Jaina visited her brother for a couple of hours after her parents left, then found an excuse to make herself scarce because she could tell he hadn't been getting much sleep. She slipped him a loaded, greasy wrapper on her way out, advising he eat quickly before Cilghal returned. Anakin consumed the fast-food gorba wrap in ten seconds before tossing her the wrapper and humming rather satisfied noises to himself. Of course, she'd neglected to pick up dinner for herself, but Kyp had predicted that much and met her at her quarters with some spicy Corellian takeout.
Jaina nibbled at her nerf wrap and her soup mindlessly, letting each bite slip past her lips with little consciousness of the spicy flavors. Kyp watched her eat— one habit of his that nearly irritated her if only because she couldn't figure out what he found so enjoyable or attractive about her taking less than dainty bites out of a greasy sandwich. He balanced a Corellian burrito in one hand, both elbows propped on the table while he watched her intently. She allowed him the satisfaction of acknowledging his stare and finally looked up from her food to glare back. "Mom used to flick me and my brothers' elbows whenever we leaned against the dinner table."
To her further annoyance, he grinned. "I didn't know you cared about proper dining room etiquette."
"I've been to a royal banquet held by Hapan royalty; I have standards."
"Shame." Kyp set down his burrito and licked the sauce off a finger. "I knew those stuffy Hapans would corrupt you. Though, I wouldn't mind if you started dressing like them."
That last comment earned the Jedi Master a full-on wicked glare, but he just laughed, truly happy, and it occurred to Jaina that he was likely riling her up just to get her to talk.
Just for a moment did she allow her mind to linger on the dress Kyp was implying. Years ago, just after she and her remaining friends had returned from the Myrkr mission, she'd dined with the Hapan royal family for a night and been forced into a revealing scarlet dress she'd despised just for the occasion. It had been as stunning as it had been itchy and tight and insufferable … but Kyp was fond of making references to the showpiece and hinting that maybe Jaina ought to get out of her comfort zone more often.
She shook her head, moving on from the jest. "I'm serious, Durron. If I inherited any care for etiquette from my mother, it's concerning this. Get your elbows off my kriffing table."
Grinning, Kyp obliged. "That's an interesting place to use profanity. What's up, Jay? Talk to me."
She shrugged, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. Then, she quickly set it down when she thought about how much she must look like her mother. "What's there to talk about? Nothing new since my dead brother came back to life."
"Sure. I guess I was wondering what you guys have been talking about. What Anakin has been asking and what you've told him."
"He's been stuck on Tahiri for the last couple of days. He hasn't asked about much else. Though, I think it's because he's given up on getting answers. He just wants to see Tahiri."
Kyp murmured an old Nabooan phrase Jaina knew to mean 'love transcends even death'.
Jaina didn't know what to say to that, so she pretended not to hear even though she knew Kyp knew better.
"I'm worried about them. Both of them. Individually and … together."
Kyp nodded.
"What do you think?"
He looked up from his meal, semi-perplexed. "About Tahiri now …?"
"About how it will go. How it will end up. Do you think they're going to be okay? Or, that they'll be together again?"
Kyp didn't take a moment to think about it. He shrugged, focus returned to the generous burrito before him. "I don't know."
"Fierfek," she huffed. "I hate how brutally honest you are."
"Sure, Goddess." He grinned mildly.
This was why Jaina loved the rogue Jedi; he knew her, knew when she needed a little push and how far, knew when she needed to be left alone. He knew when she needed to talk, when she would, and most importantly: when to listen.
Jaina muttered, "I hate keeping things from him." She speared her side salad with her fork. "He knows something's wrong. He just wants answers, and we won't give him the kriffing time of day."
"But you're doing it for his good."
"Is it for his good? Does it help him if we keep our secrets and he's left alone to make his own assumptions? Fierfek! I wonder what he thinks has happened."
"Do you or your parents have a plan for talking to him?"
She shook her head. "Just a long list of stuff we're holding off telling him."
"No estimate as to when …"
"When we have to."
At the very least, Jaina figured he would appreciate her honesty; she was typically a very forward person with no soft edges to dull her razor-edged tongue. Though her tongue may be sharper, it was a quality they shared, and they both respected that in each other.
"Now, that," Kyp allowed himself a small, amused grin. "Is a marvelous plan."
"Shut up, Durron. Imagine telling your brother about how you responded to his death. Your adventures with the Dark Side, the Sun Crusher. Carida."
Across the small dining table, Kyp was no longer maintaining Jaina's gaze, and he sat rigid in his seat, white fist clenched around the handle of his fork. He took a moment to recover. "Okay. I see your point."
Jaina sighed. "I don't like being harsh," she told him by means of an apology.
She really did feel guilty for using such sore points to make her case, but this was one of the grounds on which they shared the most understanding. In her past, Jaina had flirted with the dark side and nearly lost herself to its dark temptations. Kyp had been there too, called in even further than Jaina. And caused— arguably— much greater damage. It was an internal demon he would spend the rest of his life fighting, as Jaina would hers.
"Jaina, I know. I get it."
"I spent months training and preparing to put a lightsaber through our brother's chest. How am I supposed to tell Anakin that? Our family collectively decided that we had no other choice but to kill him. Anakin has no idea what happened to Jacen. He has no idea that our brother was capable of the things he did."
"The war changed him," Kyp nodded, his jade gaze holding hers. "It changed you. It changed me. Not always for good. But no one came out without scars."
"That doesn't explain how our own brother— Anakin's big brother, the sibling he always looked up to— became what he did. How he murdered our aunt, manipulated our cousin, his lover, Anakin's girlfriend, or how he attacked our father's ship. Anakin won't believe that Jacen could fire on the Falcon. Forget his run as Caedus. The Falcon is like our family's home, our base. That alone— just the idea of Jacen shooting …"
"I know, Jay. I know."
But the words weren't clogged in Jaina's throat. No. If anything, they screamed to come flooding out, one ugly, vicious truth after another. "At the Falcon. At our parents. He pout a poison dart through our aunt. How do I tell our little brother that?"
"Bandage. Rip."
Brandy eyes looked up from a half-eaten sandwich to scowl at Kyp. "Sometimes, I really kriffing hate the ideas you come up with."
He smiled sadly. "You'll have to tell Anakin eventually. Will it really be any easier each day you hold it off? Or harder? He's not stupid. He has to know you're keeping something from him."
"Only everything."
"Jaina. You need to talk to him. You or Tahiri. More likely you. The longer you hold this off, the worse it will hurt him. Is that really how you want to start off your new relationship with him?"
Jaina swallowed, a stab of guilt piercing through her chest. "No. I just want to move on, and spend the next sixty years making up for lost time with my little brother."
"You can't start until he knows. And, right now, he doesn't even know you."
They're the most beautiful words Leia thought she'd heard in a long time. They were full of hope and promise and relief, and it freed a dark fear from her. But, somehow, it was also daunting. Dark and unwelcome. Or, perhaps, it was what it brought with it that pressed a greater burden upon her already tired shoulders. It left Leia conflicted for just a moment before she quickly shoved aside her fears and cried in relief.
"All clear." Cilghal nodded shortly, black bulbous eyes alight as she stepped from the side of the medical bunk. "Tekli will be checking his vitals once more in a few hours. Then, granted they continue to reflect well, he will be discharged from my care and free to go home."
Struggling to form words, Leia merely nodded her thanks to the healer. She and Han had an ostentatious bouquet of Mon Cal water lilies on order to offer their thanks— it didn't seem like nearly enough, but Leia had never seen Cilghal express a care for any materialistic possession, and Leia got the feeling she would refuse any gift if she and Han were to offer. Regardless, Leia couldn't express the depth of her gratitude, try as she might, but Cilghal smiled back warmly as if she understood.
Lying in his bunk, Anakin was asleep. He had fallen to slumber in the middle of Cilghal's check-up, and Leia didn't bother to kid herself because she knew he hadn't been getting much sleep at night. And she knew why. A bit of guilt nipped at her, but she quickly shoved it aside, busying her attention with her own examination of her son and reflecting on the healer's announcement.
He would be free to go home.
Anakin was an odd twenty-something, but there were few options. Jaina had her own quarters back on Coruscant, but Kyp frequented there and Leia couldn't ask her daughter to take in Anakin right now. She was dealing with enough, and Leia was glad she had a comfortable arrangement with Kyp. Besides, she likely valued having her own place to go back to, away from the rest of the family and drama and constant reminders of— everything. A place where Kyp waited for her to offer comfort, respite, and his own love, perhaps.
Introducing a stranger to Allana while she's still getting used to her new home and life away from her mother and Hapes is less than ideal. Leia can't deny she's a resilient child, however, and the young girl hasn't stopped asking when she'll get to meet her uncle.
But also … introducing Anakin to a stranger. To his niece. His niece who had been abandoned by her father, who'd strayed so far from his family and everything he'd once held dear, strayed from himself—
Leia shook her head. They had time. A few hours. But it was something. They'd figure this out. Somehow.
Before she realized it, Cilghal had already left and Jaina was knocking softly as she peeked in. She glances sideways to see her brother asleep and quietly slipped in. "How long has he been sleeping?"
"Not long. He fell asleep while Cilghal was still in here."
"Good. He needs more rest."
Leia didn't respond to that because she knew.
"Your dad's still home?"
Jaina nodded. "He and Amelia are having lunch."
It was quiet for a long moment, only the hum of different monitors and equipment interrupting the silence. And it's one of the heaviest silences Leia thought she'd ever endured. She had to break it, so she told Jaina, "Cilghal said he can go home today."
But that didn't really help because her words only opened up the chasm of the unspoken, all the words left there in the open, too obvious and unfortunately acknowledged, and they both knew it.
Leia used to be the person to garner her words like a hatchet without hesitation and cut through such silences. She used to be unafraid of these kinds of confrontations. But she was surprised to realize that she had— over the years— developed a fear of moments like this. And it was Jaina instead who suddenly sliced through the unsaid.
"We can't hold this off anymore."
Leia knew it was coming, those exact words, and still, she winced.
She was playing with Anakin's hair, lightly combing her fingers through the sandy curls, swiping them from his forehead, stroking his face— all like he was four again, nothing more than a little boy curled up in his mama's lap.
At least, Leia wished it were so. (And by the stars, did she wish it!)
Jaina, for her part, didn't balk. Her piercing gaze remained fixed on her mother as she pulled a seat beside her. "He already knows we're hiding something from him. He can tell we've hardly told him a thing that matters."
Leia opened her mouth to speak, to argue, though she really had no adequate argument to make. Didn't actually have anything to say, really. So, perhaps, it was a small mercy that Jaina forged on.
"And don't say that it's for his good. It was for his good the first few days. But now …"
"Every day, he asks about Tahiri. Every morning your dad and I get here, and every time we leave."
"Anakin isn't stupid. You know he's been wondering about Jacen just as long."
"I know we need to talk to him, but how are we supposed to start?"
Now, Jaina glanced away briefly, biting on her lip. "Doesn't matter. Just as long as we start." She got up, and Leia watched her pace back to the door, her gait all confidence even as waves of anguish poured from her aura. She stopped at the door to spare her mother one last glance. "We're out of time. I'm going to call Uncle Luke so he can meet us here."
Leia had no words, no encouragement to offer when she herself felt so small. Looking upon her child, her youngest, she tucked one more lock of hair behind his ear and merely nodded to her daughter, resigned.
As Tekli gingerly removed his fluid drip from the back of his hand, Anakin found himself holding his breath, watching her with a focused gaze. When the needle came free and Tekli disposed of the equipment, Anakin felt a wave of relief— like he'd feared that the dark and misty claws of death might reach for him again.
As if sensing his anxiety— though, Anakin supposed she likely was— his mother squeezed his hand, offering him a reassuring smile. Though, as much as his mother was connected to him and could read him, Anakin could read his mother just as well, and her own relief swelled not so far below the surface.
"And, with that," Tekli announced in a sing-song tone, snapping off her gloves, "I hereby clear you to leave."
"Thanks, Tekli."
He was certainly anxious to leave his medroom, though there was something to be said for the slight dread he felt at walking through that door. If the extra laugh lines etched on his mother's face and the newer gray hairs on his father's head had startled him, what was he to expect from the rest of the new world waiting for him?
But wasn't that precisely what he'd been begging his parents and sister for? The truth? The answer to whatever waited for him out there?
Anakin was yanked from his thoughts when the door slid open and his sister stepped in. Jaina was dressed in street clothes with a brown Jedi robe pulled securely around her shoulders. Though she appeared in a lighter mood than Anakin had seen her in days, underneath her outward demeanor was an unmistakably grim determination.
But she flashed Anakin a bright smile. "You don't look too bad, little brother. Well enough to pull the ears off a gundark, at least."
Anakin grinned. "Well enough to go against you in a duel, huh?"
He didn't miss the pain that dashed across Jaina's face so quickly, disappearing equally fast that Anakin honestly wondered if he'd imagined it. Before he could think twice about it, however, Jaina snorted. "Alright. I see your ego is intact. Don't get too excited, little brother. I'm big stuff around here, nice rep. Fancy title too. I wouldn't want to overwhelm you while you're still so … rusty." She grinned wickedly, and Anakin decided to accept the challenge.
"No!" their mother was quick to burst, shooting daggers between the brother and sister. Anakin had to stifle his laughter even as Leia scorned him, dark brows drawn sharply close together. "No dueling until Cilghal clears you. You better not be thinking about touching a lightsaber until—"
"Until you can walk, at least. Don't you think?"
Anakin looked up at the sound of his father's voice to see Han Solo standing in the doorway, a tired and weary expression on his face. But Anakin hardly paid his father's presence half a mind because standing next to him was—
"Uncle Luke."
Luke Skywalker had always had the looks of the friendly but plain next-door neighbor, almost unremarkable if it wasn't for the wisdom, compassion, and humility he emanated— and he appeared no different in that regard. Except that age and time showed as drastically in his face as it did his parents and sister. He still carried the trained and toned figure of a Jedi Master, but his hair was a bit grayer, his eyes considerably darker, and more wrinkles and creases surrounded his face and cheeks. While grief followed his mother, father, and sister like shadows, there seemed to be a more physical weight weighing on his uncle's shoulders. But when he and Anakin met eyes … Anakin had never seen his uncle's eyes so bright. Alight and electric like the blue blade he'd once carried. His entire demeanor transformed as they took each other in. Instantaneously, his uncle's eyes filled with tears, and his lips quivered as he cried, "Anakin, my boy …"
It surprised Anakin how emotional he suddenly became. When his uncle took a step forward, nothing could hold Anakin back as he kicked free of his blankets and struggled to his feet. First step off the bed, he nearly fell over, but his sister and mother were fast to reach him and catch him between the two of them. He took another stumbling step forward before they could stop him, leaving Leia and Jaina with no choice but to walk with him as they supported him, his arms hanging in front of them. Luke beamed, tears spilling down his face, and he opened his arms to catch Anakin as he came forward.
"Uncle Luke," he heard himself cry, already wrapped fiercely in Luke's embrace.
It wouldn't be until later that Anakin realized the source of his raw, unchecked emotion— that he would have cried and fallen into the arms of his mother, father, and sister if Tekli had first told him he'd been dead. But he hadn't known that then, hadn't felt the inexplicable horror of that understanding and the simultaneous relief upon being reunited with family. When he'd first looked upon his mother and father, he hadn't known the grief or ever being separated in death. Though, he felt it now. And this was his uncle, his master.
His uncle held him like a child, and Anakin couldn't mind less, with his face pressed into Luke's shoulder as he wept.
It was also a relief, Anakin realized somewhere in the back of his mind, to see his uncle and know that he was okay. Every friend and family member he hadn't yet seen added a seed of fear Anakin wasn't sure he was ready to face yet. But he needed to know. And to be able to pick up one of those seeds and set it safely aside really was a comfort.
"My boy." Luke's voice was thick with his tears. He pushed back first to look at Anakin, planted his palm against Anakin's cheek to feel his flushed skin, to sweep back his hair from his forehead and survey his nephew for himself. Anakin managed a choked-off laugh as his uncle's inspection felt very much like the one his mother liked to perform every morning she came to his room.
"You're here." Anakin just nodded. "I'm so sorry, Anakin. I'm so sorry."
Somehow, Anakin knew his uncle was thinking about the Myrkr mission, about the big meeting they'd held on Eclipse Base when Luke had signed off on the suicide mission Anakin had proposed. He could see the guilt and grief in his master's eyes, and he wondered if his uncle had been living with that all these years. "No. Uncle— Master— please don't." He didn't know what to call him, how to address Luke at this moment. For, he could tell, too, that both sides of Luke bore that guilt and that grief— both the uncle who had allowed his nephew on that mission and the Jedi Master who had placed his student in charge of leading the mission, knowing it was a death sentence. "I'm— it's over. I'm here."
Blinking through wet eyes, Luke just shook his head and threw his arms around Anakin once more.
"This is sweet and all," Jaina's voice cut through the moment in a drawl. "But please tell me you brought him some clothes because I can see a lot more of my brother right now than I want to."
"Right." Luke retrieved from a satchel a pile of clothes and a pair of warm brown boots. He held them out, and Leia quickly swiped them before Anakin could. "Mom," he prodded gently. "I'm steady now. I can make it to the 'fresher."
"I just don't want you to tire yourself—"
To Anakin's relief, his uncle nodded Leia away. "I got him, Lei. Don't worry." Then, Luke took his arm and held on as Anakin took painfully slow and heavy steps to the refresher. Luke left him there, and Anakin made use of a stool beside the sanisteam to sit as he dressed. His uncle had brought him a sandy tunic and pants along with the boots. They were, perhaps, a tad small, but loose enough to work.
Once he was dressed with his borrowed boots laced up too, he challenged himself to leave the refresher without trailing his hand along the wall, watching the floor as he took each careful step.
He found himself relying more heavily on the Force than he wanted to admit, and when his mother approached— hesitating, allowing him the freedom to decide whether he needed to take that help or not— Anakin reluctantly reached for her arm. He felt her own strength flow into him, his mother using the Force to carry him so he didn't have to. Ashamed as he was in his own weakness, his attention was quickly drawn elsewhere as his mother helped him back to bed and took her own seat.
While he reclined in the medbunk, his mother, father, sister, and uncle all sat in a half-formed ring around him.
Like some formal meeting. An intervention.
While they all had the decency to look at him, none of them would quite meet his eyes. Their postures were stiff and demeanors resigned. Their gazes fell across space, and their presences felt more like ghosts— like none of them were really there. If there was any joy leftover in the room from Anakin and his uncle's reunion, it was all squashed under the weight of their forlornness.
It was like all the happiness and relief of the last week had been an illusion. Or, perhaps, it had only been the image painted on the surface. Then, like a ripe blumfruit peeled wide open, the raw insides were now exposed.
So, this was it. He'd been begging his family for this, for answers, for them to finally give him the kriffing time of day—!
Why was his heart suddenly in his stomach …
He'd known. Somehow, he'd known this was how it would be. Or, this was the truth he'd seen through the peel, through the fogged ecstasy of his blasted return.
Although, had it really been a secret? When he'd seen this moment coming from a lightyear away …
He couldn't stand it anymore. Couldn't stand the silence, nor the blaring noise around everything that wasn't being said. He had to know. He'd go crazy if they held it off a moment longer—
"Where is Jacen?"
A thick silence hung just long enough that Anakin began to wonder if they would call it off at the last minute and leave him painted smiles. Admittedly, he was surprised when Jaina spoke up. "I think you already know."
If anyone in his family was surprised by Jaina's bluntness, they didn't show it. Anakin wasn't. Then again, he'd never seen his parents or sister lie so poorly.
Yet, to have it confirmed … Anakin didn't know what to feel, how to respond. Part of him was sure this had to be a nightmare, but when he quickly came to the conclusion that it wasn't, he didn't feel anything.
"Was it on the Myrkr mission?" His voice was monotone. "After me?"
"No, he … " A sigh. Then, "After we lost you— on Myrkr— Jacen and I got into a big argument. About what to do next." Anakin frowned before Jaina could elaborate. "Jacen wanted to keep going. Move on straightforward and get the queen."
Now, his frown only deepened. "What else would you do?"
His sister's brandy eyes held his, and, at that moment, Anakin understood the true depth of Jaina's grief. Her gaze penetrated through his, cutting like a vibroblade to the heart, and the sensation of her anguish rolled through the Force— so strong a torrent, it nearly knocked him over. "I wanted to go back and recover your body."
"You were going to sacrifice the mission— sacrifice yourself— just to pick up my remains?"
His mother flinched.
Jaina's stare, however, was relentless. "For my little brother? Yes. And I wasn't the only one."
Tahiri.
Anakin cursed under his breath. "You realize how stupid that was, don't you?"
"Of course. But I don't regret it."
"You could have died—"
"And I still wouldn't regret it. Because I swore to myself that I wouldn't leave my brothers behind."
Anakin conceded— for the moment— though, he was far from satisfied.
Jaina's mood had changed, however; and Anakin caught the shift in her hushed voice. "Tahiri, Zekk, and Alema came with me. Jacen led the rest of the group to find the queen. When we came back with you, Vergere had offered her help in tracking the queen, led Jacen to her, and helped him steal Nom Anor's personal warship, the Ksstarr. We needed time to escape, though, so Jacen sent us off while he went after the queen."
"... And?"
"He got her." She looked away, and when she spoke again, her voice was but a whisper. "… And. The rest of the team decided we needed to leave. Yeah. I left him. I didn't want to, but they insisted. We had to go. And I've regretted it every day since."
"So, it was on Myrkr."
Instead of answering, Jaina looked down to study her nails as she went on. "We hijacked Nom Amir's ship and headed for Coruscant, but there were Vong ships everywhere. Before we'd left Myrkr, Coruscant had fallen. So, we headed to Hapes where everyone who had been stationed on Eclipse had evacuated to.
"And, Anakin … it was hard after we lost you. Really hard. And I thought Jacen was gone— well, everyone thought. Mom was the only one who believed he was still alive. But it was hard. I know that's not an excuse, but I slipped, Anakin."
"Slipped?"
"Towards the dark side. And I'm apologizing because that's the biggest disgrace I did to your memory."
"I— I'm glad you didn't fall completely. I guess, I don't know what I would do if I lost you."
Jaina swallowed thickly and a tear escaped one eye. her gaze never leaving her brother's. She pushed on.
She told him briefly about the funeral they'd held on Hapes, even including how she almost hadn't gone. She seemed to breeze over other events on Hapes, though.
Jaina explained how she'd renamed Nom Anor's ship to Trickster, and how General Antilles had encouraged her to embrace the image of the trickster goddess herself while giving her command over Twin Suns Squadron— in lieu of psychological warfare against the Vong. She gave a quick summary of the battle over Borleias and their eventual victory.
"And then … Jacen came back to us. He'd been taken prisoner by Vergere and Nom Anor, and they'd tortured him and deprived him. Vergere … messed with him. filled his head with doubts and fears and made him question everything Uncle Luke taught us.
"Then, for some reason, Vergere helped him escape the Vong and reunite with us on Mon Calamari. … I was so relieved when he came back. … I missed that he needed me. As much as I needed him after Myrkr.
"He never told us much about what happened while Vergere had him. All I know is … he was never the same." Jaina quickly shook her head as though to banish that final thought from her head.
Anakin had never experienced such an abrupt change of topic as when Jaina suddenly launched into an explanation of the rest of the war.
Tenel Ka's ascendancy to the Hapan throne. Ganner Rhysode's death. Jaina's military promotion. The reformed Jedi Council. The strike team members' promotion to Jedi Knights. The collapse of the New Republic. The organization of the Galactic Alliance.
A living planet …
She paused. "Tahiri … Tahiri had a really hard time with … She was devastated, Anakin. Losing you— it completely wrecked her."
"Why does this sound like a warning."
"None of us came out of that war the same, but Tahiri … I don't know how to explain what happened. She was hysterical. Losing you shattered her. Do you remember … after her Shaping? The Riina personality started to resurface. It was driving her mad until she went into this catatonic state. It lasted for days before she woke up, and … she explained that the only way to move on was for Riina's and Tahiri's personalities to merge—"
"Merge? Is she—" Anakin struggled for a moment. Is she okay? Is she still Tahiri? Was this the catch to his glorified resurrection? If Tahiri wasn't in this life, then he didn't want it.
"She's … not the same Tahiri. But she's still Tahiri."
Before Anakin could nettle his sister for more of an explanation, Jaina was already moving on.
The Imperial Remnant and Chiss siding with the Galactic Alliance for the only time in history. The discovery of the living planet, Zonama Sekot, how the Vong had been banished there following a set of accords established between the Galactic Alliance and Yuuzhan Vong.
"After the Vong war … we all coped differently. I threw myself into my training, helping the Order recover. Jacen … Jacen was afraid of being idolized within the Order and being faced with an image he couldn't live up to. So, he went off to learn more about the Force we don't know where, and it was five years until we saw him again. And when he came back … Hmph! I was so relieved when he came back. I missed how much more he needed me."
While Anakin couldn't comprehend where his sister's story was going, he looked at her to see tears pooling in her eyes. One escaped, rushing down her cheek, and she quickly swiped it away. But when Anakin turned his head, Jaina wasn't the only one.
"We all missed it." Leia's voice wavered and cracked, her face already red and wet with tears. "He needed help, and we all missed it."
Anakin swallowed. "What happened to him?"
"It wasn't what happened to him," Jaina shook her head. "It's what he did.
"A while after Jacen came back from his pilgrimage— and after another war between the Chiss and Killiks— don't ask— Corellia was pressing against the Alliance for independence. It sounded like a real glory campaign, but Thrackan was riling up other systems, too. When Coruscant made a show of force on Corellia, Corellia fought back. Omas created an anti-terrorism group of officers centralized on Coruscant to deal with attacks. He asked Aunt Mara to lead it. When she refused because she feared it would become a task force of secret police, Omas turned to Jacen."
Anakin raised a doubtful brow. "Commanding a military squad? Doesn't sound like Jacen's gig."
Jaina merely shrugged. "I told you. He'd changed.
"He was enthusiastic about supporting the Galactic Alliance and putting local governments in their place. The military liked him, liked his aggressiveness, his ruthlessness. He gained a lot of power really fast.
"Eventually, Omas decided that Coruscant needed a secret police force after all. But as soon as Jacen and his new buddies found disagreement with Omas—" Jaina drew a line across her neck. "Jacen and the Supreme Commander of the military Cha Niathal installed themselves as Joint Chiefs of State.
"And we never saw Jacen again."
Anakin sat up. "What do you mean?"
Jaina leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and began counting off on one hand. "He got himself a shiny Star Destroyer, named it after you and then used it to fire on the Falcon. Heset out a warrant for Mom and Dad's arrests, oversaw interrogations using the Force to enact physical punishment to said subjects, attacked Kashyyyk and set the forests to flames, manipulated our cousin into nearly following him—"
She broke off abruptly, as if a great and heavy curtain had suddenly descended, efficiently cutting her off. In her eyes, Anakin saw a greater horror than he had ever felt. Unmatched pain at its very climax. He looked between Han, Leia, and Luke to see that or a merely dead look occupy their expressions.
"All these terrible things he'd done, and none of us could see that he was already gone. But Aunt Mara … she recognized the darkness in him, swallowing him. She saw it before any of us were ready to face it— to admit that he was gone. We were just waiting … for him to turn back."
Somehow, Anakin knew where this was going. But if he didn't before, the heavy tear that then fell down his sister's face was enough of a hint. And yet, he couldn't face it either.
"Aunt Mara went after him. To confront him. She probably thought if anyone had a chance of turning him back around it was her. I would have figured the same.
"But once she went after him, she never came back."
Anakin's throat tightened. "No. No! Jacen wouldn't—"
"Jacen didn't," she agreed. "He got himself a fancy new name to go with his new role. Darth Caedus. Made it easier to separate the two, at least."
Anakin couldn't make himself so much as glance his uncle's way. The waves of grief that emanated from him were enough. And then a dreadful question came to him: what was Luke Skywalker without Mara Jade? His gaze flashed to his parents who held hands in a white-knuckled grip, and he equally wondered what Han Solo might be without Leia Organa. Such a horrifying thought, Anakin quickly decided, that he couldn't fathom. But there his uncle was now, the great and humble Jedi Master without his cunning and wise-cracking wife at his side.
"At first, we'd thought another Sith was responsible for her death. Then, Alema. But Ben was the one who had gathered the evidence to prove it was Caedus. Shortly after he killed Mara, he decided he needed an apprentice— preferably one he could easily manipulate into joining him in the first place."
"Ben?"
Jaina shook her head. "Tahiri."
Anakin had never tasted the true temptations of the dark side, and he didn't now, but he did see it on the horizon of his consciousness, taste a bit of the flames as they suddenly came to boil beneath his skin.
Tahiri. His Tahiri— Jacen had— the kriffing bastard!
As quickly as that tempting heat crept up his skin, Anakin doused his fury, mindful of the cautionary tale Jaina was in the middle of relaying. But he could hardly help his own fury at the thought of his own brother looking to twist Tahiri into a dark force, manipulate her into following him into darkness …
"Caedus did some other shit too, had Tahiri do some stuff she'll regret for the rest of her life. But … It became clear immediately what had to be done. Caedus needed to be stopped."
"You went after him."
"I didn't make that choice lightly. But our brother was gone, Anakin. My twin. My best friend. Believe me, Anakin, I tried looking for him, tried to coax him back out. He was already dead. I was just taking care of the monster who'd taken his place."
"And you killed him."
Jaina blinked. "I don't know. We dueled aboard his flagship. Beat each other up pretty well. But there came a point before I could make the killing blow, that he stopped and this— this storm took up the room we were in. Some sort of unnatural maelstrom. I couldn't stand; I had to curl up and shield myself from the winds. But when the storm finally died, Caedus was gone. I did feel his life extinguish, burn out like a star. But when I crawled over to look at the body … you were there instead."
He stumbled into the corridor by himself, swatting any comforting hands that tried to reach for him until he was standing in the bright, artificial light of the hallway. The door slid shut behind him with a nearly silent whoosh, but the sound was enough to startle Anakin. He threw out an arm to reach for the wall, steadying himself where he stood. He kept a hand braced against the white wall, taking short, limping steps. To where? Stars, if he cared! Anywhere else. Maybe, just across the hall, there was a place where things made sense.
As he tripped along, with no clue of where he was headed, his vision seemed to fade out, and Anakin panicked a moment before the sensation overwhelmed his balance and he gripped desperately to the wall. Instead of the bright hallway, its sensory lights coming to life as he staggered along, a new environment came into being around him.
A cold chill nipped at his bare skin, winter wind rushing past him. Startled, he slid to the floor only to find that there was no floor but the ground. Cold, stone ground like the gray walls now entombing him. All was dark in the tunnels, the only illumination the light of a wintery day far outside the caves from where Anakin sat.
But then his eyes adjusted, and two figures came to life before him. One emerged from a wall of rubble, a single arm bursting through as if only reaching out for help. Through the cracks glinted a yellow eye and bloodied face. Across the way stood the proud and determined figure of … Anakin's aunt Mara Jade Skywalker. She stood confident as ever, poised and ready, arms crossed as one held out a gun with her finger tickling the trigger while the other held a shoto— a smaller lightsaber— adjacent to her shoulder, ready to strike. She stood still, legs braced a shoulder's width apart, and waited, refusing to take that hand. A slight movement and she raised the gun just a centimeter.
Then, the bloodied figure behind the wall whispered into the cold silence, "Tell my mom I'm sorry I failed her."
Jacen.
Mara showed no sympathy as she answered, "She knows," and squeezed the trigger.
A violent, desperate duel broke out and blurred in high speed before Anakin's eyes, flashing as the figures of his aunt and brother brawled, Mara fierce and unforgiving. Jacen … surprised. Until it all came to a sudden return in regular speed—
And Jacen reached down, stabbing Mara in the leg with a poison dart.
At once, Mara gasped, shock and remorse blazing in her jade eyes.
"Oh …" Jacen, apparently, was nearly as shocked. "It's done …"
The shoto fell from Mara's hand, clattering along the ground. She moved to throw her vibroblade, but the aim was weak and there was no strength behind the blow.
"I'm sorry, Mara. Had to be you. Thought it was Ben. But it's over now, it's over …"
A fury the likes of which Anakin had never seen before and didn't think could be matched by even Mustafar fulminated in Mara's eyes, and she raged, "What have you done? What the stang have you done to me?" Her balance was already failing her, and she slumped to one side as she looked upon Jacen in pure shock.
"The prophecy," he murmured. "Don't fight it. No healing trance. Just let go . . ."
"What?" She tried to raise her fingers to her lips, but her hand fell limp in her lap.
"It's my destiny, Mara— to be a Sith Lord, and bring order and justice. I had to kill you to do it. You're going to save so many people, Mara. You've saved Ben. You've saved Allana, too. It's not a waste, believe me."
When Mara returned her gaze to the dark figure, she looked more sad than anything. "You're ... as vile as he was."
"Who?"
"Palpatine."
The dark figure leaned back. "It's not like that. It's not about ambition. It's about the galaxy, about peace. It's about building a different world."
"You think . . . you've won," she slurred, yet entirely unafraid. "But Luke will crush you . . . and I refuse ... to let you . . . destroy the future . . . for my Ben."
And Aunt Mara didn't speak another word.
"Aunt Mara!" Anakin tried to rush forward, to shove the dark figure who wore his brother's face away and reach his aunt, offer what strength he had to heal her and empty her system of the poison. But it was too late.
The scene whirled away in a gust of wind, and Anakin fell back to his haunches before he could look to now see … well, it was hard to discern. At first, he thought he was back in the grashal on the Baanu Rass, but then he saw a simple storage room. Until he focused and the two locations seemed to merge, and Anakin came to understand that he was in a storage room, and the new figures ahead were somehow projecting themselves into the grashal. Standing side by side, both clad in pressure suits, were Jacen and Tahiri.
"I hope I'm ready for this," Tahiri spoke, her voice cracked and brittle, and the sound unsettled Anakin at once. "Maybe my first flow-walk shouldn't have been into the middle of a battle."
Jacen managed to assure her evenly, "We'll be fine. We're ghosts here. Even if a Yuuzhan Vong sees us, he can't do us harm."
"It's us doing harm that worries me," Tahiri countered. "What if we change something we shouldn't— something that alters the present?"
"That's unlikely," Jacen promised, though all Anakin could sense was lies. "I won't let you do anything wrong. Just relax."
"Unlikely isn't very relaxing," Tahiri replied. "Not when you're talking about the fate of the galaxy."
"Trust me," Jacen said. "I've been flow-walking for years, and the galaxy hasn't come to an end yet."
"Not that we know of."
Through this Tahiri and Jacen's vision, Anakin could see the members of the Myrkr strike team take shape; he could see himself, followed by the younger Tahiri that he last remembered, racing through the grashal, shouting orders back to Jaina and Jacen as their team was bombarded by Vong.
Older Tahiri swallowed, tears glistening in her eyes.
Thermal grenades detonated overhead and Older Tahiri moved to dive for cover, but Older Jacen jerked her back. Shrapnel flew past, whizzing by them without so much as singing their suits.
"I told you we can't be harmed here," Older Jacen said.
Older Tahiri appeared doubtful. "You also told me it was a coincidence we crossed paths on Anakin's anniversary day," Tahiri replied.
For a moment, it felt like a piece of that loose-flying shrapnel had landed its mark in Anakin's chest. His own breath hitched in horror.
Tahiri just shrugged shortly. "That doesn't mean I believe you."
Older Jacen frowned behind his visor. "You think I arranged to bump into you?"
"Come on, Jacen," Tahiri said. "I'm a smart girl."
Yes, Tahiri! He tried to call out, to warn her. You're stronger than this. Don't let him fool you.
"Okay, let's say I did arrange it. Why did you come?"
"Because I was tempted. And I want to find out what you need from me."
"I don't need anything. I just thought this might help you move on."
Help— move on? Damn you, whoever you are! Tahiri, you have to see beyond his lies. You have to know he's manipulating you. Even so, I'm not worth this.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"It's for Anakin, too," Jacen supplied. "I think my brother deserves this much... don't you?"
Once more, Anakin went tumbling as the horrific, tormenting scene washed away. He quickly staggered to his feet, hoping to be ahead of the vision this time, but he was no less surprised when he spun around in a small, stately office to see Tahiri pointing a blaster at Gilad Pellaeon.
She stood tall in an all-black uniform complete even with glossy dark boots, thick material surrounding and enclosing her feet. Her voice was cold and nearly merciless as she spoke. "Call off your fleet and give Jacen Solo a chance. He needs to win at Fondor."
The Imperial admiral almost smiled as he mused, "Win …"
"Destroy its capacity to threaten the GA again. It's a practical matter, but it also shows the rest of the galaxy how high the stakes are for them."
"No."
"You know you're going to die," said Tahiri.
"I'm ninety-two years old. Of course I'm going to die, and quite soon, but it's how I die that matters to me. Please— get out of my cabin."
"Last chance." Tahiri leveled the blaster. "All you have to do is call a halt. The Moffs obey you."
"My son died to defeat the Yuuzhan Vong, and Jacen's as set on destroying everything I hold dear as they were.
"Pellaeon to Fleet," he spoke into a comm in his hand. "Fleet, this is Admiral Pellaeon. I order you to place your vessels at the complete disposal of Admiral Niathal, and take down Jacen Solo, for the honor of the Empire—"
Then, the blaster screamed, and Pellaeon fell.
Anakin gasped as if he had once again taken the shot instead. A flicker of wild fear in Tahiri's eyes was the last thing Anakin saw before he fell to the hard floor of the medical wing. He was too shocked, too scarred to manage a cohesive thought. But he took a breath, another, allowed himself a moment to adjust to his surroundings when he glanced down a dark hall branching further off the corridor of the medical wing. At the other end of that hallway was a distant light, but enough to illuminate a single silhouette. The figure's head turned to look Anakin's way, and he was struck with familiarity— a brush of a presence he would recognize across the galaxy and beyond. He imagined that he could see the figure's bright green eyes and hear her contagious, bubbling laughter. But just as quickly, Tahiri whipped her head around and raced back down the hall she'd come from.
Dumbly, he stretched out an arm to reach for her, tears falling down his face when his hand came away empty. He had nothing to say, no explanation to give as his parents, uncle, and sister came racing across the corridor to him. They fussed over him, checking his every injury and begging for an answer as to whether he was okay.
Anakin wouldn't have known what to say if he'd had the mind to come up with words. But he let them pick him up, held him between them as they continued down the corridor, and carried him home.
