EPILOGUE

Jagged Fel appraised himself in the tall mirror, and the man he saw there disconcerted him a bit. He couldn't remember the last time he had worn formal attire other than the black CEDF uniform that at times had almost been like a second skin. But that image of himself was one he would never see again. He had made his choice, and he did not regret it for a moment.

"It suits you," Shawnkyr said.

He nodded. The Corellian jacket hung perfectly off his broad shoulders, and the dark trousers bore the red bloodstripes he had earned in battle years before. "It will do."

From behind him, Jacen chuckled. "You sure about this, Jag?"

"I am."

"Positive?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely, undoubtedly certain?"

Laughing, Jag spun on him. "I thought you were supposed to be providing encouragement?"

"Yeah, well," Jacen replied, shrugging. "I've never been very good at doing what I'm supposed to."

"Neither is your sister," Shawnkyr added helpfully.

"She is about to become my wife." Jag raised a finger at his friend. "I will have none of that."

She crossed her arms defiantly. "Your final moments of freedom, and you use them to take away all my fun at your expense."

"You'll get over it."

Jacen patted him on the shoulder. "We'll miss you, Jag."

"Miss me?" He furrowed his brow. "No doubt you will see me far more often than before."

Shawnkyr patted his other shoulder. "Perhaps so. But today, the Jag we have come to know vanishes forever."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're marrying Jaina," Jacen said.

"From now on," Shawnkyr continued, "all independent thought is gone."

"Cut it out," Jag demanded. "Jaina is not like that."

"Oh, I imagine she will let you select your own garments from time to time," Shawnkyr said.

"Face it, Jag," Jacen said, chuckling. "My sister has you wrapped around her finger."

"Now wait just one –" Jag stopped, then laughed. "Perhaps she does."

"It won't be so bad," Jacen said. "After a year or two, you won't remember the difference."

Jag shook his head in dismay. "You two have lost your minds."

His friends exchanged glances, sharing an expression that might have seemed fitting on Jacen, but coming from Shawnkyr was truly foreign. They looked… giddy.

"I have a wedding to attend," Jag said. "Do you think you can manage to regain your sanity long enough to join me?"

"Probably," Jacen said, and waved him out.

Jag spared one last look in the mirror, then strode toward the door. He paused in front of it and took a slow, deep breath. For all their teasing, they were right about one thing. His life was never going to be the same. He waved open the door and stepped through.

He had only gone a few paces, though, when he realized he was alone. With a helpless chuckle he spun on his heel and walked back into the small waiting room.

Jacen and Shawnkyr were standing face to face. Her palm was on his chest; his hand cupped her jaw. Their eyes were locked in an intense gaze. Everything about their pose was just a little too close for mere friendship.

Jag cleared his throat.

"Sorry," Jacen said, motioning Shawnkyr toward the door. "We were just about to –"

"I bet," Jag said, spinning back into the corridor.

He walked through an open archway into the spectacular chamber of the ancient Chandrilan cathedral. A vaulted ceiling soared several stories above him. Sparkling light streamed in the stained-glass windows that marked brilliantly colored gaps in the stone walls. Before him the rows of wooden pews were packed with family and friends.

Jag walked slowly along the raised dais toward the Corellian holy man waiting patiently for him. All the while he let his eyes travel over the gathered celebrants, who were here to share in the happiest day of his life. The happiest day of Jaina's life too, he knew, a thought that inexplicably made his heart begin to race.

On his left sat his family. His father met his gaze and gave him the slightest of nods. His mother, clinging to his father as though her life depended on it, smiled her best holodrama star smile and wiped away her tears. Wyn beamed at him. To his sister's left were three empty chairs – for Chak, Davin, and Cherith. Directly behind his father, Shawnkyr slid into her seat. Next to her was Ambassador Chu'itha, accompanied by an unexpectedly large number of Nuruodo dignitaries from the CEDF and the diplomatic corps.

To his right Jaina's family smiled at him too. Leia held onto Han in a reflection of Jag's own parents. Jacen scooted in next to his mother, and rested a hand gently on her knee. Luke, Mara, and their son Ben shared the front row with the Solos. Behind them sat a remarkable assemblage of the galaxy's elite: Wedge and Iella Antilles; Tycho Celchu and Winter; Corran Horn and Mirax Terrik; Jedi Master Kyp Durron and Jedi Knights Tahiri Veila, Alema Rar, and Zekk. Even Tenel Ka, the Queen Mother of Hapes, had traveled to join them.

Jag reached the holy man's side. "I am ready."

"Very good," the elderly man said. "I was beginning to fear your bride was growing impatient."

"No doubt she was," Jag admitted, tipping his head.

The holy man whispered something to the air, and a moment later the sonorous tones of the traditional Alderaanian wedding processional echoed through the hall. Jag didn't know if the music came from hidden musicians, concealed projectors, or some trick of the Force, but it didn't matter. The song, the same one played at Jaina's mother's wedding over two decades before, was utterly enchanting.

The wide doors at the far end of the chamber swung open, and Jaina stepped through. Her gown shimmered in the light. Her brown hair, adorned with fresh white flowers, hung in luscious curls around her shoulders. Her face glowed with pure bliss. Her eyes twinkled. Striding slowly toward him, she was the perfect picture of beauty.

The sight of her took his breath away.

Halfway up the aisle dividing the guests, the tune changed to the customary Corellian marriage march, the same one from his parent's wedding so many years ago. Jaina met Jag's gaze and winked. She had chosen to honor both parts of her heritage, and in doing so honored his as well. Jag smiled back. She never ceased to amaze him with her thoughtfulness.

Finally Jaina reached the dais, and ascended with graceful elegance.

"Are you ready?" Jag asked.

"I am."

He leaned in close, whispering in her ear. "It is not too late to change your mind."

She kissed his cheek. "Not a chance, flyboy."

Jag stood straight and took her hand, and together they turned to face the holy man.

"Let us begin," the old man said.

Suddenly the room exploded with fire and noise. The main doors at the far end of the aisle blew inward with the furious inferno of a demolitions blast. The towering windows shattered under a rain of blaster bolts. With rifles firing, armored commandos charged through the flames in the open doorway and swung through the empty windows on rappelling lines.

Then the impossible got even worse.

A tall armored figure emerged through the smoky blaze and strode straight up the aisle. Iliana ripped off her helmet and grinned victoriously at Jag. An instant later her arm flew upward and she leveled a heavy blaster pistol right at –

Jag lunged, crashing into Jaina and hurling them both toward the floor. Without her lightsaber to repel the shimmering red laser bolts screaming past close enough to singe their hair, diving for cover was their best chance.

The wedding guests reacted, drawing concealed blasters and lightsabers. Like the heroes and trained warriors they were, the Fels and Chiss, Skywalkers and Solos and more, sprang into action against the intruders. As he and Jaina hit the ground, Iliana disappeared from Jag's line of sight in the confusion of the frantic melee.

But he was no longer watching her fire at them. His eyes were focused on Jaina.

She lay next to him, unmoving. Her eyes bulged, and she blinked repeatedly. Her hands rested at her sides, not even reaching for the charred hole gaping in the center of her chest. Her gaze met his and her mouth moved, but no words came out.

Jag scrambled to his knees and pulled Jaina to him. He cradled her in his lap and held her fiercely. Close up, the blaster wound in her chest looked even worse. "You'll be all right."

Her eyes fluttered shut, then opened again. "I'm sorry."

"Shhh," he whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from her beautiful face. "Save your strength."

All around them the cacophony of combat raged. The ringing retorts of blaster fire. The thrumming whines of lightsabers. The thumps and growls of fisticuffs. Barked orders and hollered signals. Grunts of effort. Cries of pain. The familiar sounds of battle – and death. It was everywhere around them, but Jag barely heard it.

She tried to reach up to touch his face too, but the best she could manage was clutching his hand in hers. "Jag… I'm… sorry."

"Don't give up, Jaina," he pleaded, leaning closer.

"It… hurts," she rasped.

"You're not going to die," he said. Her eyes drifted shut once more. Gently he shook her face with their intertwined hands, and her eyelids lifted. "You're not going to die!"

"Oh, Jag…"

"Stay with me, Jaina!"

"Jag, I…" she gasped, followed by a haunting, horrific hollow moan. "I… love you."

"No!" he cried, but it was too late.

Jaina's eyes closed, and her head slumped against his arm. A final shuddering breath passed her lips before her petite form hung limply in his arms. Jag stared in disbelief at the lifeless body of his one true love. Through the deafening din of battle, the truth struck him in the gut with an overwhelming power he could not deny.

Jaina was dead.

Jag lifted his face to the heavens and bellowed with all the agony of his empty soul.

"Nooooooooooooooooooo!"

THE END

A/N – Unless you are a person who enjoys rotten endings, this epilogue is really a joke. When DarthLex and I posted this story on TFN I was supposed to be on a cruise the week the last post was planned. I didn't really want to miss it, so Lex conceived this Fake Epilogue. For a happily ever after ending read on…