Author's Note: I uploaded two chapters at a time again, so if you don't know what "Glipta" is, you might want to go back one chapter ;)

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Chapter Sixteen: "It Will Be Okay"

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Jaina's head ached, and that, more than her guilt, made her walk away from the argument. She would just have to try to patch things up (again) in the evening. They'd have to work together to organize their tiny living quarters, but it could wait a few more hours.

Rubbing the top sides of her forehead, she grabbed her rolled up bed pallet and walked to the stream she had seen earlier. Setting the pallet down on the blue grass, Jaina took a deep breath, letting the Force flood her senses.

Her headache was growing, and the world twirled around her. She sat down on the makeshift bed, but, when the stream and the trees continued to move, she lay down. Her feet trailed off the pallet, but she didn't change position. I'll move them in a minute, she decided, closing her eyes against the too-bright colours of her surroundings. The stream's music grew until it sounded more like a river's roar, and she winced.

I'll get up in a minute, she promised as fog nestled around her mind. Just a…just…

-

She was in a cockpit; how, she didn't know. It didn't matter, anyway. Facing her – in the pilot's seat – was a relaxed (but with his composure carefully maintained) man. Something about him was vaguely familiar, but she forgot to figure it out when the ship rocked.

Eyes sharpening with alertness and battle instincts, the pilot immediately threw his ship into manoeuvres as it was yanked out of hyperspace.

She remained stationary.

When the pilot twirled off to the left, her eyes saw deactivated holos rattle in an attachable cloth pocket.

The ship rocked and alarm made the pilot's eyes bright. His hands flew over the control panel in preparation for landing. Jaina started, having not realized that they were so close to a planet. The ship shook again, more violently. The pilot's arm muscles jumped and flexed, his entire body appearing tight as he strained to come down in a survivable landing.

She knew, at the same time he did, that it was too late. Regret glared from his eyes, with realization as its kindling. "I'm sorry," he murmured, the faintest glimmer of defeat in his pale green eyes. "I'm sorry."

Her limbs sludged like molasses, but she managed to turn around in time to see boulders and huge, jungle trees race into the viewport…

-

The Force shrieked, bringing Jaina out of her sleep, and then it silenced. Her closed eyes kept the tears at bay. Why? she wondered when she had managed to pull herself out of the haze that followed her dream (or was it a vision?). Why show me that?

Her waking mind offered the name of the pilot – Colonel Jagged Fel of the Chiss. What little she remembered of him came rushing to the fore. He had lost a brother. His arrogance and schoolmaster solemnity had been almost oppressive.

He clung to the past. He crashed alone, never telling others he cared. Will you do the same?

The words made Jaina physically start, almost guiltily. An image of a dark-haired, green eyed Jedi rose in her mind.

The voice continued. It's too late to save the lost. You are the Sword; your destiny begins when you join your Edge.

That broke the mood – "her Edge"? An image of her apprentice agreed with the words. Her mind swirled at the thought, but managed a hesitant question: What should I do? How do I…?

The voice was silent, and Jaina hurtled into concrete reality. Apparently, the voice didn't want to explain. She was a little disgusted with it, for that.

Trembling, she got to her feet and, ignoring her sleeping pad, she wobbled back to the tent she shared with Tiran. He was gone, and although it wasn't a surprise (who just sat around on their first mission?) she found herself disappointed.

The tent was only barely set up, so Jaina sat on the ground, sighing, and grabbed her bag. She'd made the mistake of telling Garik that she wasn't sleeping well; the consequence was that he continued to hover like a mother bird. At the moment, however, she needed to see a friendly face.

As she'd expected (hoped), her com-link blinked with a message. Grinning softly despite her earlier vision (or was it only a dream?), Jaina activated the message, and Garik's voice tinned in the tent:

"Hey, Solo. I don't have long – it's only a recess – but I thought I'd check up on you. I braved my mother's doctor to find a potential remedy for your insomnia. He suggested drinking warm milk – " Jaina could almost hear Garik grimace, "and meditating before you sleep. I realize it is basic, but considering your inability to think when outside of fighting, I thought it might be best to repeat this.

"My own advice, however, is that you face your demons, Solo." Garik paused, and Jaina heard muttering in the background. "It seems my wisdom is once again needed to protect the galaxy – and the Jedi, of course. Please call me when you are able; my leave begins next week, so use my private, mobile line.

"Try to avoid kidnapping and death, dear one," Garik hurried, "It would be most inconvenient if I had to negotiate your ransom, or find someone to bring you back to life."

A click sounded leaving Jaina, resigned to her fate. Face your demons.

Why couldn't it be face the future? Isn't that scary enough?

Despite her protests, she began to pack a bag.

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Tiran wasn't quite sure what had happened in the past few hours; Jaina's vague mutterings and abrupt departure did nothing to clear things up. The only thing that had stuck thus far was that the princess, his master, had just raced off on an unknown expedition, leaving him rather clueless. Despite her assurances that she would be back within a day, panic was beginning to set in. Hurried explanations had been scribbled on a datapad, including her com-link number but stress clouded his eyes.

What just happened? he wondered, looking around the tent blankly. And what am I supposed to do now? He'd help the refugees, supposedly, but to whom should he report? Jaina had also mentioned negotiating and soothing tempers – but how the kriff was he supposed to do that?

Where'd she go?

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To step off the launch pad took all of Jaina's willpower and then some. Even then she trembled slightly, like a piece of flimsi in the wind. Her sienna eyes scanned the desolate landscape nervously, and memories flooded her.

Myrkr.

Her demons' home – or, at least, their headquarters.

Barely aware of anything save the dead's cries, she handed a traffic guard some credits to watch her ship. Her feet began moving, almost without her permission, out of the landing area. The path to the destroyed cloning facility, although the reverse of the one she'd travelled three years ago, was ingrained deep in her mind.

Jaina had heard that the blackened complex had been, ironically, changed into a memorial building for the Strike Team members. She had never gone to see it; in fact Jaina was quite sure that, of the survivors, only "Queen Mother" Tenel Ka had – but she had been the one to initiate its creation.

The thought only reminded Jaina that, of that hopeful, determined group, only she remained. Stupid, she berated herself mentally. Don't think about it. This is confrontation-of-emotion, not detach-yourself-with-statistics.

Then stop right here and face the oldest problem, said a voice (not the one from earlier, but nevertheless familiar), and Jaina realized she was in a clearing.

Her mind froze momentarily before she stifled the rebuke and ran from the glade. She'd say goodbye to him later. Garik might think that kicking the root of the problem was the best way, but she intended to do a great deal of emotional gardening before she went back six years.

Barely organized ruin rose up in front of her, dragging her thoughts into the present. Her boots clapped against the stone, then quieted as she stopped.

I can't do this.

You have to.

It's so hard to let go…

We know. Go.

She stumbled along, as if someone had pushed her from behind. She kept her eyes on the ground, watching the dust and leaves rustle as she strode toward the centre of the building. Just take it one step at a time. You can do this.

All too soon, she reached the centre of the building. Dreading it, her head tipped back to take in the whole chiselled scene. Tenel Ka had spared no expense in its creation, and artists and sculptors had created a heroic tribute to the fall of several young Jedi, and the ones they had left behind.

Setting her jaw, the survivor stepped in front of Anakin's image. He was off to the side, alone and defiant, going out in a blaze. Just over his shoulder, a faint design of Tahiri's face watched.

Tahiri Veila.

I understood you, Jaina thought bitterly. Better than you ever dreamed.

It had never been talked about, the reason Jaina changed so much before the war; at first, it was because Jaina refused to speak about it. The reasons had changed – to pity, first, and then to busyness and inability to explain away the death. They had said they were being understanding, but in actuality no one had known what to say when Zekk disappeared.

Jaina, for her part, had clung to the hope that he was still alive, long after she should have. Like Tahiri, she hadn't wanted to give up on her first love – hadn't wanted to admit that he was gone. In the end, she'd forced the truth down her throat and thrown herself into the war. She put away the holos, the dreams and the nightmares; she adopted everyone's tactic: she refused to mention it, even in her thoughts.

I should have told Tahiri.

Something gasped and shrieked, and it was a moment before Jaina realized that it was her making that noise. I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry…

Her fingernails dug into the carved folds of Anakin's tunic as she fell against the wall. Tears slid in torrents until there was nothing left, and she stepped back, dry.

Anakin stood over her, sure in his path.

-----

There she was – an easy target. Vaguely, the man was surprised that it had been so easy. They had said it would be difficult, after all, and they had never spared him the foretelling. They liked to make him dread the future.

But perhaps there was still a spark of humanity in them, and they wanted him to appreciate a break…?

It will be okay.

He aimed and shot the dart. She started, then fell – just as planned.

It will be okay.

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bwahahah! Cliffies, specially made, just for you ;P Let me know what you think!

-TJF