished, Jag was not sure why he had truly chosen to press the matter, except for his own benefit or maybe to show the Jedi Master he could not be intimidated. Jaina had given him the answer he wanted after all. She claimed the pursuit of the crown was beneath her. In fact, the drawn appearance of her face indicated that the notion others would believe her capable of such power-mongering truly and deeply troubled her.
Surprisingly, Jaina stopped and seized his arm. "Does this have anything to do with my father?"
The fact that she had made the connection between the mention of the former queen's retainers and the reason he had truly sought out and found the man who had attacked Han Solo gave Jag cause to shudder. It was as if she had plucked the thoughts right out of his mind. His capture had been only because Jag had blindly sought to protect Jaina, even when she did not need or want his help. For that reason, Jag aimed his reply more to Kyp – the man who had earned the coveted role of her guardian – than to the fierce woman clutching his arm.
"That was my assumption, too. I sought out Han's assailants, ambassadors who went to negotiate a marriage alliance between Prince Isolder and Jaina. I feel certain that Han was not attacked so much as subdued."
"I know all this," Jaina interrupted, "but I don't understand why you were detained."
His lips firmed into a grim line after realizing she was still touching him, her slender fingers digging into his bruised forearm. He wanted Jaina to stop touching him, the reminder of his loss of trust and newfound love was too fresh. And he certainly was not going to admit he had been detained when he had beaten the truth out of a man in an unauthorized quest to ensure her safety. In an epiphany, Jag realized she had warped him into the same dark creature he feared she artfully concealed behind a tender exterior.
"I was stopped on my way to find and warn Tenel Ka," he said to both Jedi. Then, he turned and bore his gaze into Jaina's brown orbs. If she was unaware of the political ramifications of the beliefs circulating among Ta'a Chume's minions, Jag was going to make her painfully aware. "You're of legal age and don't require your parents' permission to marry Isolder, no one can stop you. Logically speaking what would be this obstacle be but Queen Mother Teneniel Djo?"
"Teneniel Djo," Jaina repeated, staring wide-eyed at him. By her shocked expression and her inability to refute his conclusion, Jag assumed she had gotten the message. Her hand fell away, and his traitorous body missed it instantly.
Without uttering another word, Jaina spun on her heel and fled down the palace halls. Kyp and Jag shared a look and a shrug before sprinting off in the same direction. Having lived in the palace for some time now, she was comfortable with the turns and twists. The two men struggled to keep pace, but their longer legs allowed them to catch Jaina just as they reached the royal apartments. Jag felt the strain of his battered body, but refused to back down, especially since the Jedi next to him showed no signs of slowing up. Kyp may have beaten him in the battle for Jaina's affections – a fight he was now happy to surrender – but a Chiss had his pride.
Blasting through the doors to the apartments, guards moved to stop them. Jaina threw out her arms, and bolts of blue lightning streaked from her fingertips. Both Hapans were struck, and the stench of scorched flesh met Jag's nose before their bodies hit the walls with heavy thuds. Jag was not sure if the overflow of electrical current atomizing ions in the air caused his hair to stand on end, or simply the sight of unadulterated fury reflecting in Jaina's eyes. Either way, her simple action instantly and decisively allowed Jag to finally break free from whatever spell Jaina Solo had cast over him. In that moment, he saw her simply as who she was – pain and anger wrapped in a beautiful package. Ugliness always found a way to show its true face, eventually.
Kyp snarled a reproach under his breath, "Jaina."
Never breaking stride, she glanced over her shoulder at the Jedi Master. Her eyes were pure black, not the caf-laced-with-brandy color Jag had thought he could drown in only a day before. "I'm sorry, Master," she answered unapologetically.
With a swipe of her hand, she blew apart the doors to Teneniel Djo's suite, the very place Tenel Ka had taken Jag that fateful day and had encouraged him to follow the treacherous path of his heart. Jag paused outside the door, feeling that perhaps he was at another crossroads in his life. Jaina barreled into the room, taking with her the dark energy that seemed to soak the air she displaced. Kyp drew up next to Jag and placed a hand on his shoulder. Jag was unsure of the Jedi Master's intentions and looked to him warily.
Perhaps Kyp sensed the trepidation squeezing Jag's heart, or perhaps he, too, feared the truth lying beyond those doors. Either way, there was nothing but sincerity in the Jedi's eyes when he spoke. "Your opinion matters to her, more than you could ever know. What you see now, this isn't Jaina."
"And you're telling me this, why?"
"Because she needs you to know that. And you need to know that," Kyp responded honestly.
Jag flapped his mouth open in disbelief, then shut it just as quickly. Truths were flashing before his eyes like quicksilver, and now he was not sure of which one to grab hold. Of course, he knew exactly the one his rebellious heart demanded, whether or not it made any sense. In an unusual display of agitation, he snorted and stalked into the room.
He was only two steps inside when he felt the cloak of death wrap around him in an unsettling blanket. He had tested the heavy mantle inside that dark cell only a short time before and he was familiar with the scent and feel – more familiar than he ever cared to be. In fact, Jag hoped death came to him swiftly at the appointed hour, not as a long drawn out suffocation. Such a fate evoked thoughts that the Corellian hells might be a worthier choice.
Turning his head, Jag peered into the same darkened alcove where Tenel Ka had introduced him to her mother. Even then, there had only been a shell housing a flame low on fuel. The cold permeating the suite hinted to the flame's extinguishing; one glance at Tenel Ka kneeling before her mother with a desperate grip on a lifeless hand confirmed that they had been too late.
"Poison," Tenel Ka murmured from the shadows. "They did not even give her the dignity of a final battle."
While Jag and Kyp remained at a respectful distance, Jaina crossed to her long-time friend and placed a hand on the regal shoulder. "We'll find whoever did this."
The Jedi princess lifted burning eyes to Jaina's face. "I will not have my mother's life dishonored by your vengeance."
Jaina's hand retracted, her fingers forming a clenched fist, and she stumbled back a step. "Is that what you think this is about?" Her voice lacked passion; it was tremulous and tentative. "Do you think I'm dishonoring Anakin? Jacen?"
Jag supposed by the anxious stance of everyone concerned, that an answer was warranted and fervently awaited. He felt his body rising up on its toes in anticipation. In a cruel twist of fate, an alarm sounded, rising in pitch and volume as it sang out the invasion alert. Tenel Ka gently placed her mother's limp hand back into the lap it had rested in death and stood. She ignored Jaina, perhaps resolving the question with her refusal to answer it, and held out one hand, fingers spread to display a large emerald ring. Then she abruptly clenched her fist, and a hologram leapt into the air.
A nebulous swirl of darkness and mists filled the air. The mists parted to reveal five large starships, and many smaller vessels spilling from them.
"Hapes' fleet, and my mother's legacy," Tenel Ka announced curtly. "Colonel Jag Fel, I place these ships under your command."
Jag, in a rare occurrence, was utterly thunderstruck. He could not speak. He could not think. He could not even breathe. In a surreal moment, the strangest occurrence broke him free from his petrification. Jaina looked from Tenel Ka, after she simply tipped her head, to him. Her eyes, once again brown as a warm cup of caf, drilled unblinkingly into his.
"You couldn't have made a wiser choice, my friend," she said with a sincerity he could or would not question. The faith in her eyes was undeniable. There was not time to question it; he could only believe it, to trust his instincts.
With his confidence restored, Jag snapped to attention and bestowed a proper bow to the daughter of Hapes' dead queen. "It will be my honor, your Highness."