*Part Two – Hidden Tears*


(Four Months Later)

And I wanna believe you,
When you tell me that it will be okay,
Ya I try to believe you...
But I don't.

~"Tomorrow" by Avril Lavigne


Jaina had a distinct desire to pop the insufferable man one but she settled for vowing to not speak for the rest of the session

"Miss Solo, answer me." Her "therapist" studied her and she used every single lesson about keeping a good sabacc face that her father had ever taught her to keep from giving the little twit a piece of her mind.

"Miss Solo, I asked you," he continued in his nauseating voice, "why do you keep so many pills? Are you contemplating suicide? Because if you are – "

"They're sleeping pills for Sith's sake!" she bellowed, breaking her oath of silence.

"Yes, yes, of course, but are you taking them in moderation?" he pressed.

Jaina threw her hands up in exasperation. "Look, banana brain, as much as I'd love to stick around and convince you of my mental well-being—which, by the way, is none of your business—I have more important things to do—such as painting my toenails and staring at the ceiling—that need to go before you. So if you'll excuse me?" She didn't wait for a reply but instead charged out of the room and into a wall.

*~*~*

Flashback

Jaina woke up slowly; first her hearing, then her sense of smell coming back to her. For an instant, she knew disorientation as she tried to figure out where she was. She was not sleeping on her queen-size, luxury bed—one of the perks of being a goddess—but on a cramped and lumpy sleep couch.

Then feeling began to come back to her feet—which were slightly chilled—then her arms—which felt like someone had placed a sun on top of her. Where in all of the nine Corellian underlevels am I? she wondered.

As if from a distance she heard soft murmurs of people doing their best to keep from waking her could be heard, with the occasional squeal from Syal and Myri. There was a delicious aroma of freshly-baked food and she felt distant jealousy. They had fresh food and they weren't sharing? I'm going to have to have a talk with whoever's cooking about that one, she thought with a wry pout.

She sighed and stretched out with the Force in attempt to recognize her surroundings. She froze as her memory of the night before came flooding back to her.

Her lip began to tremble but she forced it to steady. I will not cry. If Mom was able to watch Alderaan be blown up when she was eighteen without breaking up then I can survive this at twenty without crying. She rubbed her eyes in an attempt to remove any tears that might have begun to form.

"Jaina?" a voice said. "Are you awake?"

Jaina opened her eyes and shifted to see Wedge Antilles crouched by the sleep couch she was currently sprawled out on. "Yes, I'm awake." She sat up and stretched. "What's for breakfast?"

Wedge forced a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Breakfast? It's almost dinner time."

"Oh." She looked down at her hands and gnawed on her lip before looking back up at her hold-father, her face hardening. She could play his pretend-nothing's-wrong-and-we'll-be-more-comfortable game. But then again, hadn't she been the one to initiate it, if only in her mind? She shoved the offending thought aside. "But I'm hungry now," she pouted.

"I'll bet you are," Wedge said, relief clear in his voice. "You haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday."

"Actually," she corrected, "I had half a rations bar before—" Jaina's voice and resolve broke as against her will tears began to form and spilled down her cheeks.

Wedge felt a million times more awkward as Jaina began to cry. How do you comfort someone who has lost those that have always comforted her? he wondered. The most practical—and comfortable—course of action would be to get Iella who would certainly be better at comforting the clearly distraught young woman. However, Iella was on the other side of the base informing the New Republic and possibly even the Empire and Chiss, of the fall of the Jedi.

The second, and least savoury to Wedge's mind, was to comfort her himself. The "least savoury" because Wedge not only knew he would screw it up somehow, but because he had no idea how she would react.

The last option was to simply leave her alone but who knew what would happen if she was left alone? Suicide was not an unlikely option for her to choose. People used that option over things as small as failing an academic test. On the other hand, it could be exactly what she needed—a chance to grieve and pull herself together—and he was simply being paranoid.

Before he could decide, though, Jaina ran from the room and the decision was made for him.

Sithspit.

* * * * *

Tiran Lee-droy worked on his X-wing silently, the fact that the Jedi had been wiped out bothering him only slightly. It was a blow, of course. After all, the Jedi had always believed themselves to be invincible and the attitude was infectious, in some ways. Still, the Vong and PB had been planning it forever…why anyone would be shocked was beyond him.

"Maybe they're shocked because they didn't want it to happen," a muffled voice stated flatly. "After all, the Jedi were the main barrier between the Vong and the rest of the galaxy."

Tiran looked around in an attempt to find the owner of the voice and finally located a pair of flight-suited clad legs sticking out from another X-wing nearby. "Oh, please," he snorted loudly. "Do you actually believe that? The Jedi were arrogant magicians that sat around, spouting philosophy, in the middle of a war."

"The Jedi were the keepers of peace. They weren't arrogant, they were—"

"They were what? Constantly bickering like children? Fighting each other over philosophies instead of the Vong?"

As he said this, the woman he had been speaking to crawled out and now stood before him, grease smudged across her cheek, hair awry, eyes pained and angry, and hand on hip.

"No. Well, yes, but they also—"

"But they what?"

"Just because they had an enlightened understanding of the Force doesn't mean they weren't mortals." The woman glared at Tiran menacingly. "I mean, sheesh, they did their best to protect the galaxy. It's more than most people would do. And what did they get in return? The Peace Brigade and the hatred of billions of beings. The Vong destroyed their Academy; then the Peace Brigade also led the Vong straight to the Jedi hide-away for a bloodbath."

This girl's sith-spawned annoying! Tiran mentally grumbled. "The only person who believes that kind of bantha fodder anymore are the Jedi, and they're dead. Maybe the New Republic will actually stand a chance at winning this war now."

"A chance?" she echoed incredulously. "Do you honestly believe that?"

He shrugged. "Hey, the parlour tricks were interesting at first but occasionally things need to get more serious."

"The Force is not a parlor trick."

"The 'Force' died with the arrogant, sith-spawned Jedi."

"The Jedi weren't arrogant! They were humble, and enlightened, and honest, and—"

"You can't come around preaching the good news of the Jedi. They're dead and it's about bloody time. Just who do you think you are that you can barge in here and tell me what the Jedi were like? Jaina Solo?"

She gave him an annoyed look. "Last time I checked."

Tiran gave her a stern look. "All the Jedi are dead. I heard the announcement. I was there when General Antilles—"

"The Antilles have been 'protecting' me. The Vong were out for my head but now that they think I'm dead…"

"Are you saying the Jedi aren't all gone? How many more of you are being 'protected'?" he asked, surprised and angry. Can't those sith-spawned Jedi just stay dead?

Jaina closed her eyes for a moment in pain. I do not want to talk about this. Not to Wedge, Iella, any of my friends—not that I have any left but if any of them came back from the dead and if they did I'd be too speechless with joy to say anything, let alone talk about the hell I've been through—and definitely not a stranger.

But as it was, she had run from the Antilles' quarters to get away from concerned and well-meaning hold-parents straight into a nosy, just-wants-to-get-a-scoop-on-the-most-recent-gossip mechanic.

"No," she said sharply, wondering who died and made this kid an intelligence operative. "They're all dead. I'm the only one left."

Clearly suspicious, the man stared at her for a long moment, sizing her up. Finally he asked, "How can you be sure? Maybe some of them got away and—"

Jaina fought back another surge of tears. From being a kitten's ball of synthetic thread to being the prey of a Tattooine krayt dragon, she thought despairingly.

"Because," she answered as coldly as she could, "I felt them disappear from the Force."

"Oh." As an afterthought he said, "Sorry."

Does he means he's sorry he asked or he's sorry about my loss? She gave him a measuring look before realizing it was a nonsense phrase that he meant to be polite. "Yeah," she spat. "Me too."

He gave her a teacher-like look and said, "No need to be snippy—I didn't do anything."

"Oh no?"

"Why in the galaxy do you think you deserve to be snippy?" he demanded, finally giving up on his silent plea to any gods in the system that she would just get lost. What was wrong with her anyway?

"Oh gee," she snapped, her temper rising. "Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I just lost everything and everyone."

"Oh, of course," he retorted irritably and just as sarcastically. "Maybe I should call a galaxy-wide vacation so that you can get over yourself. Everyone's lost someone."

Jaina could only stare at him, aghast. Is he actually saying my grieving is selfish? she wondered dumbly. I lost my brother—for the second time in a year—my mother, Dad, all of my friends and pretty much anyone else that has ever come into my life and I get impatient at a nosy, insensitive jerk saying I need to get over myself?!

"Where do you get off?" she demanded angrily when she recovered from her shock. "How dare you start nosing around in my business, mocking my pain and the Jedi?"

He glared at her. "Look, Solo, I don't care about your 'pain.' I don't need to hear about how awful your life has been. Just because your princess-life has been altered doesn't mean—"

Jaina punched him as hard as she could and was slightly pleased to see his head whip around. Her pleasure grew as he fell to the floor. Not caring how Sith enjoying his pain is! she thought savagely.

"You're a sick jerk, you know that?" she hissed. "Pray that you never see me again because from now on I'll have my lightsaber and my blaster with me." She spun on her heel and stalked out of the ship bay.

Tiran rubbed his jaw as he watched her go, not bothering to pull himself off the hard durasteel floor. Well, he thought wryly, they weren't lying when they said the Jedi went through hard physical training. I can feel pieces of my jaw in my throat. If that was her punch when she's annoyed, what happens when she's mad…? He chuckled once, then winced in pain.

End of flashback

~*~*~

Jaina glared up at the offending human wall that had interrupted her regal exit from the therapist's office. "Watch where you're going," she snapped.

"So sorry, Princess," the man retorted.

Jaina snarled as she recognized the voice and face of Tiran Lee-droy, the mechanic who had so highly ticked her off that day four months ago. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, let's just say I'm not here for a mental check-up like some people," he threw back.

Jaina's temper reached its peak and it took all her Jedi training to keep Sith lightning from flowing through her fingertips. "Fine," she snapped. "Whatever. Just get out of my way and shut your trap." Seeing him open his mouth for another smart-mouth comment she thumped his chest sharply. "Not a word, Lee-droy." She shoved her way past him in the small corridor, stomping loudly in an effort to regain her godly exit, leaving an irritated Tiran behind her.

***

Wedge looked up at the sound of someone stomping through the quarters that the Antilles and Jaina shared. He glanced at his chrono and whistled admiringly. A whole twenty-seven minutes. It has to be a record. However, if Jaina had actually stayed that long with the therapist he doubted it had been to talk about her emotional issues. May as well comm Dr. Sunyo before he calls me, he thought glumly. I wonder if she made him cry again?

As had become habit since Wedge put his foot down and made Jaina go to see Dr. Sunyo for therapy, Jaina stormed into the living room and threw herself into a repulsor-comfort chair, glaring wrathfully at everything and anything. Wedge smirked and took a sip of his caf. He swallowed slowly, and then said wryly, "I take it your…'therapy'…did not go well?"

Jaina's expression turned from one of wrath to one of heated exasperation. "I don't know why you make me go to that idiot, Wedge. He hates me and I hate him. We spend three-fourths of our time just trying to find a weakness in the other that we can exploit. It's not therapy, it's academic school lunch hour with bullies."

"Only three-fourths? I'll have to give him a raise," he said mildly.

Jaina's eyes gleamed. "Well, the other fourth is the actual exploitation, threats and insults."

"Have you ever thought of not antagonizing and provoking him, Jaina?"

"What's the fun in that?" she asked flippantly. "If I didn't provoke him, he wouldn't antagonize me. And if he didn't antagonize me I wouldn't be able to drive you crazy with my complaining."

"Ah," Wedge said as if he had just had a revelation, "Of course, the old 'drive the general to the mental institution so that you can get his X-wing ploy."

"Exactly!" she exclaimed brightly, smacking her knee for emphasis. She gave him a roguish grin that did not reach her eyes. "How'd you know?"

For a moment Wedge saw so much of Han in Jaina that his heart stopped breathing. He pulled up his mental shields too late. Jaina, catching the direction his mind had gone in, introverted, her eyes and expression darkening.

The two lapsed into a tension-heavy silence, both lost in their own thoughts, their own memories of the Skywalker/Solo family. What is it with the descendents of Darth—Anakin Skywalker? Wedge wondered. Anakin Skywalker had been the end of the Old Republic Jedi. Anakin's daughter, Leia, was first a leader of the Rebellion, then Chief-of-State and the ambassador of the New Republic.

Anakin's son, Luke, was the redemption of Darth Vader, hero of the Rebellion and the New Republic a thousand times over, and leader of the Jedi Order. A job, he realized suddenly, that would fall to Luke's niece.

How ironic. Jaina's grandfather had been the end of the Jedi. Her uncle restarted the same Order, and then died and left the job to the only surviving Jedi—Jaina Solo, his niece, whom many said was like Anakin Skywalker before he turned.

"Jaina?"

The Jedi Knight looked up, startled out of her dark thoughts and erecting her mental shields in reflex before remembering once again that she would never have to worry about someone reading her mind again. Four months, she thought, should be long enough for the "Sword of the Jedi" to get over the loss of everyone she held dear. But it just hurts so much… She shook it off. Master Skywalker told me I would walk a lonely path. I just didn't know how lonely. I...

Again she shook her thoughts off. "Yes?" she said warily.

"Have you thought of what you're going to do now?" Wedge asked. "I mean, about the Jedi Order?"

Jaina felt as if she'd been sucker-punched. Was Wedge trying to cause her more pain? "In case you didn't notice, General Antilles," she said as coldly and emotionlessly as she could. "There is a war going on with any Force-sensitive—trained or otherwise—in the middle. To even think of training someone else as a Jedi would be the synonym of plotting murder."

"But the Vong think the Jedi are dead," the General argued. "And besides, the war's almost over."

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Even if the Vong are gone, there will still be billions of beings that hate the Jedi. I don't believe for a second that the Jedi—if I trained any—would be safe from persecution, even death."

"But—"

"Hello? I don't believe we've met. Silly me, I thought you were Wedge Antilles, not some greedy politician that believes the Jedi are an ends to a means."

"I never said they were," Wedge said cautiously. "I just think it would help you get over your…traumatic experiences."

"You expect me to get over my 'traumatic experience" just by training someone to be a Jedi?" she repeated incredulously. "For your information, I will never just 'get over it'! Losing everyone isn't like having a bad hair day, Wedge!"

"I know it's not, but it's been four months! You have to move on with your life!"

Jaina's hand came up and slapped him hard across the face before she realized what she was doing. For several long moments, the two stared at each other in shock, the silence deafening.

Jaina was the first to speak, her hand slightly covering her mouth. "I—I'm sorry—" her eyes wide with horror, she turned and fled.

***

Jaina found herself on the roof, watching the sunset as she often did when she was upset. Usually the vibrant then later soft, colors that displayed beautiful order and chaos at the same time soothed her. They told her that things might be in turmoil but eventually dawn would come, as it always did, bringing a fresh start.

This time, though, she waited and waited, and yet saw no sunrise, not in the sky or her future. In a galaxy that was torn by an ending—or was it just beginning?—war and with Force-sensitives hated by many, she was alone.

And still she did not cry.

~TJF