Jaina-Elessar: In response to your review on "Die Another Day", I'm afraid I had to shut down Phoenix. Like I said in my bio, I want to transfer back to my original writing soon, especially since I'm getting to that point where I have to start thinking about gulp my future career. Phoenix was one of my babies, and extensively planned out, but only a sixth finished. Always, on the other hand, has always been the one that flows the easiest, and the most popular, not to mention almost finished. Sorry :( If you ever want to see what I had planned for the rest, e-mail me, and I'll try to cobble together the basic idea from my notes, and send it to you :)

Previously on "Always I: Dejarik"…

Brakiss and a Dark Jedi named Devnos (who's rather important in the sequel, btw) had a chat—about Jaina and Onyx. Brakiss implicated that he wanted his ambitious, would-be future Darkest Knight to do away with Jaina. -Onyx and Jaina got in an argument about a distasteful outfit that Onyx wanted to parade Jaina around in; she refused, and was punished for it.
-Onyx left Jaina in an unused training room and headed off to a banquet…more than a little unsettled by his guilt for what he did to Jaina. He distracted himself with a dancing slave named Sanar Klis (also very important, and much more immediately so), who bears a striking resemblance to Jaina.
-Jaina was attacked by a group of men (sent out by Devnos)
-Onyx felt Jaina's pain through their bond, and raced off to save the day. He came, he saw, he furied, he conquered. But Devnos wasn't at the scene of the crime, and Onyx doesn't know about his involvement, or Brakiss' desire to kill off Jaina.
-Onyx briefly let "Zekk" loose to heal and help Jaina. He and Jaina had a talk, smoochies followed, but then just when Jaina was starting to relax, Zekk once again disappeared, leaving only Onyx

Chapter Nine: Complications
"Jaina Solo," Brakiss said, measuring each word, "is not dead, Klis. Why is that?"

Devnos remained casually seated, despite the menace that his emperor presented. "Would you have wanted Onyx to know your plans to undermine him?" he asked, almost absently.

Even with his Palpatine holo-mask off, the emperor's glare was a terrifying sight to behold.

Devnos didn't flinch. "Your Darkest Knight appeared on the scene," he said after a moment, sitting up a little more. "Quite in a rage, I might add: He slaughtered my men."

"And I suppose you were frightened," Brakiss sneered.

"The girl was badly injured, and those men had a fondness for neck wounds. There are no unfortunate consequences that won't become null in due time." His flint-grey eyes met Brakiss' orange ones. "Lord Onyx will be taken care of, I assure you."

Briefly, the emperor scrutinized his left-hand man. "Sanar Klis is your sister, isn't she?" He was gratified to see Devnos freeze. "Such a pretty thing. Imagine, though, if someone mistook her for Jaina Solo…?"

Devnos then did what was either monumentally stupid, or incredibly brave: He curled his lip at, and then turned his back to, his emperor, and stalked out of the room.

Jaina woke slowly, the foggy remnants of sleep clinging to her, reluctant to let her leave. Instinctively she curled toward something, then stopped when she realized no one was there. Brown eyes blinked open in confusion. Why had she thought someone…?

It came to her in a sudden burst of clarity—Zekk's confession, the kisses, and then…

She jumped—well, flopped might be a more accurate description—out of the bed, landing awkwardly, only to feel her spine explode in agony. Her knees buckled beneath her as she felt something close to the physical version of the pain she had experienced upon Jacen's death. Somewhere, deep within her muddled brain, she found the strength to keep from screaming but still a whimper managed to escape.

Reaching out with the Force she tried to find Zekk, only to run into a wall of Darkness. As the hopeless misery of her situation sunk in, Jaina remained in a crumpled heap, stunned. Life as Onyx's slave while perfectly healthy was degrading and painful, but almost bearable. Slavery while recovery from a back injury would be…she shuddered at the images and ideas her mind conjured.

When she attempted to stand she found she couldn't. Horror washed over her in tidal waves as she realized she could no longer feel her legs.

Jaina Solo, Jedi Knight and slave to the Darkest Knight of the New Empire, was paralysed.

Sanar entered the room quietly, the images of Onyx and the other woman still imprinted in her mind.

"I don't recall saying you could leave," the cold voice of Onyx said. "So perhaps you could explain why you were returning when you never should have left."

Sanar Klis had had plenty of experience dealing with dark men. She straightened defiantly and turned to face him. He was perfect, as always—dark hair sleek and pulled back, emerald eyes igniting fire in her system. His plain, dark clothing was uncreased and close-fitting enough to see that he was well-muscled.

"You were otherwise engaged, my Lord."

Lord Onyx's face remained stony, but she felt a flicker of something—confusion? curiosity?—in his Force presence as he studied her. "And how was I 'otherwise engaged'?"

How stupid did he think she was? And why even make her say it? Larifx, it wasn't as if she expected him to be monogamous to a dancer. "You were…sleeping, my Lord." With another woman pulled against you as if you never wanted to let her go, she added silently.

Onyx frowned slightly as he realized that the slave was hiding something. "I see." He continued to study her for several moments before saying, "I was not myself at the time so I will excuse it, this time. In the future, however you are not permitted to do anything without my consent."

In the future? she wondered. Did that mean she was to stay? And did she want to, now that she had more than a sneaking suspicious that he was not at all the man she had hoped? "Of course, my Lord," she agreed nonetheless, some of her earlier confidence returning as she gave him a slow, seductive smile. "My sole purpose in life is to please you."

An appreciative gleam entered his eyes (Men, she thought flatly). "Perhaps," he suggested as he stepped closer to her, "it is time you proved that."

Moving almost at reflex, her fingers slowly undid the top buttons of her blouse and she angled her head back. "As my Lord wishes," she breathed, just before his mouth came crashing down upon hers.

Trapped and alone in her room, Jaina sunk into self-pity. Her current situation—not to mention the last five years—was bad enough.

But now, not only did she have to deal with Onyx, the death of her brothers, and her enslavement, she had to listen as said-Sith lord—in the body of the man she loved, no less—screwed a female he probably didn't even know. I am so writing an angry letter to the Force if I ever get out of here. "That which doesn't kill you makes you stronger" my ass.

"It could be worse, you know," Kyp's voice suddenly said. "You could be in the same room, forced to watch them. Heck, it could be you Onyx is screwing."

"Thanks, Kyp," she said dryly. "That really helped."

He smirked and sat across from her so that she could see him properly. "What are friends for?"

"Well, I thought they were to lift your spirits and comfort you, but you've changed my mind. Clearly, they are meant to lecture you and make you feel worse."

His eyebrows rose. "Lecture you?" he repeated innocently. "I've never lectured you! Shake my head in disappointment—definitely; insult you—often. Yell at you for being stupid—sure—but lecture you?"

"Then I guess you're not a very good friend."

"Well," he considered, "when you put it that way…"

And so he lectured her.

(Jaina's POV)

"What were you thinking—telling Onyx you love him? Are you insane?" Kyp hissed. "You practically shoved the information in his face! No wonder you're paralysed!"

My temper sparked. "I told Zekk, not Onyx—but that has nothing to do with my paralysis! Sithspit, Durron! It's not like my life can get that much worse. Why—"

"You think it can't get worse?" he demanded, aghast. "Newsflash, Jay: It can. Onyx knows. He knows you love Zekk and would die before hurting him. Onyx and Zekk are two halves of one person no matter how hard you argue against the idea. You can't kill one without killing the other. Onyx will use that against you!"

I was quiet for a long moment, contemplating what he said. Was Kyp right? Had I been wrong to tell Zekk? But it had seemed so… right. The moment the words passed my lips, my heart felt lighter. The second I felt his arms around me I knew I was meant to be there. When his lips pressed against mine… "Are you sure Onyx knows?"

"If he doesn't, it's a miracle," Kyp stated flatly. "Zekk knows what Onyx knows, and vice versa."

"But that's not true," I protested. "For a long time Zekk didn't know what was going on, so what if—"

"Zekk didn't know what was happening because he was weak—"

"He is not weak!"

"—but Onyx is strong enough to be conscious of what is going on," he continued, not heeding her interruption. "Zekk's not strong enough to keep Onyx out. The only way Zekk's coming back is if you're dead!"

His words hung in the air between us and I knew by the expression on Kyp's face that he had never meant to reveal that. My heart chilled and my breath caught. It took me several long moments to recover and when I did, I pulled out my fireworks.

"How do you know? You're not the Force! You're not even the Force's confidant! You have no idea how strong Zekk is—I do! He's brave, tender, strong, and more powerful than you know!"

Outside there was a sudden hush and I froze, my blood going from chilled to frozen in moments. Onyx and his slave had been too busy and loud to hear my conversation with Kyp… hadn't they?

My answer came quickly, in the form of Onyx blowing the door in with the Force, not bothering with the lock or handle.

Acting upon impulse, my eyes skittered away from him. Considering the circumstances, I doubted he would be…well, in formal attire. Or, for that matter, dressed at all. "Ever heard of knocking, Onyx?" I growled.

He didn't grace my pointed question with a reply. Instead, he stalked across the room and ripped at a chunk of my hair until I was looking up at him. My eyes skimmed over his physique before I could stop them.

Well, at least he decided to wear pants upon barging in, I thought wryly. Not, of course, that his bare, muscled chest wasn't more than enough to distract me… Stangitall, why does he have to be so Sithspawn gorgeous?

"Get up." He accented the command by tugging my hair upward.

Cursing my immobile legs, I remained as I was.

This time, he yanked my hair so hard I whimpered. "Get up, Jedi Solo, before I release my wrath." He yanked again. Stars blinked into existence in my vision and a cry of pain was ripped from my throat.

Perhaps he realized that there was something wrong, because I felt him Force-scan my body.

When he hissed—in pleasure, surprise or horror, I didn't know— I swallowed hard.

So Onyx knew. My mind offered up hundreds of terrible possibilities but only there was only one thought that made me want to die:

I was helpless.

(Sanar's POV)

I moaned in soft protest when Onyx ripped himself away from me the second time in less than twenty-four hours. It seemed he was making a habit of it and the thought was frustrating and confusing. Had I lied to myself beyond reasonable measure when I thought Onyx was the one I always waited for (wait for me, beloved)?

But I had been so sure that I saw something in the way he looked at me. Not to mention that the physical similarities to My One were uncanny. He had to be…

In another room I heard yelling, arguing, and a confusion that mirrored my own feelings. I blinked as Onyx threw open the door to the side room and stormed in. After several moments – during which I heard more arguing and shouting – I followed him, pushing aside the memories I had of this room.

The scene before me caused my mind to reel in shock.

A woman was sprawled on the floor before Onyx, her jaw clenched, defiant to the pain that was radiating from her through the Force. Onyx had his hand entwined in her hair, staring down at her, an odd expression that looked like a mixture of anger, pain, surprise and…something else on his perfect face. If I found that image strange, the next thing my eyes found was from another galaxy.

There, not far from the woman, was a man, surrounded by an ethereal blue glow. It took a moment for the fact that he was a real ghost to sink in. I had heard stories, of course—who hadn't?—but to find them true…

He had been handsome in life and remained so in death—or whatever you called his current state of being. His face was rugged and worn, telling of a hard life with little real joy. His dark hair—at least, I thought it was dark—was pulled back but several rebellious pieces had escaped the elastic and now hung in his face. He was tall and well-muscled, a fact that was obvious through even his…

I nearly jumped when I realized he wore the robes of a Jedi. A bitter taste entered my mouth at the very idea that I had been admiring a Jedi. The Jedi had destroyed so much…and now they were invincible?

As if he heard my thoughts, the Jedi's gaze turned to me, a surprised air about him. "You can see me," he said, as if it was one of the bigger shocks of his life.

I glared at him. "Of course I can see you, dog! What do you think I am – blind?"

His mouth opened to reply, but it snapped shut when Onyx spoke.

"Paralysed, Jedi Solo?" There was an odd mixture of horror, surprise and amusement in his voice.

At first I thought maybe he was talking to the ghost, but instead the woman answered in an icy voice. "It would seem so, Onyx. I wonder, was my paralysis caused by you or those trainees of yours that attacked me after you finished beating me bloody."

Onyx's Force presence darkened in anger. "You were punished for your disobedience, Jedi Solo, and your punishment was mild indeed. Be thankful I left you with your life." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "You are never to address me in such a manner again."

Solo's Force presence sneered. "Why not, Onyx?"

Onyx's hand, still caught in her hair, jerked up, pulling viciously at her scalp. To her credit, Solo did not make even the slightest sound of pain. The ghost, however, looked ready to rip Onyx to shreds.

"I would watch my words, if I were you, Jedi," Onyx hissed. "I am your only friend in this palace."

Solo glared up at him. "Funny, in my experience friends protect each other from harm instead of inflicting it."

His fingers released her hair suddenly and Solo slumped to the floor again. Only then was my presence noticed and Onyx spun on me. "What!"

I swallowed but refused to be cowed. "What is going on, my Lord?"

Onyx's eyes flitted to the woman for a moment before returning to me. "This does not concern you. Leave us – now!" he snapped.

"You always did have such a way with people, Onyx," Solo said suddenly, her tone sickly sweet. "Now, maybe if you throw around some Dark electricity, she'll be forever your slave. Or, rather," she corrected disdainfully, looking me over, "even more of your slave."

Onyx turned from me and sneered at her. "As are you, Solo."

Solo scowled. "Only in the physical sense, Onyx. You do not own my mind, spirit or soul as you do her." She tipped her head in my direction. "And soon I will not be your slave at all."

"A poetic speech," Onyx mocked. "But who ever said I wanted your mind, spirit or soul?"

"Actions speak louder than words. No one had to; it's made clear by the fact that you keep my look-alike around."

Onyx Force-pushed Solo but it was too late. Startled by her words, I studied Solo more closely. At first, I could see no physical differences between her and myself and I began to panic. Surely Onyx wouldn't… Solo had to be wrong. It was…impossible…

The ghost, perhaps sensing my distress, took several steps in my direction. "There are several differences," he assured me. "You'll pick them up over time."

My jaw tensed and my eyes narrowed, not only at the Jedi ghost's gall to say such a thing, but at the implication that I would be spending more time around Solo.

Ironically, the words of a holo-vid came to my mind:

There ain't room enough for the both of us…

(Jaina's POV)

I watched the slave, watched her take it all in; the way her expression hardened and the way she glared at me. And I watched as she regained some of her confidence and slinked over to Onyx. My blood boiled as she pressed herself against him, but I kept my face expressionless. Why should it matter to me if some—willing—slave thought she owned Onyx? I knew the truth—Onyx belonged only to the Darkness within himself.

If the girl wanted to claim Zekk, however... My hand drifted toward my hip before I remembered that Onyx still kept my lightsaber. Feeling the loss acutely - the memory was a painful reminder of my vulnerability - I instead clenched my hand into a fist. As surely as I belonged to Zekk, he belonged to me. I'd like to see the slave girl just try to come between us.

"Come with me, my Lord," the slave whispered and I felt the undeniable urge to gag rise up within me. In that moment I didn't know whether to pity the girl, or beat her senseless.

Perhaps some of my anger and disdain seeped through my shields because Onyx's eyes never left mine as he nodded. "We shall speak of your..." I thought I saw a glint in his eyes as they raked over me, "...disability soon, Solo. Right now I find myself - distracted."

The slave smirked at me as if to gloat about how Onyx had chosen her over me. Even as I opened my mouth to warn her, Onyx's fingers pressed expertly against the pressure points on her neck and she slumped over. Onyx stared down at the slave's unconscious form for a moment before stepping over it carelessly so that there was less room between us. "Would you like to walk again?" he asked.

Uncertain of where this conversation was going to go, I did not reply at once, but looked for Kyp, only to find him gone. I frowned and turned back to find Onyx crouched on the floor in front of me. I pulled away but my legs weighed more than a bantha at the moment and I didn't get far.

"I asked you a question, Solo, one I command an answer to." He moved closer again and I shifted uncomfortably. He was too close.

"Onyx knows, Jay,"Kyp's voice echoed in my head ominously.

"Do you or do you not want to walk again?" he demanded.

I debated mentally for only a moment this time. "Obviously."

A small smile crept across his face and I shivered. There was something wrong with that smile... "Good," he purred, reaching out to stroke my cheek. His eyes darkened as I flinched and pulled away. Grabbing my chin forcefully, he glared into my eyes. "You want to walk again, Solo? I could take a very long time persuading the medics to care for Rebel scum."

I pulled out of his grasp and moved back until I was up against the wall, my anger burning like an open flame. I am not scum. I am not.

He chuckled and slid his fingers down my jaw and neck, and began to push the fabric of my shirt to the side, baring my shoulder. "No..." he murmured. "Not scum, Solo. But that is how all others see you. I am the only one who knows otherwise." As if to accentuate his point, he moved forward and nipped delicately at the skin of my neck.

Shaking with barely controlled fury now, I jerked away. Laughing out loud, he moved closer until the only things separating us were a few layers of clothing. "Do you not enjoy being touched?" he asked, his hands beginning to run down my arms and back up again. When I tried to push him back he used the Force to keep me firmly pinned to the wall.

"You want your legs to work again and I want you," he continued.

"I swear, Onyx, if you don't back off right now, you will not live to regret this." My voice was tight, not only with anger but - though I would deny it to my last breath - fear. I didn't know if I could back up my threat, but what were my other options? Certainly Onyx's "offer" was out of the question. But what...

Damn you Onyx for making me feel helpless! Growing more furious each second by Onyx and my fear - I'm a Solo! The word "fear" isn't in my vocabulary! - my breath came faster and my eyes met Onyx's in an enraged glare. I am a Solo. I am NEVER helpless!

Onyx, feeling my anger, raised an eyebrow and slid his hands down my side, his touch growing more and more intimate, more possessive, until I thought I would scream. "Don't touch me," I managed, grinding my teeth.

He should have stopped then, should have seen the warning flash in my eyes. He should have seen that I wasn't joking, should have seen the unadulterated rage that lurked within me.

But he didn't. Instead, he placed a hard kiss at the base of my neck.

My fury reached its peak.

"I said – back – off!" My hands pushed against his chest, backed by the Force. Onyx's body was hurdled across the room looking surprised but it wasn't enough to sate my fury. He had touched me, made me feel helpless and dirty, and ignored me when I ordered him to stop. He had taken so much from me already – my brothers, my life and my freedom – and then he tried to take my remaining innocence and pride.

Lessons, warnings, caution – all forgotten as Darkness brewed in my fingers and arced into him. Power that had lain dormant in my soul for too long swelled and was released. Onyx became everything I hated, all that had hurt me. He became Tamith Kai, Brakiss, Thrawn, the Empire, Hethrir, the abandonment of my mother, my aching, severed twin bond…

Oh sweet Force, Jacen!

The Darkness retreated and I clutched my hands close to my heart, my eyes wide as what I had done sank in. The memory of my promise to Jacen tore at my soul.

"Promise me something, Jaina."

"Anything."

"Don't ever touch the Darkness again. You're more powerful than you realize; and I don't want to survive the loss of my twin on top of Anakin's death."

"I…I'll try. I mean, I don't plan to."

"Promise me. Promise on Anakin's grave; on my life."

"I…promise."

Across the room, Onyx was panting hard, his pain flooding my senses as I burrowed my face in my hands. I didn't mean to! I never…it was just one push too many; I never would have touched the Darkness otherwise!

My self-defence was too weak even for me to believe and I hated myself for it. Note to self: I'm not destined to go into law.

A rumbling cackle, filled with malicious glee, alerted me of someone's – other than Onyx's and my own – presence in the room. Sometime when I hadn't been paying attention, someone must have come in and watched my Dark relapse. It took me a moment to recognize who it was:

Brakiss.

I raised my head slowly and was awarded by the "Emperor's" triumphant leer. "Well, young Solo." Brakiss shook his head in amazement. "You seem to have an affinity to the Dark side. I suppose we can be certain of who your real 'master' was now."

Does he mean Uncle Luke, Aunt Mara or Kyp? I wondered.

"I meant 'Master' Durron, of course. Only he could teach you so well in the Dark arts," Brakiss said smoothly, correctly reading my mind. "He seems to have a way of moulding apprentices to be much like him."

I felt cold to the centre of my being. Miko was not Kyp's fault, I wanted to scream but I was quiet. Considering Brakiss' occupation of choice – a Napoleon Sith Lord – he probably meant it as a compliment.

The thought was only slightly soothing.

Brakiss watched me steadily for a moment, that stupid, smug smirk of his playing over his features. It was then that I realized he was not wearing that grotesque holo-mask of his; not that there was an astonishing difference after so many years. Brakiss' face was beginning to show how using the Dark side constantly wore upon a being's body as well as their soul. It was disconcerting to try to match this figure with the youthful, handsome Imperial spy that had infiltrated the Jedi Academy years ago. While still far from the shrivelled figure of Palpatine, I didn't see modeling in his non-ruler-of-the-galaxy future. At least, not for anything other than "before" holos for plastic surgery and wrinkle cream. What the advertising company would do for the "after" holos, I hadn't a clue.

"Why is it," Brakiss said, turning away from me, "that you did not tell me of Miss Solo's turning, Lord Onyx?"

The Darkest Knight drew himself up, his chest muscles spasming erratically. I grimaced and looked away. I had done that. Me. Onyx's – and Zekk's – nerves were jumping all over the place because of me. It made me sick to my stomach.

"She only recently showed signs of turning," Onyx stated stiffly, the coldness in his voice enough to make me look up in surprise. From the way Onyx spoke of Brakiss I had assumed that he was Onyx's father figure. Why else would Onyx – or Zekk, however you wanted to think of it – commit himself wholly to Darkness? Clearly, psychology was out of my future as well.

"She surprised you," Brakiss accused, sounding positively gleeful. Abruptly, he became conciliatory. "I told you would this would happen, Onyx. She is too much for you to handle." The smirk he gave Onyx was triumphant. I could almost hear his 'na-na-na-na-na-na'. "Take her to Lab C348 to be fitted with a Force-suppressing collar at 0900 tomorrow."

He turned to me. "I'll be keeping a close eye on you. One wrong move and you'll find yourself part of my…" he grinned nastily and let his eyes sweep over me and I swore inwardly. What was it that made me so maddeningly irresistible to Imperials? "…court," he finished.

Rage and hatred rose and it took me a moment to realize that it was not my own, but Onyx's. "She is mine, Lord Emperor."

I breathed an inward sigh of relief. Who would have thought I'd ever be grateful for Onyx's possessiveness of me? But he wasn't going to hand me over to Brakiss easily, a factor that was saving me at the moment.

Brakiss glowered and I wondered if he would explode. I pursed my lips. It would be so hard to get goop a la Brakiss out of the carpet. Not to mention the chunks of him that would probably get on my bed and the other furniture. I mean, eww.

"We will see." Brakiss gave Onyx a last haughty glance before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

Onyx raised an eyebrow in my direction as if he expected me to thank him but my head dropped into my hands and I ignored him. A moment later, he left, leaving the slave behind, still crumpled on the floor. I was safe – from Brakiss and Onyx – for now, but the recent events gave me the clarity of mind to know something:

I'm running out of time.

(End of Jaina's POV)

Onyx left the room, his temper sparking ominously. How dare Brakiss attempt to interfere! As if I would ever willingly turn Jaina over to him!

And so, in his silent ranting, he did not notice the blackness that was beginning to creep into his vision.

Sanar woke quickly but quietly, a habit she had formed in the past few years. The floor she was lying on was carpeted, but not the soft, thick carpet she was used to since coming to the Imperial Palace. Instead, it was pushed down, as if it had been used for several years now and was not cleaned as often as the other carpets.

Realizing how inane it was for her to be comparing carpets, she rolled over, stretching out with the Force. Onyx was in the other room, that much she noticed immediately, but there was someone else nearby.

"You're awake," someone said suddenly. "I was beginning to wonder if Onyx had lost some of his finesse and pushed too hard."

Sanar recognized only then that the person speaking was "Jedi Solo." She sat up, hiding her disorientation from the other woman as best she could. "Lord Onyx," she corrected.

Solo rolled her eyes and began to drag her lower body toward Sanar. "You can call him that if you want, but I see no reason to put a title of respect in front of his name."

Sanar's eyes blazed. "You don't deserve to have him," she growled, forgetting for the moment that he wasn't the one she had thought him to be.

Solo stopped a foot away from Sanar and raised an eyebrow. "Who said I have him?"

Sanar snorted. "What do you think I am, an idiot?'

"You're the willing slave of a Sith Lord," Solo replied with a smirk. "What do you think my answer's going to be?"

Sanar buried the sting of the Jedi's words deep down, just as she buried all the many insults that had been thrown at her before.

"You prance – " Solo looked pointedly at her useless legs " – around as if you own the Imperial Palace and everything and everyone in it. Don't tell me you don't believe you have Lord Onyx," Sanar finished.

Solo laughed but her eyes were hard. "How can you survive being the pleasure slave of Onyx and still be so naïve? Nothing is that simple." She paused, then twisted toward the door. "Onyx!"

The Darkest Knight actually came upon Solo's call – something that surprised Sanar beyond further thought. What the hell is going on with these two?

"Onyx," Solo started lazily, "it seems that – " she glanced at Sanar. "What did you say your name was again?"

Sanar hadn't said her name, and felt like hitting Solo for asking something like that, but told the other woman anyway.

"Sanar," Solo murmured, before turning back to Lord Onyx. "It seems Sanar thinks I have a claim on you," the Jedi remarked.

Sanar's eyes closed for a moment in humiliation. Thank you so much, Solo, for flaunting my weaknesses.

Lord Onyx remained mostly impassive but there was a flicker of amusement and an unidentified emotion in his eyes. "Are you looking for my response to that, Jedi Solo?" he asked, as if daring her to speak the affirmative.

Solo waved his words away. "Please—as if what you think matters to me. However, I thought you should know." She turned to Sanar. "Look, whatever my so-called 'claim' on him is, you are totally free to take. I couldn't care less."

Lord Onyx scowled at Solo. "I believe I get a say in this."

Solo shrugged. "Well, even you are prone to a delusion every once and a while. Now get lost." Her eyes narrowed as she regarded Sanar. "Your little slave and I have some things to discuss."

Solo received a Force-shove for her audacity but after a moment Onyx left, Solo laughing after him.

Solo's show of mirth stopped abruptly as she closed the door with the Force after Onyx, and then turned to Sanar. For several moments the two simply looked at the other, weighing vulnerabilities, strengths, pros and cons.

Not looking away from Sanar's eyes, Solo spoke. "I can feel your questions, Sanar. You've made no effort to hide them. What do you want to know?"

Sanar didn't so much as blink, though inwardly she was scowling. "Why don't you read my mind and tell me?"

"I'd rather hear them from you."

Both women kept their voices pleasant, but the flint edge to their voices betrayed their true feelings. To be enemies would be to admit that the other was worthy of anger, and neither Sanar nor Jaina were willing to do so. Still, they were not foolish enough to bring out the "big guns," so to speak, yet. Both knew that they wouldn't come out of an open season of slander and fights unscathed.

But it'll come, Sanar relished. It was inevitable. Once they discovered the other's vulnerable spots, and when their own weak points were protected, not even their pride would hold them back.

"I saw the man – that ghost," Sanar said, watching the other's expression carefully.

Solo must have noticed Sanar's scrutiny because the walls around her mind tightened impossibly, and her expression was blank. "I see. And your question about him is…?"

Sanar almost blinked but that would have given more information to Solo than she wanted her to have, and so she reigned back to the urge. She hadn't quite thought of what she wanted to know; all she knew was that Solo hadn't thought the man visible. "Who is he?" she finally blurted out.

"'Who is he'," Solo repeated, seeming to consider the question for several moments. She began to say something, and then shook her head as if rejecting the response even before it passed her lips. At last she answered. "A friend. Before he – died – he was a Jedi Master. No doubt you've heard of him – does the name 'Kyp Durron' ring any bells?"

Sanar decided she couldn't have been more shocked if she had just been told her mother had taken over Mujir's Resistance. "That was Kyp Durron." It wasn't a question but Solo answered her anyway.

"Yes. Not what you expected?"

"No," Sanar replied bitterly, her eyes almost black with hate. "I expected the bastard's murdering tendencies to show a little more. After what he did to Carida – "

Solo's eyes blazed but her voice stayed the same steady, almost pleasant alto as before. "My dear Sanar, Palpatine destroyed Alderaan – a well-populated, peaceful planet – and yet you're fine with it. Kyp, under the influence of a Sith Lord, destroyed the sparsely populated military training planet of those who killed his family and enslaved him. How can you not see the difference?"

Unable to think of an objective response, Sanar ignored Solo's challenge. Instead, she leaned toward the other woman. "Stay out of my way, Solo, or Onyx will know not only about your treason against the Emperor – "

Solo laughed condescendingly. "Some blackmail! Trust me, Onyx would have to be blind, deaf and in his death throws to miss my 'treason'! I've made no effort to hide it."

" – and your precious Kyp."

Murder flamed in the Jedi's eyes. "You're playing with fire, Sanar." Solo's eyes locked on Sanar's until the older woman looked away, ending the unofficial stare-down they had been having. Sanar felt Solo's surge of victory.

"I win," Solo mocked, her smile etched in granite. In that moment, Sanar saw what Solo had not wanted her to see: how much it had cost Solo to survive the past five years.

And how much she had lost.

Upon deciding that Jaina and the slave – what had she said her name was? Sarai? Did it matter? – had had enough time, Onyx re-entered Jaina's room. He was immediately aware of tension between the two women and inwardly smiled. It took only a moment to see who had been the victor of this match. Jaina's smile was smug, but there was almost a…coldness…in her eyes that made him wonder exactly which words had been traded between the two girls.

When Jaina saw him her chin raised, as bold as ever. Victory sparked in her eyes and he found himself unsurprised. Of course Jaina had won – the slave was merely a shadow of her, a weak imitation. "Did you two enjoy yourselves?"

"Not as much as you are," Jaina retorted, the knowledge of what he was doing in her eyes. He suppressed a grin. Yet another reason why the original was better than the copies he had made his slaves: Jaina knew him.

"Sarai, go make dinner," he ordered.

Jaina's lips thinned in anger and she mouthed something. When he only looked at her she – reluctantly – spoke through their bond. /It's Sanar, you moron. After everything you've done to her – and are planning to do to her – you could at least get her name right./

/Why do you care? She is beneath you./ He received a strong visual of Jaina smashing his face in for his ignorant prejudice, but no other reply. He looked to Sanar. Her shielding was up, a false emotion in her eyes.

"My name is Sanar." The words were spoken softly, a hint of steel tainting her otherwise calm, husky voice.

Onyx shrugged carelessly. "Fine. Whatever. Go make dinner."

This time he saw Jaina use his head as a battering ram to escape. He struggled to conceal his amusement.

Sanar left quietly enough but he thought he felt her send a mental glare in Jaina's direction.

When the door swished closed Jaina glared up at him from the floor in front of the hoverbed. "If I weren't paralysed, Onyx, I would kick you where you do not want to be kicked."

He eyed her curiously, a smirk creeping up his face. "She is your enemy, is she not? It should not matter to you what I call or do to my property."

"Stangit Onyx, she is not your property! She's a human being – one that admires – " Was it just him or had she paused before choosing the word "admire"? " – you and you treat her like dirt! Do you even realize how disgustingly inhumane you are?"

There was a fire in her liquid brown eyes that he decided he liked. So intent on lecturing him was she that she missed the way his eyes skimmed over her. He decided that that was best for now.

"Doesn't the fact that you're heartless bother you? Force knows why Sanar even cares – it's not like you have any good qualities."

"Your fault – not mine."

Her eyes narrowed into slits. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged and spread out his arms in an innocent gesture. "You created me, sweetheart – everything I am, everything I have, I owe to you."

It was immediately obvious that he had struck a nerve. "Thank you so much," she said sarcastically, her shielding up so high it was painful to access the Force. "I really needed a reason to hate myself more."

He ignored her – mostly – and pushed aside the twinge he felt upon hearing her say that. "Be proud Solo: You produced the most powerful Sith in the galaxy."

To her credit, in her eyes there was only a hint of the torment this topic seemed to be causing her to feel. "I had nothing to do with Brakiss so I have no reason to be 'proud'."

His anger swelled. Perhaps Solo knew him too well – indeed she knew exactly which buttons to press. Which makes her more dangerous than anyone in the galaxy, he realized. Vaguely, he wondered why he was still alive. She is a Jedi – weak, kind-hearted. He shook his head. Jaina Solo's weakness – if she had one, but it was possible that she was planning his death even now – did not stem from the fact that she was a Jedi. But what is the root of this weakness? he wondered.

He pushed the trail of thought to the side for the moment, and brought his mind back to her impertinence. He had to ignore her provoking words for now – it was too soon to reveal his plans…especially to the one person who could bring about his downfall. Not that she would tell Brakiss – but it was just possible that she would use it against him.

She's just a girl - stop being so kriffing paranoid! he growled to himself.

"We never finished our negotiations," he said finally, leaving the old topic behind and sitting down thoughtfully on the hovercouch. "What do you consider worthy of medical care for your legs?" he asked. It was a trick question and no doubt she knew it – he already knew what it would be worth.

Her expression was carefully controlled, as was her evasive response. "I'm afraid I can't always understand the Dark twists of your mind; perhaps you should shoot some ideas my way."

He quickly picked a random idea, the first that stuck out in his mind. "Join me – become a Lady of the Sith."

She snorted. "I'm more than a match for you even now, Onyx – " Was that a warning? " – and you want me to have reckless, selfish power? It is to your…benefit that I remain in the Light. If I turned, you wouldn't have to worry about Brakiss – but only because you would be quite within your rights to worry about a rebellion against you, and for your life. If you could kill me, you would have already done so."

He raised an eyebrow at the latter statement, but quickly realized that she was not speaking about his ability to eliminate her, but of his willingness to do so. He shrugged it off uneasily. Her response had not been unexpected – the suggestion had been merely another move on the dejarik board.

He pretended to think some more. "Information, then? Intelligence or military plans? Hints about the whereabouts of the Jedi?"

She snorted. "I wouldn't tell you even if I did know. Don't pretend you think I ever would."

Another expected answer; he was beginning to tire of this. He wanted his victory. Perhaps it was time for the ultimatum. His eyes locked on her. "Then here's the deal: Only if you join the Empire will you get the medical care you want."

Her shocked silence was the sweet music of victory to his ears.

A metal pot slammed onto the stove, spilling milk. The burner hissed and steamed as the milk touched it, but Sanar ignored it as she put the pot down. How can he just…the Sithspawn little… She reached for a metal mixing spoon, but her fingers were clumsy and it made a loud clang when it hit the floor.

"Y'know," a voice said out of the blue. "I've heard that the Sith have sensitive, vulnerable ears, but I don't think you can kill Onyx just by banging pots and spoons around."

Sanar spun, more than willing to take her anger out on the person that dared taunt her. When her gaze found the insolent being however, it was the last person she expected and thoughts of murder flew out the first window, and then back through another. She stared, dumbstruck, for several moments before she managed to croak, "You."

Kyp Durron offered a jaunty smirk. "Me."

"What – what are you doing here?" Her voice was far too weak to be her own, but considering who she was talking to, it wasn't really unexpected.

"I take it you weren't expecting me?"

Sanar's temper flared. Easy Sanar…no need to fry him with Dark lightning – yet. Oh, but it was tempting to finish him off, right there… "What do you want?" she demanded, gripping the mixing spoon tightly in her hands, wishing it was Kyp's neck.

"I thought we could speak of nice, light subjects such as your hatred of Jaina." When she continued to stare at him he added, "I believe you've taken to calling her 'Solo'."

"And why would I want to discuss the pitiful, annoying presence of her with the Destroyer of Carida?"

The blue Jedi Master smiled grimly but his eyes were guarded to hide something – what? Pain? In that kriffing, heartless Jedi? How dare he even pretend he felt the same emotions as any decent being in this galaxy!

"That was a long time ago, Sanar, and no one hates me more for what I have done than myself." He said her name softly, as if it were an endearment rather than just a name she had been labelled with.

Care to take a wager on that, Durron? she thought dangerously.

She snorted derisively and poured the noodles into the warm milk on the stove, setting the timer as she did. "You killed thousands – probably more – of your enemies, and you hate yourself for it?" If he had known her he would have recognized the soft menace in the words, and would have veered away from this "sensitive subject."

"I was possessed by a Dark Lord of the Sith – "

"Oh, of course, it's not your fault you destroyed Carida – and even if it was, the Empire is just as bad because the Emperor is a Sith! I'm so sorry, for some reason I thought you might be man enough to face up to the consequences and realities of your actions!"

"Sanar – "

She interrupted him, not letting herself hear him say her name again, the way he had said it before. "No, it's not your fault people died!" She got Dark pleasure in seeing him try to speak only to be cut off. "Did it ever occur to you that those you destroyed with the Sun Crusher might not even support the Empire? Did you ever think of their families? What of their children? Did you wonder how their wives might deal with the grief?"

To her horror, she found that tears were beginning to build behind her eyes. I won't cry! I won't – not in front of him! He won't get that satisfaction from me! "Did you ever think about how the family as a whole might be treated? Did you?"

If Sanar had cared, she might have noticed that Kyp looked like he might be sick – if it was possible for a ghost to upchuck, that is. "All life is precious, Sanar," he whispered, "no matter what they have done."

For a moment she wondered if he had added a layer of personal meaning in the way he said it, but she pushed the thought away. He couldn't know about Horaire, or any of them. Her cheeks burned in humiliation and shame just at the thought.

"Are you trying to say they deserved to die because they were trained to kill?" she whispered instead, her hatred palpable. "Are you making yourself into a tragic hero now? The reluctant eliminator of all lesser beings? What of those that were forced – " Her voice broke there but she pushed on " – into service?"

Kyp took a steadying breath before speaking. While the action was hardly necessary – his lungs had, after all, long since disappeared - it calmed him. "Are you so loathe to admit Jaina is worthy of your hate that you must pursue this conversation?"

The stove timer went off in the silence that followed the dead Jedi's question, but Sanar did not move. When she spoke at last, she had to work to keep her voice stable. Her words and attached conviction, however, were doubtless. "I hate you."

Kyp's face looked haggard and she thought she saw him flinch. "You're not the first to say that. I doubt you'll be the last."

But I'll always be the one who means it the most.

As if his voice released her from the spell of memory that froze her limbs, Sanar turned back to the stove. Through the tears beginning to pool in her eyes, she could see that the milk had begun to burn. She sighed and prepared to start over again.

And again, and again, and again….

Another long chapter! And more along the way. Consider it an apology for my inexcusable hiatus?

Please RR

-Tjz