Kazzy – thanks! Yeah, er, it's Kyp that Jaina's most distraught over….*shifty eyes*

Jedi from Rohan – hm…okay, when I rewrite this I'll try to make it less all over the place. Lol, yeah, confusing stories are everywhere…maybe I read too many of them and they spilled into my writing… *shrugs* any predictions for this fic?

Ameri - *blushes* thank you! I'm not a huge fan of Kyp/Jaina either, actually…I'm almost inanely J/Z, but K/J suits my *cough* purposes in D.A.D, whereas J/Z doesn't work…in this one…for reasons I can't yet say :P Zekk wasn't mentioned because…well, Jaina doesn't want to talk about him. That'll be explained later, though; I promise he has a part in this melodrama ;) 'Does Garik have a thing for Jaina'…well: not to his knowledge, not yet, no—take your pick of answers.  There isn't a romance (other than the mentions of K/J) in this fic, there's more in the second one…and not really any in the third fic of this trilogy. This series is kind of my 'challenge' one, where I try to avoid the things I do in other fics – like write in a dozen romances :P But CoD (the companion trilogy to Phoenix) is another story.

___________________________

{Two Weeks Later}


Tiran cursed as the tool slipped, and a painful gash appeared on his arm. Blood spurted, and he groaned, stepping out of the ship's shadow and into the light.

"Looks painful," a familiar voice remarked. "But it's not that bad."

The mechanic scowled at Solo.  "Stalking me, are you, Princess? How many times do I have to dodge you in the halls before you get it?"

He had to hand it to her - the princess was keeping her Jedi control better than before. He could only see the angry glint in her eyes if he really looked. "So you did see me," she remarked through clenched teeth. "You know, generally, it's considered rude to walk away when you know someone wants to talk to you, but I'll excuse it this once."

"How magnanimous of you," he retorted sarcastically. "Why can't you just leave me alone? This is all your fault."

Apparently she understood what he meant by "this", because she hissed. "Oh, yes, Tiran, I've fallen so deeply in love with your ever-so-charming arrogance and bigotry that I manipulated your midi-chlorian count. In fact, I even gave you a percentage of my own so that you'd be extra Force sensitive, and I would have the pleasure of training you."

He glared; she rolled her eyes. "I don't want to be trained, so get lost," he snapped in exasperation. "Don't you have a late, murdering Jedi lover that you need to mourn?"

Her hand came up instinctively, and brought it down only with obvious effort. Her reply, however, made him long for the slap. "Don't you have a family to mope about? I'm sure they'd love to see the hateful, bitter person you've become - oh, and they'd adore the shrine you've built for them."

Tiran turned away to hide a grimace. "You don't know anything."

"Oh, please!" she retorted in exasperation. "I lost my family, friends - even a lover - and it wasn't all that unlike from what happened on Lin-Ta. The difference is that my family tends to be in the middle of all the struggles; you probably didn't even change jobs for the first two years of the war. Of course I understand; maybe - " She stopped, surprise evident on her face.

"What?" he asked gruffly, despite himself.

"Maybe that's why I was chosen to train you," she finished quietly, her forehead crinkling.

Tiran searched for something to distract himself, and found it. His wound was still trickling blood, and he looked for something to wrap it in. Jaina, remembering his abrasion, shook the cobwebs out of her head and reached out. "Here - I can heal it."

The Lin-Ta native pulled his arm away, but she gripped it firmly, and placed two fingers on it. For a moment, the scrape burned, and Tiran panicked, pulling it back viciously. She let him go, but when he looked for the sheen of a burn, he found only new, pink flesh.

"Force healing," Jaina said dryly. "It would have hurt less if you'd relaxed, and trusted me. Isn't that so like life?"

He scowled, but couldn't tear his eyes away from the smooth flesh that had - just moments ago - been torn and leaking scarlet.

"I've managed to convince my guardian that I'm not going to commit suicide," Jaina started, "so I'm moving back into my own rooms today. If you're interested in training as a Jedi, or if you ever see how stupid it is for you to not be trained…"

"I'm not promising anything," he muttered, finally looking at her.

She rolled her eyes in frustration, but continued. "What if we just met for…I don't know…dinner or something. I promise not to brainwash you - completely - if you promise to be a good boy, and not run away before I've finished."

"Just an explanation?" he demanded. She nodded, exasperated. His mouth twisted, as if the idea caused him physical pain, but he managed to reply. "Fine. Where?"

She smirked, enjoying his irritation. Unfortunately for her, it would be one of the last times she'd be able to distance herself from it, thanks to Master-Apprentice bonds. "Room 23 953 - on the West side. Say…Nineteen-hundred-hours?"

He blinked, confused. "When?"

She groaned. Oh, we'll just get along like two peas in a pod, you and I… "That's seven o'clock PM, civvie."

He flushed. "Well why don't you just use normal vocab?"

She scoffed. "This is a military base, doofus; it is 'normal vocab'. Look, just be there, okay? 23 953, on the West side. If you get confused, just contact Wedge."

By the time he realized that she meant General Antilles, the princess was already gone.

~*~*~

Jaina was surprised when Tiran showed up on time; saying he would was one thing - doing it suggested that he actually possessed some manners, despite his attitude. "I just have to bring out the food," she muttered as politely as she could.

He looked no more pleased with the forced cordiality that she. "I'm only here to talk - no Jedi lessons," he reminded her impatiently.

Jaina sent him a sharp glance, but decided he wasn't being mean. "Agreed. I'll be right back."

Unfortunately, both added silently.

~*~*~

In his gloomy rooms, the Dark man suddenly shot up in bed, his eyes wide - then increasingly red with fury. "What is he doing there?" he whined. "Master, why did you let him in? Is he going to takes you, Master?"

He shuddered and rocked - just like the world around him - as his insanity rushed forth. "Won't let him takes you, Master…don't worry, Master…"

~*~*~

"I can't believe you have a kitchen," Tiran said, unable to hide his disgust.

In the other room, Jaina rolled her eyes. "Wedge seems to be blaming himself for the Eclipse Massacre. This, apparently, is his way of making up."

"I lost a planet, and I don't have a suite," he retorted.

In her exasperation, Jaina bashed the empty pot against the stove a little harder than she needed to. "Then why don't you go ask him for one?" she asked sarcastically. "There are quite a few extra rooms now, since the war's ending. People are going home - those that still have a home, that is," she added quietly.

Tiran muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "spoiled rotten princess."

~*~*~

The Dark man's teeth gnashed, and his fingernails dug into the wood of his bed. "Stupid bad man…taking what's mine…mine! No," he muttered, eyes glinting malevolently. "My master, and I won't let you take her!"

~*~*~

Tiran was just letting himself admit that the smells coming from Solo's kitchen weren't actually that bad when It hit him.

His heart exploded in pain, and an invisible hand squeezed his lungs. He gasped, but only shuddered out of his seat, and crumpled to the floor. When he tried to call for aid - or even make a noise to catch Solo's attention - the torment grew worse, until he was writhing on the floor, his face twisted in agony.

Around him, objects zoomed and narrowly missed his head. He would have sworn that the floor moved beneath him. The curtains from the far side of the room broke off their rod, and flew across the room, trying to strangle him. Boxes that were lined against the wall began to move toward him in a whirlwind, knocking against him with the snapping pain of a whip.

All did so silently.

In his mind, he could hear insults, threats, and constant repetitions of "bad man thief!" Weak spots were exposed and taunted; memories were played over and over and over again…

"I'd say that I hope you like wampa meat, but I don't really care," Solo called from the kitchen, apparently oblivious to what was going on. "It's going to take a few more minutes though."

Was it just him, or did Solo sound…suspicious? Immediately, Tiran shut down the thought, trying to keep it away from…It. If there was even a chance…Solo was a Jedi, maybe she…he wasn't going to let It be distracted, even if it killed him.

C'mon Solo, please -

For once, I won't make a crack if you just…

Please - help…!

Jaina…

~*~*~

Had the situation been different, Jaina would have assumed that a Sith had just busted into her room and was performing some dastardly evil ritual.

As it was, she sprinkled extra pepper and hot spices into Tiran's dish, then fine-tuned her Force perception. "I'd say that I hope you like wampa meat, but I don't really care," she called out, forcing her voice to stay normal. "It's going to take a few more minutes though."

Faintly, she felt a smirk through the Force. Growling softly, she gripped her lightsaber tightly, then crept to the kitchen door. Behind her, she made the pots continue to rattle on their own. It divided her attention, but the evil was a necessary one, if there was an attacker.

Lee-droy, if this is some immature attempt to annoy me beyond belief, I will throw the Jedi code out the window, and take up my aunt's creed! she vowed silently.

When she rounded the corner, she began to thumb her lightsaber before the reality of the scene hit her.

There was no one there.

Tiran was having a seizure on the floor, and objects were flying around, but otherwise everything was perfectly normal in that the room was empty. After all, Tiran was inexperienced at controlling the Force. Something might have triggered an outburst. Except…

Jaina shivered and pulled her shielding around as closely as possible, trying to evade the ice of hatred that the scene was drowning in. However, when she poked Tiran with the Force, she felt only true struggle and fear. Someone was doing this to him - but why?

It doesn't matter, Solo; just help Tiran. You can get answers later!

She clipped her lightsaber back onto her belt, letting the pans drop behind her. Cautiously, she approached the Lin-Ta native. Deciding the conflict was an inward one, she sat down nearby and grabbed his flailing hand tightly. Her mind probed his, searching for conscious thought - something to grab onto.

She found very little, so continued on, not about to deprive Tiran of his defences. The Sword of the Jedi pushed on and found something even better - a sinister, ice cold noose, cutting into Tiran's very life force. Shuddering at the evil, Jaina nonetheless plunged in…down…far down, diving into noose's origin.

Barely pausing, she moulded her energy into a sword as she cut against the Dark persona's outreach. The Darkness was surprised - uncertain - lost - and she refused to think on it. The distraction proved to her advantage as - fwet - the destructive whip of Dark energy was cut and sent hurtling back into itself for harbour.

Disoriented, Jaina herself was sent flying backward, and her body struck the wall with a painful thwack, knocking the wind out of her. Two metres away, she could hear Tiran gasping from breath, almost shrieking in his desperation.

"Take - big breaths," Jaina forced out, wiping away the blood that trickled from her mouth. "A Dark attack isn't easy to get over."

She could tell he was trying, but Tiran's panic led him to hyperventilate, and he was losing air again. "Lee-droy, you're going to pass out if you don't just breathe!" she snapped, taking advantage of the Force's surrounding energy to crawl over to her apprentice.

His eyes rolled over to hers as he shuddered. "I - I can't…"

In a flash of comprehension, she used the Force to knock Tiran out. His subconscious had to take over. Sure enough, his breathing soon slowed and became deeper.

After a few moments, she had regained her strength and managed to drag Tiran onto the couch. "Well," she murmured to the sleeping man, "it looks like you don't have much of a choice on the Jedi thing."

~*~*~

Tiran was in a foul mood when he woke, but Jaina was quick to demand what had he expected, after being possessed by a Dark Jedi? Being too grumpy to admit that he wasn't familiar with the term "Dark Jedi", the mechanic spent the better part of an hour stewing over what had happened.

Finally, his temper began to cool, and his energy drained until he didn't protest when Jaina brought out some re-heated food. "So, you going to ask for an explanation yet?" the Jedi queried bluntly. "I can give you the 'Force for Dummies' version."

Maybe learning telekinesis wouldn't be such a bad thing, Tiran thought, noticing that no throw-able items were nearby.

His silent glare must have spoken for him, because she sat down on the opposite chair, taking a sip from her mug before explaining. "I suppose I should apologize for not warning you about the more…personal battles that can be fought, within a Force adept," she began, appearing sincere. "I'll try to keep this easy to understand, and stay in the pre-Vergere explanation area." She smirked. "I think only Jacen had time to fully understand that, anyway.

"The ability to tap into the Force is a powerful one, and with that comes great responsibility. We are not ordinary people; nine out of ten times we can come out of one-on-one combat victorious. That can be used for the galaxy's good, or personal profit – or evil."

She paused, considering something, and then continued. "Before some grey revelations about the Force from an annoying bird-like alien called Vergere, the Force was seen as possessing two sides: the Dark side – Sith or Dark Jedi – and the Light side – Jedi, of course. Fear, anger, hatred and untamed passion lead to the Dark side, whereas serenity, justice, the desire to do good and compassion are of the Light side. The Dark side is of course the easiest path, but the most destructive, not only to the galaxy, but to the soul."

Jaina's eyes darkened, and she shifted uncomfortably. "I can attest that from personal experience," she admitted. Seeing Tiran open his mouth, she continued. "I only tell you that because I want you to see right off that the Jedi do the best they can, but the battle with imperfection is never over. This war has shoved the Jedi either on or off a pedestal – there's no middle ground. Too many people put all their faith in us," Jaina said, her voice sad. "I suppose it was inevitable that it all came crashing down beyond any real hope of forgiveness."

She shook her head, coming out of her reflection with impatience. "Anyway, Force adepts that are not taught – or have only just begun their training – are more vulnerable to attacks from other Force users. You've heard of Kyp Durron, of course."

"Another of the Jedi's failures," Tiran muttered without real animosity. Jaina's explanation of something he had been fascinated with since childhood was like a drug; either that, or there was a reason the meat tasted so…er…different.

Jaina ignored his mumblings. "He's basically the best example of the possession thing as you're going to get. Kyp was too powerful for his inexperience and cockiness. He might have gotten away with it, but Yavin IV had some…interesting history, and the spirit of a Sith lord was able to possess Kyp."

"That's bantha dung," Tiran protested.

"Maybe," she replied, shrugging, "but it's true; you should know that as well as anyone."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I haven't destroyed any planets," Tiran growled.

"No, but just a few hours ago you were writhing on the floor, trying to kill yourself." She bit her lip. "Look, I've received some information that there is a…creature that has been monitoring me, for lack of better word."

"What does this have to do with me?" Tiran growled.

"It shouldn't have anything to do with you," she retorted, frustrated. "But this guy's weird." She hesitated, her cheeks tingeing pink. "I think he attacked because he knew I planned to train you – if you agreed, of course, Your Majesty," she added sarcastically, annoyed by his continuing attempts to state his prejudiced opinion.

"Well, aren't you such a coveted Jedi Master?" he mocked despite her words. "So why don't you train him, then?"

She leaned back in her seat, feet moving impatiently before they swung up onto the empty space on the couch. "You haven't listened to a word I've said, have you? I have no desire to train the next Palpatine; if anything, I have a duty to destroy him." She missed a beat with a frown. "Or her."

" 'Her'?" he queried, blinking.

"I think it's a male, though," Jaina argued, apparently with herself. She heaved a sigh. "Well, I suppose it's all the same on my conscience."

He stared at her. "Do you always have arguments with yourself?" he asked uncertainly.

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a look. "Normally, my reply would a wisecrack, but I suppose you've had a bad enough day. So…doesn't everyone? Carry conversations with themselves, I mean." She smirked knowingly at him.

His eyes bugged. How'd she know?!? "Well, it's pretty insane," he said, flustered.

Her eyes gleamed like those of an animal that had just caught its prey. "Indeed," she murmured.

He flailed, but found a subject that he hoped would distract her. "What was, uh, Vargear's theory? About the Force."

Jaina smiled evilly. "It's 'Vergere'," she intoned.

Why, he wondered, did that sound so ominous?

~TJF