PERFECT STRANGERS: PART XII
A tremendous battle of dark and light raged just outside the clinic. Luke and Tristan parried and jabbed at each other until both grew exhausted. The mud puddles were becoming deeper and slimier and Tristan was beginning to regret the length of her thick brown mane.
Luke however, was in a much better place. An excellent combatant under pressure, he put on quite a show for his wife and students. He was much stronger than Tristan remembered and had quickly gained the upper hand.
As his power drove Tristan further into the forest, she began to recognize the path they were on. She realized that though she had not been to Yavin in years, she knew every curve of the path behind her and even the placement of the trees. In her fatigue, she tried not to become distracted, but the familiarity of her surroundings was frighteningly surreal, and she began to lose her concentration. Deeper into the forest, she could see more buildings; cabins, the mess hall, the clinic.
Suddenly, a loud clap of thunder sounded and lightning illuminated the forest. Luke and Tristan both jumped, startled by the volume of the storm.
But nothing could compare to the sobering moment when Tristan realized she was in the midsts of her dreams, or rather, her nightmares. The forest, the lightning, the rain, everything was the same.
But the stronger power-- the ultimate distraction that always caused her to lose the fight and be cut down by the green lightning-- which had to be Luke's saber-- where was it? And if she knew it was coming, could she not avoid it? Her mind raced. Would it be him? The light Force? Or something greater that she could not anticipate? Just then, another low rumble of thunder sounded and distant lightning flickered over the clinic. As the thunder grew louder, Tristan became distracted just long enough to catch a glimpse of her estranged fighter pilot in the clinic window, on the floor and only paces away from Jaina Solo.
"What?" Jaina asked incredulously, in a low whisper.
"I betrayed you, Jaina. I hurt you. I almost killed you..." He lowered his arms and raised his eyes to hers. "I can't live with that."
Jaina stared at Brock's crumbled form. He was completely vulnerable. No weapons, no strength, he wasn't even wearing a shirt, since she had torn it off of him two days before.
"Why should I kill you?" she asked shakily, taking the saber from her belt.
Brock shook his head. "Aside from the obvious... you—you were all I had, Jaina." he mumbled. "You were the best thing that could have happened to me. If I've lost you-- I've lost everything."
Jaina's heart wrenched as she turned her lightsaber over in her hand.
"Brock, I've already watched you die," she mumbled, stumbling over her words. "I've been staring at you dead on that table for days. I watched another part of you die when you realized what you did to me. It almost hurt more than the first time -- and get off the floor. I'm not gonna kill you."
Brock stared up at her in disbelief.
"Get up." she demanded again. He did so slowly, and though she was calm, the physical barrier between them was so strong that Brock could feel it, and chose not to advance toward her. Jaina was silent, anxious, gathering her thoughts. She swallowed hard and used every ounce of strength she had to maintain her composure. She knew it wouldn't last long.
"Brock--" she began slowly. "You came into my life so unexpectedly. I know we've fought and misunderstood each other—but I can honestly say I have never experienced anything as frightening as being attacked by a man I thought I was falling for. I can't believe--" her voice cracked and she fell silent for a moment. She recovered somewhat and looked at him again. His heart crumbled, breaking all over again with every word she spoke.
"I just—I don't know what to do, Brock. I missed you so much over the past month— all I could think about was being with you-- and now everything's changed. I've never even felt uncomfortable around you—but now, I'm almost afraid of you! I feel like I don't know you at all. And I mean, you don't even remember—what you-- what you—"
Her voice cracked again, and this time when she tried to regain it, she lost it entirely. She turned her back to him and trembled with silent sobs. Brock couldn't stand it. Disregarding the invisible wall between them, he stumbled over to embrace her.
"Jaina." he whispered. "Jaina, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I would never, ever hurt you on purpose." Jaina shook her head, unable to speak and fell limp in his arms, burying her face in his chest for a long moment. Stroking her hair, her whispered, "Gods, I don't even know what else to say." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm so sorry."
It felt so good to be against him that Jaina almost forgot herself. But she pushed him away abruptly.
"I'm sorry too, Brock," she sniffed, forcing away her brokenness and letting her angry disappointment shine through. "Because I really don't know how this can work anymore. I don't know how to forgive you." She turned away, swiping tears from her eyes and walking toward the couch.
Brock felt like he'd been shot.
"Of course you don't." he mumbled, clenching his fist, furious at his inability to redeem himself. "Hell, why should you? Why should anybody?" He picked up the nearest thing, which happened to be the datapad on the end of his bed, and hurled it across the clinic. Jaina jumped as it smashed against the wall on the other side. She had half a mind to reprimand him, but before she could speak, Brock collapsed to his knees on the floor.
"I wish I had some answers, Jaina." he moaned, fatigued by his physical and emotional exhaustion. "I wish I could fix everything, but-- I don't even know how I got here, or what possessed me to--" he cut his sentence off, as it was too awful to speak of. He glanced up at Jaina's body, observing the dark bruises on her neck and arms and the look in her eyes. The wounds would heal, but her dark memories of him would never be forgotten. Overwhelmed, he crumbled under the weight of evil that could not be undone.
Jaina stood idle at first, watching him weep bitterly, unsure of what to do. But almost immediately, something inside of her began to hurt for him. Despite everything that had happened, there was an innocence about him. Something about his tone and actions made her sympathetic. She knew the attack had been premeditated, but she also knew that he'd had nothing to do with it. She also knew that the assault had been drug-induced-- but the image of Brock racing toward her with that dagger was forever etched in her memory. To see that same face, now drowning in remorse for his actions, was strange and unbelievable.
Even so, she cautiously moved toward him and stroked his hair. He was bawling silently. Tears sprang to Jaina's eyes as well.
"Oh, Brock..."
Sensing her touch, he rose slightly and clung to her, cautiously at first, but then with all the intensity of a frightened child, his face buried in her abdomen. Jaina held him there a moment, feeling his pain and deep despair. Her tears fell on his tousled hair. "Get up," she finally urged him. "Please get up."
Brock slowly got to his feet. He swiped the moisture from his face hastily and then noticed Jaina's tears. "Oh gods, c'mere, babe." he whispered softly, brushing hers away.
While Brock thought nothing of it, Jaina glanced up at him, surprised and flattered at the pet name.
"I'm sorry," he whispered again, stroking her face. The strength had returned to his voice. "I didn't mean to break down like that."
"I can't stand you crying," she whispered back.
"I apologize. I won't make you cry anymore."
Jaina gazed up into Brock's brilliant green eyes. She was still a little afraid, but she felt surprisingly comforted by his touch. She'd missed him so badly, but she didn't quite know how to verbally forgive him and start over.
She didn't have to time to think about it either, because Brock interrupted her thoughts with his voice.
"Jaina--" he began, a bit anxiously. "I-I know that this isn't going to be enough, and I also know that there's a good chance you'll reject me, but-- I'm sorry. I am completely, eternally, sorry, and I beg your forgiveness with all of my being."
Jaina was silent, unsure of how to respond. Some part of her clung to skepticism, but keeping her distance felt so wrong. He needed her forgiveness—and she needed him.
"I believe that you're sorry," she finally answered shakily. "And I want to forgive you-- but how can I trust you?"
Brock's eyebrows raised a bit in disbelief. He hadn't expected her to be so willing so quickly. Nonetheless, he gathered himself and spoke again, the quiver in his voice slowly fading.
"Listen Jaina,-- the only reason I came here in the first place is because I couldn't sit around on Coruscant any longer wondering whether or not you know how I really feel about you. My original plan was to come here and not leave until I'd told you everything--"
"That sounds good to me." She interrupted.
Brock paused and ran a hand through his hair. Then taking a deep breath, he took both of Jaina's hands in his own.
"The truth is this, Jaina-- I would take my own life-- before I ever thought to make another attempt on yours."
"Brock, you don't--"
"No listen," he paused, squeezing her fingers. "Being around you makes me better. I've never felt more alive than I have in the minutes I've spent with you. Even roaring through deep space in the height of battle fails to give me the kind of high I get from being in your presence for ten minutes. You are my spark, Jaina. I need you."
Jaina felt every beat of her heart magnified and fierce electricity coursed through her body in every point of contact she'd had with Brock. He touched her face and pushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear. Every trace of sorrow and defeat had disappeared from his voice.
"Look, I know I'm nothing. I know I'm not rich, not noble and probably not anything else your family imagined you spending time with. I'm just a roughneck starpilot… a regular guy who accidentally let his guard down and started falling for the most intriguingly beautiful girl in the galaxy."
Jaina's heart fluttered.
He paused and sighed, shaking his head with desperate honesty. "I don't just want your forgiveness, Jaina. I want you. I want to see you every day and be your escort to boring parties. I want to dance with you and race fighters with you. Gods, I want to hold your hand in public and kiss you! And—"
"Then what are you waiting for?"
Brock's brain to a moment to catch up, but after a very short, contemplative pause, he realized that he didn't have an answer to her question. Without thinking about it for another second, he grabbed Jaina around the waist with his right arm, pulled her against him and met her lips in a fierce kiss.
Jaina had never been more pleased about making a rash decision. Her decision to destroy Brock's tunic days earlier was now paying off exponentially. Her hands slid down from his face over his chest, where she could feel his heart racing. His muscles tensed as her fingertips tickled his stomach and relaxed as she slid her hands back up over his arms and through the short hair at the back of his neck. He was extremely well-built, and now that she was in his embrace, she wondered how she'd kept away from his lips for so long.
Brock was didn't realize what a vast amount of tension could build up over four months, but to release it all in about four minutes was exhausting. Jaina's kiss was electric and the feel of her toned body and soft skin beneath his fingertips was driving him slowly out of his mind. Everything about this woman was seemingly perfect; every smooth line and curve of her face and body was more phenomenal than he'd imagined and the feeling of her against him was more spectacular than any fantasy he had ever entertained. He cherished the sweetness of her lips, the silk of her skin, and the soft, and every breath of oxygen he shared with her. He traced his fingers over her shoulders and let his hands drift down to the edge of weapon belt at the small of her back. He had desired her for so long, and now that he could feel how badly she wanted him in return, he could hardly pause to breathe.
As he gently and momentarily released her, she looked up into his sparkling eyes. He sighed and pulled her close against his chest.
"Was it as you imagined, my lady?" he growled, brushing her earlobe with his lips.
Jaina shivered. "It was alright." She barely glimpsed his indignant face as she added. "But you know, practice makes perfect…"
Jaina could've melted as his charming grin became a second fiery kiss. He was so gentle and deliberate; Jaina could hardly believe that the man who had tried to stab her a few days ago was now letting his lips drift over all of the bruises on her neck. His body was strong, but his touch was sweet and soft, as if he thought she might break. She felt the need to reassure him that she was not nearly so fragile. She slipped her fingers through his two front belt loops and pulled him toward the couch by the window. Taking her hint, and fighting a giddy smile, Brock followed her down onto the couch.
END PART TWELVE