A/N: Thank you to colbyshere2008 and greenmulberry for reading and reviewing this story. Your input means a lot to me. More internal monologue on Jaina's side here, or is it more of an internal dialogue? Either way, thanks a lot! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, too. We're moving towards the end: two more chapters left.

sword of the jedi

In the darkness that was all-encompassing, someone called out her name.

I name you the Sword of the Jedi.

The voice wasn't loud, wasn't scary. Quiet and familiar, it nevertheless still sliced through the darkness like the sword she was would have cut through butter.

Jaina flinched.

She didn't want to remember, didn't want to be reminded: but the voice wouldn't go away. With it came the memory: Uncle Luke, his glacier-blue eyes warm and full of love. She fought, but the image wouldn't go away. Jag had said the two of them were alike, but she had denied the thought frantically. Because there was nothing Jaina Solo believed in more than in the goodness and the love that was her uncle's Force presence in her mind, and because being compared to him seemed like a sacrilege. She wasn't good, she wasn't kind and she sure as hell wasn't a protector. She didn't care for the galaxy, didn't care for the beings in it. She just wanted to stop running, stop hiding, to punish those who had given her and her family nothing but trouble for the past decades.

Jaina, you are my twin. If we stand together nothing will ever stand in our way…

She was done with the Light Side. She would go find her brother, and together they would rule the galaxies and plunge them into darkness. She would not allow herself to be chased and hunted and stretched thin any longer. She would smite those who looked down on her, would bring despair to those who had committed treason towards the New Jedi Order. She would -

Be calm, little one.

The Force signature was very, very faint and so very, very soothing. It ate at the darkness that was everywhere, in her heart and her mind and that surrounded her like a second skin. Suddenly, it felt poisonous to her when heartbeats before she had wanted to embrace it, had embraced it fully and entirely. Jaina felt sick to the core at the touch of the darkness around her. What was happening here? What-

You are not alone. The whisper came from her own mind and echoed through the canyons of the Wastes, resounded from the winds all around her. Do not give in, child of light. It came from everywhere: from the sky surrounding her, from the rocks and the sand and from deep within the ground underneath her feet.

Tatooine, Jaina thought hazily. Tatooine, and something else. Silent and familiar, but not Uncle Luke's calm presence. An image flickered in front of her eyes – sand-colored hair, a reckless grin. Ani? There was no answer but a warm sense of welcome. And then her world was plunged into abrupt darkness again, so all-encompassing she gasped and tried to cling to something, anything, but there was nothing there to save her. Jaina fell, and fell, and fell. She felt tears stream down her face, freezing on their way down her cheeks and leaving behind burning trails. Clinging to a thin thread of something she had no words for, Jaina fought. Oh Jacen, Jacen my brother, was this what you saw? And she fell for what seemed an eternity, fell until she wasn't falling anymore, and when she lifted her eyes there was nothing all around her except for the weak, flickering light in the darkness that was Jaina Solo in a galaxy full of darkness.

Sword of the Jedi.

Her uncle's voice again now; familiar, beloved. You shall be blessed for the peace that you bring to others. There had been grief in his face she remembered suddenly. He had known the title he had bestowed upon her was no easy burden. You did what had to be done. Her mother's words, so full of love and sorrow they had threatened to tear down Jaina's walls. She had clung to them: it was the only thing she had had. She had betrayed her twin, but she had saved the galaxy, And that has to count for something, doesn't it? Allana, so small, so sweet and precious.

Always you shall be in the front rank, a burning brand to your enemies, a brilliant fire to your friends. Yours is a restless life, and never shall you know peace, though you shall be blessed for the peace that you bring to others.

"Jaina."

Uncle Luke. He just stood there, calm as he pleased, and looked at her. Her mother, when Jaina returned from the mission to Mykr, when she had burned with darkness at the loss of both of her brothers. Don't do anything Luke wouldn't do. Because when it came to it Leia Organa Solo trusted him, trusted him more than she trusted herself. Because she was his twin. And somehow Jaina had shared these feelings, even if she hadn't known at that time: It was as if his unshakable trust in her alone could stop her from falling.

"You-"

His physical appearance was so abrupt, so sudden, that she couldn't find any words. First it was all darkness and abandonment, and then it was light and she wasn't alone anymore. There he was: brown Jedi robes, blond hair threaded with silver, clean-shaven, with all-knowing blue eyes and a painfully familiar smile.

"I'm sorry, Jay."

Only two people, independent of each other, had ever called her that. She wanted to run to him, cling to him and feel his faith in her, his unshakable trust that there was a way.

"You're sorry?" Jaina exploded instead. "Well, let me tell you: sorry doesn't cut it in the least!"

"You're angry," Uncle Luke observed. As a child, she had sometimes hated him for the calm demeanor with which he countered her anger. It had made her feel small and insignificant. When growing older she had come to see it was his way of prompting her on, to give her an opportunity to tell him what she thought and felt. And she loved him for it, but right now…

"Don't pretend you know what I think and feel," she said, heatedly, and pointed a finger at him. "I'm in the middle of the sithing desert on a planet so far off the Trade Routes that it's barely known by name in the Core. I've been running after a Dark Jedi for the past weeks. I have to deal with an annoyingly all-knowing guide and a bounty hunter who wants my prey dead. I've fought pirates and sithing krayt dragons just trying to do what you asked me to. I've done what you ordered me to do almost my entire life, and you don't even deign to tell me that there's a kriffin' DARK SIDE NEXUS out here? What in the name of the Force were you thinking?"

A smile stretched over the Grand Master's face. It made him look a dozen of years younger. "You sound just like your mother."

That took some of the wind out of her sails. Jaina sighed and dropped to the ground. (Golden sand, soft and almost feather-like. The sun was comfortably warm. Not Yavin, definitely not Coruscant.)

"Where are we, either way?"

"This here?" Luke dropped next to her, leaning back on his hands, and blinked towards the suns. Two suns, Jaina realized. "Tatooine, of course."

Jaina snorted. "Yeah, of course."

"An idealized version," he amended. "Years and distance do tend to… embellish… certain memories."

There was a house in the distance, Jaina realized, and she started to understand. But the moisture farm her uncle had grown up on was small and neat, nothing like the wind- and weather-battered farm houses she had seen, and the wind carried the scent of jungle and rain, of cinnamon and spices and something else distinctly sweet (hot chocolate?), of fighter fuel and machine oil and brushed metal. In a fit of stubbornness, she decided not to ask the obvious questions. As it was, it already felt like a breach of his privacy.

(She had the distant feeling Mara would be there, too, just behind one of the dunes or in the house, out of sight but there. It always had been like this: She'd been able to feel her Master's presence through her uncle, and the other way round.)

Luke sat up again and fixed his serious, blue eyes on her. But he didn't say anything, waited for her to start.

"What?" Jaina snapped at him, impatient. "We're just going to sit here all day?"

"I doubt that," he said, mildly. "We do not have all day. You have the right to be angry with me, Jaina. I knew what it would cost you, and still I inflicted it all on you. Your burden is even heavier than mine, it seems. Sometimes I forget that even though you received the proper education it would not be easier for you than it was for me."

He was right: Jaina was positively furious. It wasn't a new development, no recent change. She had been very angry for a very long time.

"You're sithing right," she said. "It's not easy. It never is. Sometimes I don't even know whether I want it to be easy. But I wouldn't mind some peace of mind now and then, you know? And you've made it damn hard to have even that."

At his expression she almost stopped, but then barreled on.

"I'm not blaming it all on you, Uncle Luke. It's… It's just. It's all of this. I know Mom and Dad loved us… loved me. But they were never there, always on one mission or the other, and then they brought us to the Academy. And we loved it there, I know, but sometimes I wonder if all of this had happened if we'd just… I don't know… Had grown up on the Falcon, together with Mom and Dad… And Chewie. Maybe we couldn't have stopped the Yuuzhan Vong invasion. But it might have gone differently. Ani…" She swallowed. "You sent us there, Uncle Luke. You sent us to Mykr. And I know you didn't want to. But Ani… He's gone. He'll never come back. And Jacen, too…"

Now, she stopped. Closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Continued speaking without opening her eyes again.

"How could they do this to us? To me? They were my brothers. They left me. Dad left Mom when she needed him most. And you named me the Sword… It's like a curse, isn't it? Maybe, if I hadn't been named that, maybe then…" A thought occurred to her and she snapped open her eyes, her fury blazing again. "And Jag! That stupid idiot! He left, too, we were so young, did he really expect me to leave all of you behind and follow him to Csilla? We could have worked something out, maybe, I-"

She caught Luke's glance – amusement? How did he dare – and snapped her mouth shut audibly, embarrassed beyond words.

"Never mind that."

He didn't comment, didn't judge, and she loved him for it even though she still was furious. "Go on."

"Borleias. The Swarm War. Mandalore. Jacen." Jaina hung her head, exhausted and weary. "Why did it have to be me?"

When he didn't answer first, she waited, looking at him from the corner of her eyes. Uncle Luke sat perfectly still, glancing out at the horizon. Then he said quietly: "I could give you objective reasons, Jay, but you know them already. I wish I hadn't named you Sword of the Jedi. I wish you wouldn't have had to go through the hardships you experienced. I wish Ani was still alive, and Jacen hadn't fallen. I wish everything could be different. I really do."

He didn't apologize for anything and he didn't try to explain, either. Reasons, more often than not, were excuses and nothing more.

"Are you saying this as the Grand Master," Jaina asked, "Or as my uncle?"

"I'm saying this as who I am," he answered, gently. "And as the one I choose to be."

We choose the person we want to be.

"This conversation is moot," Jaina said, exhausted but without malice. "So much like the discussions at the Temple. It's like there are no clear answers to my question, like, ever."

"What is your question?"

Jaina thought about it and found she had no concrete answer. Maybe that was part of the problem, here.

"Why?" She finally said. "I guess the question is why. Why me? Why that way? Why Jacen? Why us? Why the Jedi, why the Light Side, why the fighting? Why?"

"That's a lot of questions." When she glared at him, he smiled. "Do you want to know a secret?"

Exasperated, she shook her head. "Shoot."

Luke leaned towards her, serious. "I am twice as old as you are, and I still don't know the answers to the very same questions." He shook his head slowly. "There are two ways to explain, I guess, but both explanations of course will never suffice. And other people might give you different ones. For one, we can say the Force has its reasons for everything that happens. It doesn't explain anything, of course. Why are we alive? Why do we fight, even though it seems useless? If it has the answers, it never gave us any."

He glanced into the distance, suddenly lost in thought. Jaina wondered what he was thinking of. Not what, her brain supplied. Whom, perhaps.

"What is the other possibility?" She asked, softly.

Luke shook himself back to reality. (Not exactly reality, Jaina supposed, but it was just as well.) "Why," he repeated her question. "I don't know. But maybe we are born to live, and to look for our own, personal answer. Maybe each and every being is alive in order to look for the one thing he cannot live without."

Maybe, Jaina thought, numbly. And maybe the Force was her guide to find exactly this: her answer. Maybe. Jaina-the-unborn-child had felt the Force through her mother. Jaina-the-infant had learned to accept it. Jaina-the-teenager had tried to control it, Jaina-the-almost-woman had used it, unconsciously, and had almost fallen with it. The Force was what had given her life. It would take it again if it saw fit to do so. Until then, Jaina had to live in a way that made it possible for her to accept her choices: in a way she could approve of when she looked back. It meant her decisions were her own, as were her mistakes and her fears.

Her fear.

"It just won't go away," she whispered and dropped her head. The terror was there, always close these days. Jag had left. Chewie and Ani had left. Jacen had left her, too, in a way, Zekk had Taryn, now, Mara had been injured badly: who would be next? Jaina lived in a state of perpetual fear of being left behind, and she couldn't help it. The nightmares were proof of it. Jacen had only been a trigger, not the cause. "I'm so afraid. I just can't-"

There is no fear, only the Force.

Jaina's mind formed the familiar words almost by itself. She looked up to see Luke smiling at her. His expression held both love and grief – and a trust in her that went far beyond Jaina's trust in herself. As if she could do anything, be anything, withstand anything, simply because he believed in her.

"Human beings are not meant to be alone," he said. "I know you are the Sword. I have regretted placing this fate on you again and again, but I cannot change the past no matter how hard I try. Still; you are not alone. There are people who love you very much. Come back home, Jay."

He didn't say: be strong for them. He didn't tell her how she was supposed to gain strength. He just leaned down to her and kissed the top of her head, like he had when she was a little kid and nightmares had kept her awake. On nights like those she had crawled into his lap in his small office deep within the Temple on Yavin. And, as it had been when she was small, she found the touch gave her strength. This was far from the answer she had wanted to hear, she realized, in fact, it was not an answer at all. But it was peaceful and warm and Luke's presence was familiar and full of love and trust – for her, in her. Maybe Jacen had fallen because he hadn't felt that trust, or he had fallen because he had seen the horrible darkness that was the vast galaxy, or maybe he had had even different reasons. But Jacen's reasons had been his, and she had her own. And yes. Maybe she was irritable and impatient and snappy. Maybe she was hasty and acted too quickly and was too forceful. Maybe she had nightmares and maybe she felt terribly, terribly alone at night and maybe she missed someone who held her and told her she wasn't alone and never would be. Maybe she would never have a family, or even children of her own. Maybe she would run through the rest of her life as she had run until now: without a pause, without a clear answer. Always trying to fulfil expectations others placed in her, and failing. Failing ever so often. But she had done many good things, too. Made a few people laugh, angered even more. Smiled at strangers, played with children. Saved a few people, precious few, lost many more. But that was what her life was like, she supposed. And she always would have people who-

Come back home.

And as Jaina made peace with herself, Tatooine's presence retreated and Uncle Luke disappeared.

The darkness returned, but this time, Jaina was prepared. She threw everything she had against it: her love for her family, her anger at Ani and Jacen for having left her like that. Her trust in her uncle, the person who was most like her and the complete opposite. Her sadness, her hopelessness and her despair, and the firm belief that there was a meaning to all of this, a sense in the universe. There has to be more than everything. Her trust in her family, in her brothers, her friends, even her trust in Jag. Jag. And her parents, her uncle, her aunt, Ben and Allana – they all loved her, and needed her to come home.

The darkness was strong. It pulled at her and tugged, forced and blackmailed. Flashes of images in front of her eyes: being reunited with her twin, using the Force to call back her baby brother, descending on criminals and corrupt politicians and slave traders and restoring order. Living in a world in which everyone was happy and safe, because she had the power to not only protect them from harm but to eliminate the threat that was a constant reminder in her old life. Holding in her hand the key to a different future, one in which all the ones she loved were together and nobody left. Nothing changed. A constant, happy life in which she'd never be alone again-

No.

Jaina didn't want this.

We're the same, sister mine. Your fears are mine, and your future is the same as mine, as well.

No.

Her mother's loving smile, her father's arm around her shoulders. Luke's faith, Mara's trust, Zekk's friendship, Tenel Ka's pain. Ben, Allana, Tahiri. Jaina drew her strength from thoughts of the people she loved and fought with everything she was.

A flash of blue eyes, a reckless smile – the ghost of a touch.

You are not alone.

There was no transition whatsoever.

Gasping, she resurfaced, the impenetrable darkness shattering into a myriad of pieces. All around her, the desert was asleep but the sky was alive with stars. It was a silver darkness, not pitch-black; soft, not screaming loneliness. And among the stars stood the three moons, full and bright. Already they were overlapping at their edges.

Jag was holding Valia, her upper body in his arms, but his gaze kept moving over to Jaina. She had no idea how much time had passed but when she turned slightly to meet his eyes something flashed over his face – surprise, relief, something – and she knew it had been less time than it had felt like, and more than she had thought. She was at his side the next instant, briefly brushing his shoulder and jerking her hand back the next second in terror. She hadn't intended to touch him, just had wanted – needed – ah, sithing bantha podoo, whatever it was it could wait.

"How is she?"

Valia's eyes were open wide but didn't see anything. Sweat coated her skin. Jag had tilted back her head, perhaps she had been convulsing – even now, her limbs were trembling minutely.

"She was worse just now," Jag answered, curtly. "Her pulse is slowing down again. For a minute I thought-" His lips pressed into a tight line.

"How long?"

"About five minutes, I guess." He avoided her eyes.

Jaina bent down to feel the desert runner's pulse and then touched her own forehead to Valia's. She had only little experience when it came to healing but the woman was Force-sensitive, in a way, so perhaps-

There was no need. At the brush of Jaina's fingers the woman jerked, her eyes flying close and open again, and when she looked up there was life in them again.

"Kriffin' Sith-hell," she sighed. "That was bad. It never was this bad before."

Stunned, Jaina jerked back. "You knew about this? And didn't tell us? Are you mental? Did you want to get us killed?!"

Valia used Jag's shoulder to pull herself into an upright position, clearly too weak to do so by herself. Her voice, however, sounded just like always: a bit annoyed, a bit angry, and greatly amused. "I thought you could deal with it, Jedi."

Jaina just stared.

Then, cursing, she jumped up. Jag caught her arm, his eyes dark.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah." She brushed his hand aside, her fingers lingering for a heart-beat and then jerking back. His gaze was unreadable, but his emotions were clear. Jaina couldn't deal with it right now and wasn't even sure she ever wanted to deal with it. Wanting to touch him, wanting to be touched – and, at the same time, fearing his closeness, she started to pace instead. At least the plateau was large enough. Jag watched the desert runner, impassive. Valia leaned back against the canyon wall and rummaged around.

"Where's my bag – ah, there. I think we should get some sleep now. It seems the danger has passed." A sharp glance at Jaina: "I think it will be safe from today on. Seems like her trust in you wasn't in vain, girl."

Jaina stopped in front of her, raked both her hands through her hair and cursed one last time. Then she closed her eyes and took deep, calming breaths. Somewhere in the back of her mind her uncle chuckled, and Tatooine hummed in the silent recognition that was her smile. Force-blast them.

"I would offer to take a watch shift," Valia said, her voice suddenly tired. She looked like she had aged years in just one night. "But I fear I have to rest. Will the two of you be fine?"

"We won't kill each other, in case you're wondering," Jaina bit out.

Valia just sighed. "No, I guess not. Good night. Please do try not to attract any lumenors." She slid down and burrowed into her blanket until only stripes of her silver hair remained visible.

Jag's eye brows rose into his hair line. "What are lumenors?"

Jaina almost laughed, a reaction probably provoked by stress, pressure and exhaustion. "Fairy tales. They say the lights one can sometimes see in the desert at night are lumenors that lead wanderers astray. Once you follow one of them, you never return."

"Just when you think you've seen and heard everything," Jag murmured. "This planet keeps getting weirder every day."