Force bonds

Instinct was a strange thing.

Jaina couldn't breathe. Sand was everywhere – in her eyes, between her hands, all around her – and tore her down relentlessly. First she slid, then it dragged her under. Buried her knee-deep, waist-deep and further, tore at her clothes and her hair and her pack and her limbs. Her sense of orientation was lost in the downslide. She fell, tumbled and slid, unable to stop. Her eyes were stinging. The rush of her own blood in her ears was deafening but still did not drown out the angry, roaring krayt dragon that was sensing his prey was near. Served on a platter. –Irony will be your downfall, sister mine. All her instincts screamed at her to try and break her fall with her hands, to flail her arms and scream until someone – anyone – helped her. But – and that was the strange thing and, at the same time, not strange at all – there were other instincts engrained into her being so deeply they took over without a second thought. Jaina reached out for the Force and drew. It came immediately. It enveloped her like a soft, warm shell, creating a thin layer of air between herself and the surrounding sand. It wouldn't save her, she knew, but at least it protected her for a short sliver of time. At the same time, she grasped for her light saber. Layers of clothing suddenly seemed to deliberately try to hinder her. In combination with the sand, it was a task which seemed to take hours but Jaina was aware that only seconds had passed since she had been caught by the avalanche. After an eternity the familiar, cool metal of her light saber hilt nestled into her hand and she gripped it tightly, not activating it yet. She was still sliding, downward, buried by sand, but down was the only conscious direction she was able to discern. If she didn't do something, she would be buried too deeply to free herself on her own accord. If she didn't free herself fast enough, her air would run out, and if she slid too deep she would be crushed by the masses of sand. And there was no time to think, no time to consciously decide for a strategy. No time to worry about whether she would be found, or how she would have to try to free herself. No time, no hesitation. I know you can do it. Jaina's Force awareness latched on the closest living Force presence she could sense: a bright and blood-red consciousness. It was a wild, feral instinct: the krayt dragon. Dark and strong, driven by a fierce animal instinct that called for blood. It wanted to kill. It wanted to protect. It did not know good or evil, just the fight that was survival for itself and its brood. It was frightening.

But it was beautiful, too.

For a second, Jaina saw what Jacen had seen in the animals he had loved so much when he was a child. For a heartbeat, she could see what he had seen, and feel what he had felt. Jacen. She could see him: his blond locks were tousled, as always, his brown eyes shining. A smile lit up his face: carefree and mischievous, like he was plotting a prank or wondering which one of his horrible jokes he should tell her, again. It was Jacen the way he had been before the war had reeled them in and changed them. Jaina could see the twin brother she had loved, who had been her second half for all her life until they weren't One anymore. A memory sparked.

"Jaina, Jaina, how many stormtroopers do you need to assemble a TIE fighter? Two: one to hold the parts, one to glue them on!"

"God, Jacen, that has to be the lamest joke you ever made! Where did you get it from this time?"

"Wait, I'm not finished. How do you double the value of a TIE fighter? Easy: you refuel completely!"

"I swear, if I hear one of your lame TIE jokes one more time I'll throw myself off the top of the pyramid."

"Aww. I thought you loved those."

"How did you recon that?"

"Because you're my twin, and I love you, so you're kind of required to love me. That's how it works."

"Don't get your hopes up. I'm just putting up with you because sometimes it's handy having you around."

A laugh, silver and clear.

"Love you too, sis."

The jungle of Yavin Four. The hangar bay of the Jedi Academy, with its scent of engine grease, burnt power cells, coolant liquids and anti-corrosion chemicals. The familiar scent of the Falcon, a home as much as the apartment on Coruscant, and her mother's soft perfume, her father's aftershave. Chewie's wet fur after a walk in the rain on Kashykk. And, everywhere, always with her: Jacen. Her twin. Jaina's brother. A bright light in the Force, a warm bond between them since the first moment they gained consciousness. She had never been alone in her entire life, not for a second, before Vegere had consciously interrupted their Force bond… Jacen's eyes caught hers and he smiled, bright and loving, and stretched out a hand to welcome her. And then his face twisted into a scowl and his eyes turned black and his Force presence withered and died. It was replaced by a dark, frighteningly unfamiliar presence that burned coldly and made her shiver.

"I can read your mind, sister mine. You wonder when this happened. Fact is: it did not happen at all. It was always there. It is always present, within each one of us, every single being. It always was within me, and it was within you. There is no such thing as hope, or kindness. There merely is the Dark Side, and the power it gives. And you cannot save me from it, because I do not require saving."

Instead, he attacked.

Their parents. Ben. Aunt Mara. Allana. She tried to move, to save the people she loved most, but she was frozen. Her body was not her own. Useless hands, useless legs, and the only thing she could do was to scream –

And something inside Jaina broke. Broke again, because she had known it as the truth a long time ago but had refused to accept it. She had tried to save him but he had been beyond saving: Jacen Solo had died a long time ago. The boy who had been her twin, the one who had lived and laughed by her side, was dead. Tenel Ka had screamed in agony when they felt him disappear. Her parents had turned towards each other, shutting out the world, and had then been forced to fight assassins of whom they knew their son had sent after them. Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara had had to deal with the fact that Jacen had tried to torture Ben, had tried to turn his little cousin, and then Mara had fought him and had almost been killed. Darth Caedus had abducted his daughter and had almost killed his uncle, and then Jaina had come after him. In order to do so she had needed to cut a part of her heart away, because Jacen had been her twin and her beloved brother. She had needed to break their connection once more, and it had nearly killed her. But she had managed to do so. She had set aside hate and anger and had fought him as the Sword of the Jedi, and she had managed to get the better of him. She had lifted her blade for the killing blow, ready to fulfil her last, her most important quest, ready to kill a piece of herself – and then, for a heartbeat, she had hesitated. It was his face, the fear-filled grimace, panic screaming from every pore of his body, that made her waver. Save Allana! Had it been love, the sole essence of the Light Side, that had spoken through Jacen one last time? Had it been hidden deep, deep down in his heart and had revealed itself the second before her blade slashed down to kill him? Had it been enough? Had it been enough to redeem him, in the end, this one last second of thought that did not concern himself or the Dark Side, but the wellbeing of his own flesh and blood? Would it be enough?

Don't let them do this to me, Jaina! Don't let them send me there – not there – Jaina, you're my sister, we share this, you have to help me-

But it didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered. Their bond had been broken, and so many other things. And Jaina didn't feel broken anymore, only tired. The sand surrounding her was warm and comfortable, touched her face like a mother's hand would touch her child's brow. Sleep, Jedi. There's nothing left to do for you. Rest. It would be so easy to just close her eyes and give in. But she did not want to give in. It was wrong, went against everything she had learned and had lived for. Her parents, her uncle, even her aunt: they never had given up, not even when they had lost everything they held dear, when everything they believed in turned out to be a lie. She was a Jedi, she was the Sword. So many people depended on her, so many she protected by her sole presence. She had a task to fulfil, couldn't give up now… It was just. It was just so hard to go on. To continue fighting, continue breathing and fighting for breath. Fighting was hard, living even harder. No peace, no place to settle down. Friends, yes, and family, but always being on her own. Being alone in a room full of people hurt more than she ever would have expected. Running, running, her entire life, and there was no way she would be able to stop sometime soon. It was warm here, and quiet. She could just stay there. She would just stay, on this planet with its twin suns and three moons and desert winds and cruel and beautiful creatures, and nobody would miss her…

Yes. Just stay here, rest, you know you have earned it…

Her limbs were heavy, her eyes closed, and Jaina could feel her thoughts slipping away. It felt peaceful. It felt-

JAINA!

Someone shouted her name. The voice resounded in her head, shocked her out of the stupor caused by oxygen deficiency. Jaina drew on the Force more strongly, gathered her strength…

And catapulted herself forward.

Impact.

It was as if her mind had run straight into a brick wall. The mental equivalent of pain shot through her – a teeth-jarring impact that shook her to the bone. Clinging to her light saber, Jaina stumbled to her feet, dragging her legs out of the sand that was settling down all around her. Blinking in the harsh moon light, she reacted to her peaking danger sense and jumped, with the aid of the Force, almost two meters into the air. A long, muscled and spiked tail slammed into the ground just where she had come up a heartbeat ago and sprayed sand in every direction. Jaina threw herself backwards and into a salto, landed on her feet, spun around and slashed out with her now-activated light saber. The krayt dragon snarled viciously as the tip grazed its scaled. The nauseating scent of scarred keratin filled the air and mingled with the roars of panicked bantha and furious predator. Her exhaustion completely forgotten, Jaina launched herself at the animal. The trashing and tossing spindly wings, the razor-sharp teeth and the spike-tipped tail whirled madly and she ducked and dodged, without any coherent thought, leaving all her movements to instincts and training and the Force. The dragon roared, adding blinking talons to the lethal mix. Jaina dropped to the ground and dodged the jaws which, a second before, would have closed around her left arm. However, she could not avoid the follow-up of claws raking along her upper left arm. Cursing, she twisted to the side, gathered her momentum and launched herself at the dragon, slashing her light saber across its chest. The dragon reared up on its hind legs, a dark shadow against an even darker sky, and screeched wildly. Jaina changed gears instantly. She did not want to kill the predator. It was protecting its clutch, it was hungry and determined. But if it was kill or be killed, it meant she would have to fight. The krayt dragon was poised above her, ready to strike: tons of heavy bones and flesh, razor-sharp teeth and talons, spiked tail. Jaina emerged herself into the Force even deeper, unaware of her surroundings except for the angry opponent – and then a whisper at the edge of her consciousness made her dive to the side without delivering the killing blow. Instead, a red blaster bolt shot past her, so close she could almost sense the crackling heat of energy. It hit the dragon square in the jaw. The huge animal roared back one last time, its tail trashing furiously, and then collapsed with a thunderous sound.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Jaina stood, her light saber still activated and her breathing labored, and wearily regarded the animal. Its chest kept rising and falling in rapid succession: it was stunned and unconscious, but not dead. On the un-armored skin of its throat, charred scales indicated at the place where the stun bolt had hit. Distantly, she recognized the skill necessary to hit such a small spot on a moving target. In darkness, no less. Not talking of the fact that the bolt could have hit her… Jaina deactivated her light saber and turned away from the dragon and towards the men running towards her.

The first to reach her was the rider of the bantha directly in front of her. His words, though, where completely blurred. Maybe it was shock, maybe just exhaustion, but Jaina did not catch a word of what he was saying. When he grabbed her arm, she shook him off. It caused him to increase his chatter as he tugged at her even more insistently. Jaina snarled at him and he shrank backwards, wide-eyed and frightened. A mean kind of satisfaction ran through her, momentarily, and was immediately replaced with exhaustion.

"Solo."

Jag reached her, his blaster still in his hand. Of course. He probably had some kind of night vision mode integrated into his helmet. Since his face was hidden, she only saw herself in the reflection of his visor.

"Is it out?"

"Out cold."

He shook his head. "Damn."

"You could have kriffin' killed me." She was too tired to even raise her voice, but her message got across.

Jag regarded her, calmly. "It was a stun round. And you dodged it."

"Well, that definitely makes me feel better."

The pain in her left arm suddenly became reality, sharp and pronounced. Tiredly, Jaina shook her head. "Well, whatever. Thanks, I guess."

A sharp call from the other end of the caravan reminded the onlookers that the night was not young anymore, and that they had to put a distance between the Wastes and themselves. One after the other, the people trickled away, climbing the dune once more. The moon hung low. Jaina stood, the cold of the desert night suddenly blowing right through her. Her shoulder ached. She smiled grimly, more to herself than to anyone else, and prepared to set off again.

"The journey is the reward, right?"

"Wait." Jag's hand closed around her arm. "Are you alright?"

Pain flashed through her, sharply, and she couldn't help it: she flinched. Jag froze, his hand still outstretched to where she had torn her arm out of his grasp. Hurt flashed in his eyes, intensely, and disappeared again as his features took on his usual, impenetrable mask. Jaina couldn't see it, since he was still wearing his helmet. But she knew. There was no way denying it, not anymore. It had been the tiniest whisper of a voice, in the beginning, a thin thread of emotions picked up by her. She could have ignored it then, could have forgotten about it. But then this strange kind of mind-meld during the fight with the Tusken Raiders, and now, again: even in her completely exhausted state Jaina could feel him. And it wasn't a good feeling, not at all. Jag was Force-blind, how was it that she could sense him like that? How was it she sometimes knew exactly what he thought, what he wanted to say? It wasn't normal, and it certainly wasn't right. And it scared her to hell.

Before further explanations could take root in her mind, Jaina pushed every thought on Jagged Fel and her sudden attunement to him from her mind and, at the same time, prayed she wouldn't ever have to deal with it. Maybe it would just go away. Right now, she had other things to take care of. Because she was so tired, and because she didn't want him to believe she had moved away because he had touched her, she told him the truth.

"No. Sorry. It got my arm. Just a flesh wound, I can manage."

Wordlessly, Jag took her other arm and led her away from the body of the unconscious krayt dragon. He tugged down her cloak carefully and took in the damage. Jaina turned her head: in the light of the moon, she could only make out two deep gouges in her skin. The blood was only slowly starting to clot, sticking the material of her clothes to her skin. She held her breath when Jag eased it away with a gentleness that did not fit the fierce, aloof behavior he mostly displayed. It was one of the things she had loved in him: the way he could be gentle, unbelievably kind, with things he regarded as precious. A slight pang of regret – of something – rose in her chest. She was exhausted, she supposed, and weary of being suspicious and distant. Jag bandaged her upper left arm and watched as Jaina tugged down her shirt again and wrapped herself into her cloak. Her arm burned like it was on fire.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Wordlessly, they climbed the dune, side by side. If Jag watched out for her especially, he did not give it away. Far, far to the east, the first glow of morning began to color the horizon.

Valia, Jag and she accompanied the caravan for another three hours. When they were safely out of the Jundland Wastes, they took their leave. As a thanks, Salim A'hayun not only gave them a good amount of provisions and water but, as Valia summarized, also recognized the debt he was in towards the Jedi, the bounty hunter and the desert runner.

"And it's always nice to have someone indebted to you, especially when he is in such a practical position."

Jaina had drawn on the Force since they had left the Wastes in order to keep alert and steady. Valia had seemed to gather her energy, as usual, straight from their surroundings, while Jag probably ran on pure arrogance. No, she corrected herself absentmindedly. On determination. Finally, at noon, Valia sighed.

"Let's camp."

Jaina helped to set up the small, make-shift tents and waited until Jag gave an all clear, and then she collapsed onto her thin bed roll. Her arm still pounded, but she pushed the pain aside. She just needed to rest. Sleep came noiselessly, pulling her under and, mercifully, not sending her any nightmares.