Author's Note: It occurred to me that, seeing as Sanar's an OC, I should really give those that don't know her a little background info… Sanar Klis was introduced in my fic "Return of the Jedi" (no, I haven't posted it here yet, so don't bother checking). She comes from the planet Na'Lein'yhpaon, which takes male domination to the extreme. She managed to escape living under the bigotry for the first part of her life, but when her father died, Sanar's family was brought into one of the main cities. She's Force sensitive, but was only trained, for a short time, by Kyp Durron who, coincidentally, was the one who "murdered" her father by way of Carida. If you want more background on Kyp and Sanar's relationship, trying reading my vignette Out of Bounds (on JC).

Disclaimer: of course the song doesn't belong to me. Look at the bottom of the lyrics for title/singer.

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This is the window to my heart
I just want you to be free
There ain't no freedom where we are
Ain't no wishes in these stars
Ain't no reason to believe
But don't worry baby, don't you worry
Maybe this is what we need
A little bruising, a little bleeding
Some space that we can breathe in
Some silence in between
So cry for me baby and I'll cry for you
And we'll both break down and we'll both break through
We'll find our way and we'll face the truth
And we both will be stronger
And we'll lie down in our loneliness
And wake up with our sad regrets
And even though we don't know it yet
We both will be stronger
We both will be stronger
~Stronger, by Faith Hill




"You got any chocolate?" Jaina asked hopefully, trying to see into the bag Garik had brought when he visited her the next day.

He pulled it away playfully. "Sorry, they only had these lumpy, brown vegetables. I got them half price."

She scowled at him; her hand darted out and snatched the bag from his grip. It took only a moment for her to find the package of chocolate balls that he had bought. Quickly, she popped one into her mouth, lying back on the bed like a sunbathing tarai-lyon.

Garik watched her with a mixture of amusement and fondness. It was nice to know that her favourite treat had not changed. It had been a long time since he had last snuck her something not on the med-ward's 'acceptable food' list. Too long. "Try to save some of them, Solo. If you eat them slowly, they should last you your entire incarceration here."

She gave him a sweet smile, which told him exactly what she thought of not indulging in them all at once, took another chocolate ball, and held the bag out for him to take one. He declined. "How'd you find these, anyway?" she mumbled around the rich, milky chocolate. "I mean, you must have looked for hours. I doubt that keeping a quality chocolate factory up-and-running would be a priority during this war."

"It didn't take that long," he lied. "I know some people; besides, the war's almost over. A lot of things are starting up again that have been just a dream for the past five years. The Senate will be squabbling over marketing and power issues before you know it, and you'll have to find a second job. With any luck, we won't be needing as many fighter pilots."

Her brow furrowed. "I guess so." She paused for a long moment, then, in an almost-whisper, "They should have been here. The Jedi – everyone – fought for so long…lost so much…and they were wiped out a few months before the war's end." She made a small, choked sound, and swallowed the chocolate ball, a product of a day of searching, comm-ing, pleading and bargaining.

"But now…they're never going to see the galaxy right itself again…never going to wrap their arms around a loved one…never feel the rain whisper across their skin…never – eat chocolate…" She stared at the bag; her thick hair – allowed to grow out once more, now that she spent less time in the cockpit – hid her eyes from him.

Whatever he had expected the gift to inspire, it had not been that vulnerable, confused confession of what was swirling around in her mind. For a moment, the evidence of her returned trust robbed him of speech. A rush of tenderness flooded his senses and he reached out to brush away her hair. "Jaina…"

Her shining eyes met his for a moment, then she dropped the bag and threw her arms around him, burying her head in his shoulder. He was barely aware of the unpleasant scratch of Jaina's hospital gown on his skin as her tears spilled out in a flood. For a moment, Garik thought he saw a dark-haired man peek into the room, but when the diplomat looked back up again, there was no one there.

Garik was not sure how long he held Jaina, rocking her gently and murmuring comforting words, letting her release all the tears she had held back. He had no doubt they had been held back for too long – perhaps even six years. When she finally quieted, completely spent, and pulled back, her hair was mussed and her eyes bleary and red. "Thanks," she whispered, wiping her eyes. "I needed to get that out."

"Hey, that's what I'm here for."

She smiled a little at that. "Always there," she said softly. "What would I do without you, 'Rik?"

He forced a dry chuckle. "Keep this up and I'll be the leaky bucket."

She crawled back into her bed and pulled the covers up, then turned on her side so that she was looking up at him. Her eyes blinked a little drowsily as she watched him. "Do you believe dreams mean anything?" she asked finally.

"Depends on the dream."

"What if you dreamed that your supposedly dead, could-have-been lover visited you from some mad scientist's lab to tell you that he's alive and, oh, by the way, some psycho thinks you're its master is was willing to do anything to possess you?"

Garik blinked. "Um – " he hadn't said 'um' since he was eleven and Molay Diress had made a fist and asked him if he would like to kiss her – "who was the 'supposedly dead, could-have-been lover'?"

She smirked and he had the feeling she was regretting the loss of a holo to capture his reaction. "Kyp."

His eyes bulged. "Kyp Durron?"

Her eyes closed and her brow crinkled. "Do you know any other Kyp?" she asked sarcastically.

"I – I thought he was still hung up on Sanar," he stuttered.

"He was – but that's not the point. Do you think it could mean anything?"

"The dream? Oh, kriff, don't ask me this, Solo…" But her still-red eyes begged for his answer and he sighed. "I don't know…Kyp was – is? – a Jedi and a powerful one at that. If he loved you at all, he would have tried to warn you." He shrugged uneasily. "If anyone could make it work, it'd be him, I guess."

She looked thoughtful. "Sanar could probably do that sort of thing – she was really good with the more obscure branches of Force mastery – so maybe she taught him? But then again, it could have just been a figment of my subconscious. I have been thinking about him more, lately…"

He shook his head slowly, still a little stunned by the idea of Kyp and Jaina being (potential) lovers. Last I heard, she didn't even like him… "Well, you'll take it seriously either way, I hope. Even if there was no real meaning to the dream, you should be keeping your guard up."

She chuckled. "You haven't changed a bit since we were kids, you know? Still as over-protective as a mother Ewok."

"As if you're not enough to make a dodo bird paranoid," he said wryly.

"Up shut, you," she retorted, burying her head in the starched pillow.

He mock sighed. "The brutal truth is never taken gracefully."

Without looking up, she swatted him. "Why are you so mean to me?" she mumbled

He reached out to tickle her for that remark, but the weary way she shifted in the bed made him rethink that action. "Are you tired?" He didn't give her time to deny it. "I should be going anyway," he said, standing.

She didn't move.

He frowned. "Solo?"

Several seconds passed, then she shuddered and let out a quick sigh, as if she had been holding her breath. "Pardon?"

If Jaina Solo was slipping into the manners Princess Leia had taught her, there was definitely something wrong. "Are you alright?"

She moved onto her back and shifted up the bed so that she was slanted against the wall. She forced a smile. "Fine. I just felt a little – weird – for a moment."

He hesitated; if she was still unwell, perhaps he shouldn't leave. After all, last time…

"Oh stop worrying," she said a little peevishly. "I'm just a little tired. You may as well head back to Coruscant."

Slowly, he zippered his jacket, still indecisive. "Are you sure? I can stay if you want."

"I'm fine, Garik," she snapped. "Just go. Honestly, you're such a worry wart."

He stiffened and tipped his head shortly. "Milady."

He turned to leave but stopped when she caught his hand. "Wait! I'm sorry…I – someone – there was a ripple in the Force – a dark one – for a moment; I didn't have my shielding up all the way. This kind of thing always makes me cranky."

He wavered and she continued, attempting to lighten the tension. "I don't suppose you could get some more hours off next time, though? Maybe take a week off." Her grip tightened on his hand. "It's kinda lonely around here."

He rolled his eyes. "I need to switch my 'push-me' buttons," he said dryly, turning back to her.

She batted her eyelashes, but her smile was crooked. "Why would you want to do something like that?" She made a disappointed sound. "Do you really have to go?"

"Actually, I'm not really supposed to be here," he admitted sheepishly. "I kinda left in the middle of a Senate meeting recess."

She brightened and her lips curved in a wicked grin. "Garik Klamath, rule-enforcer extraordinaire, skipped a Senate meeting? Tut-tut – I think I'm rubbing off on you." Even as tired as she obviously was, the idea seemed to make her positively gleeful.

"Don't get used to it," he muttered, ruffling her hair a little with his hand.

She scrunched her nose at him. "Stop it; I'm not a little kid anymore."

He gave her a peculiar look. "I know that."

She looked up at him, hearing a resonance in his voice that she couldn't identify. But then he smirked, the same Garik she had known since childhood. He kissed her on the forehead quickly, asked her to stay safe one last time, and left, arms swinging as he walked.

She pulled the blanket up to her chin and curled on her side, a small smile forming on her lips. Still the same old Garik.

~*~*~

It took the med-unit - and Wedge - a week to realize that Jaina was okay to go, and the (im-)patient did not waste any time upon being let out. Despite her computer clumsiness, she convinced Wedge to let her into the military personnel database, in hopes of finding Tiran Lee-droy, the guy the Force had (cruelly) picked to be her apprentice.

Sometimes, being a Jedi really sucks, she grumbled without any real malice or self-pity.

It took the better part of a week (between drills, her renewed Jedi "training" and searches through the Force) to find Tiran. Other than the man's name and that of his home planet, Jaina had no information that could aid her. Apparently, "Tiran Lee-droy" was a common name. Although she had supposed that, in a galaxy with trillions of billions of beings, even her name - or that of Hobbie, or Wes - was used for others, the sight of a screen filled with almost a hundred "Tiran Lee-droy's" (or variants thereof) filled her with amazement. Not all had possessed photos, but those that did were quickly crossed off, as had the physical descriptions that didn't match that of Tiran (er…the one she was looking for, that was).

Finally, she had found the profile she wanted: Tiran Lee-droy, GFFA military mechanic, native of Lin-Ta. With her lightsaber clipped to her belt, Jaina set off to find the "stubborn, son-of-a-sith" the Force had decided she would train. Maybe, she mused darkly, I should make up my will…and Wedge would need to be filled in on the rites of a Jedi funeral, of course.

Despite her cynical expectations, the Solo daughter pushed onto the docking bay, where she hoped to find "her" apprentice. "Is Tiran here?" she asked one of the mechanics.

The olive-skinned woman pointed to the far side of the docking bay. "He's on his lunch break."

"Thanks." Jaina turned, aware that the mechanic had spotted her lightsaber, and was probably wondering what Tiran had done to make a Jedi come after him. The reaction was the same in each mechanic that she passed, but, after so many years, the Jedi was used to the attention a lightsaber could attract.

When Tiran saw Jaina marching towards him purposefully, he seriously considered making a run for it, but she grabbed him by the arm before he could move. "We need to talk," she muttered, dragging him to an unoccupied corner. "Don't bother struggling - it won't help, and you'll only attract unwanted attention."

Upon attaining a safe distance from the others, Tiran jerked out of her hold and crossed his arms argumentatively. "This is my lunch break; you'd better hurry up, Princess."

"It won't take long," she muttered, resting her hands on her hips in frustration. Already she could feel her temper rise, and she hadn't even gotten out her unfortunate news. Won't this be a fun partnership, she thought with a scowl. "You're Force-sensitive," she said point-black, not sure how else to put it.

Tiran's bulged and he literally choked. Perhaps, she mused a little evilly, he would have appreciated a little more diplomacy. "WHAT?" he finally demanded, his face become greyish.

She sighed and drew a hand through her hair. "Your midi-chlorian count is higher than average; you're too powerful - too attractive to the 'Vong, Peace Brigade, etcetera - for your own good; the Force is battering me like mad, telling me you need to be trained. Take your pick - any of them will do."

He took a step back. "But I can't be a Jedi," he protested stupidly. "I hate Jedi."

He talks about being a Jedi like it's a disease, Jaina thought, somewhat more than mildly offended. "Tell that to the 'Vong when they need a Jedi sacrifice," she sneered. "I'm sure they'll let you just walk right out of there - and the Peace Brigade will be able to tell the difference between you and me, or any of my dead Jedi comrades. Get a life, Lee-droy - or, better yet, get a brain. The galaxy doesn't care what you want; at this point, all they'll see is the way you get lucky at cards, or the way you just know where that missing part is - or how a tool just magically lifts off of the floor when you need it."

Seeing Tiran's stricken expression, she softened momentarily. It was quite likely that Tiran had noticed such occurrences, but eventually shrugged them off. It would be difficult to convince him. "It's tough, I know; but, practically speaking, it's the best thing for you. I'm certainly not going to have this grand advantage by training you - it's for you alone. The war's ending, sure, but unless every single 'Vong leaves or dies, and all the Jedi prejudice just disappears, Force-sensitives are going to need to defend themselves. The best way to do that is by being trained in an art that no one other than a Jedi - or a Sith, of course, but let's not get into that - can fully copy."

The conflict was there, on his face, for all the galaxy to see, but he wasn't aware of it. When she gently probed his mind with the Force, she felt echoes of pain - memories. "You're not dishonouring Lin-Ta if you accept," she murmured, reaching out to touch his shoulder

"Get out of my head!" he barked, backing away.

So it's back to the tough guy routine. She levelled her eyes on his. "Make me," she retorted. "Learn how to shield."

He stared at her, panic beginning to find purchase on his face. Then, to Jaina's surprise, Tiran turned and fled.

~*~*~

~TJF