Terin: Thanks! I'm afraid Fel isn't long for this story…but Onyx- and Sanar-goodness is – two out of three isn't so bad, is it:P

Jaina-Elessar: Onyx has figured out "the Zekk thing"…to some extent. He doesn't know how far Jaina is willing to go, and he doesn't know that she loves Zekk. He's still kind of figuring on Zekk and Jaina being best friends – with maybe something more. But that's speculation. Miko's cool. :D And his role gets bigger the further into the trilogy we get, so keep liking him. /wink/

Chapter Twelve: Destiny

(Day Four – 07:45)

The day began, predictably, with several very grumpy people.

Jaina, who had set her chrono to wake her up at seven-hundred-hours, wolfed down her breakfast and wanted to leave for the gym immediately. Sanar, she added quickly, should probably go see her mom right away, to catch her before she planned anything.

Sanar was not pleased about being woken up so early, and was in a grouchy mood. She did not, she snapped, want to see her mother until noon. At least then, she might be half-way prepared for the nitwit.

Onyx was trying to figure out why 'Solo' wanted to get to the fitness centre so early and was becoming more and more irritated as she refused to fill him in.

Jag had arrived at Jaina's comm., thinking that he was to escort Jaina to the centre. Onyx was far from pleased to see the Chiss colonel there, and was fiddling with his lightsaber in a rather intimidating way. To his credit, Jag was the only person even a little calm.

Unfortunately for the colonel, Jag's forced calm was irritating to both Jaina and Sanar.

Finally, Sanar found the Chiss so annoying that she left early, despite her reluctance to meet her mother again after so many years. The only good thing about it, she decided, was that she might see Clayra again… If her mother hadn't forgotten her somewhere—like a cantina or a seedy club—the way she had "lost" Sanar so many times. Then she wondered why her mother was even off Na'Lein'yhpaon, and she got worried.

The three remaining adults—Onyx, Jaina, and Jag—were still arguing and, in their morning mind-fog, did not immediately notice the sound of fighter ships coming into the atmosphere. Even then, it was Jaina—and a split second later, Jag—who realized what was happening. One met the event with triumph and a touch of surprise; the other felt only annoyance before switching into fighter pilot mode.

Onyx, well versed with duelling but having rarely been in a cockpit, was the last to recognize it. Pushing aside his dislike for Jag, he ordered the Chiss colonel to escort Jaina to safety.

Despite his hatred for Brakiss, Onyx had a duty to the Empire—one he had to take seriously, if ever wanted to become emperor in place of Brakiss, and turn 'Solo'.

08:13

They had shed the bulky hover-chair a few blocks back; despite the speed Jaina was now able to use and manoeuvre with, however, the two were still moving slowly. Already Jaina could see Jag's impatient, longing glances at the space and air fight. She could sympathize, but knew that neither of them were going to be getting into a cockpit soon.

"Come on," she urged, grabbing his arm when he paused once again. "There's a duracrete building over there; the New Rebellion won't bother with it; you can watch the fight from there." When he didn't move, she stamped her foot. "Oh, stop it!" she snapped. "Don't you think I want to be in the air as much as you do? It's not happening—not this time, anyway. Now come on." Impatiently, she marched off, forcing him to follow her, or disobey a direct order from the second-in-command of the New Empire. She trusted his loyalty—however forced she suspected it to be—to propel him forward.

When she reached the sanctuary and turned to see him almost on her heels, she sighed. "Why, in the name of all that is good, do you follow the Empire so willingly?" she wondered in exasperation. "You're a smart guy—even I'm aware of that, and I barely know you; surely you must see how treacherous it is."

His pale green eyes were solemn. "Of course I do, Miss Solo." The title fit awkwardly on his tongue.

"If you must use titles, I'm a colonel of the New Rebellion," she replied with a bite. "And no one's taping this; feel free to be human."

For a moment, his jaw tightened and his eyes flashed. "Unlike some, I have a job to do," he stated coldly. "Despite any protests I may have about my government, the Chiss have always allied with the Empire."

"No, Thrawn allied with the Empire, Jag; one being doesn't swear allegiance for an entire species."

"Maybe not for the Rebellion," he snapped, "but things are different in Chiss society. We possess a code of honour and loyalty that is not to be broken."

"Not for anything?" she queried sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest. "I hear your father defected for your mother."

He leaned out of the doorway and looked up at the shadows of the X-Wings and TIEs fighting and falling overhead. "My father found something that he placed above everything else; he would have died for my mother. It remains the same even now."

She smiled bitterly. "Love," she muttered, "is about the only thing that can turn everybody into helpless fools. Sometimes I think the lucky ones are the beings that can ignore it."

Jag frowned. "I wouldn't say that." He paused and his face became both older and younger in its own way. For a brief moment, she saw who he could have been, if he had been given the room to be himself, away from the Chiss, or even just the military.

"Neither would I, I guess." She shrugged and gave a humourless laugh. "I've sacrificed too much to give up now, anyway."

The stern man's eyes shot up to hers. "Onyx, I presume?"

Surprised, she spared a moment to wonder how he had found out. Then she smirked and slid down the wall and into a crouch. "Ironic, isn't it? Of all the guys I could have fallen for…it had to be the one who went against everything I believe in. Not to mention the murders his Dark persona has committed."

Jag studied the sky for a long moment, then sighed. "We all have our job to do—a destiny to fulfill, I suppose."

She snorted—couldn't help it. At his confused look, she explained. "That doesn't sound like a very…'Colonel Jagged Fel of the Chiss' thing to say."

He accepted her criticism with a wry nod. "I did not believe it for the longest time. My father told me it years ago, but without a higher cause, I never saw the truth in it."

"And what's your higher cause, assuming you've found it?"

A faint smile found his face. "That'd be telling."

"That'd be the point," she rejoined, standing. "C'mon; I've resigned myself to enforced bonding, and I've more than barred my soul. The least you could do is 'fess up."

He searched the sky, not meeting her eyes. "Some are born to make abrupt and obvious changes—like yourself, if my calculations are correct—but most are merely background players…helping the protagonist stay alive long enough to fulfill their own cause."

She snorted. "You highly underestimate yourself; if you'd let go of your steel resolve, you just might make it."

His slight smile was somehow unsettling and even a little…condescending. "Perhaps," he acknowledged, "if I have the time."

She frowned and was about to ask him what he meant when—

08:34

When the attack started, Sanar was almost to the motel her mother favoured. Leave it to the rebels, she thought, still grumpy from her early morning, to put me in a situation where I have to stay with my mother for the whole day.

As she continued to make her way through Coruscant (at a swifter pace now), she hoped that the rebels would at least make a decent go at it—who knew? Maybe whatever was making Durron's ghost suddenly and constantly show up would be bombed…

Unfortunately, a quick glance at the Strings assured her of otherwise.

Future glimpses can really suck, she mentally snarled. The Force is so picky about what you see.

She dismissed the question of why she was able to see something like the outcome of a battle, and not where she would be in a few days. As she had been growing up, the visions had been painfully clear. Once she reached the age of nineteen, however, the "Strings"—as she had childishly named them—had become blurry. As if, suddenly, mercifully, the Force had decided that seeing the events of her life once was more than enough.

Or as if her destiny was at the point where it could be changed very easily…?

She frowned; that was definitely not an idea she liked. Her life could go down too many paths—death being the most prominent option; a continued, chafing life as a slave was another. Clayra was still vulnerable and Devnos could only get worse. Caesarea… Well, it was best not to think about what could happen to Sanar's mother.

Too many possible destinies. Too many tragedies that hadn't happened—yet.

For some inexplicable reason, Durron's words came back to haunt her: "Everyone has a shot at redemption, Sanar; you just have to reach out and grab it, before it's gone. Remember that."

She focused on the Force, then jumped down a flight of stairs. The needed concentration let her escape—if only for a moment—the mirage of redemption.

Nothing could fix what had happened in her life; nothing could salvage her soul now. The facts were too simple, too cruel.

Murder was murder, no matter how much of it was self-defence, no matter what the dead had done.

Hatred and anger were too deeply ingrained in who she was; deceit was her very way of life. Not even Sanar knew who she was anymore.

There is no chance for redemption (if such a thing truly exists) when the being in need of redemption is lost to shadow, Sanar thought with forced reason, wishing someone was around to slap some sense into her. Live with it, Klis.

08:47

Tick…

Instinctively, Jaina looked up; Jag's reflexes, however, dictated something much different. He took two quick steps and shoved her to the far corner of the building. She landed semi-awkwardly, her training allowing her to accept the fall, though not as comfortably as she would have liked. Kriff, I'm losing my touch. Next thing I know, I'll have to give into my mom's pleas to join her in the political arena. Oh, shudder…

BOOM

Such thoughts were abandoned completely, however, when the front of the building blew in. Han Solo had passed his instincts on well and—just as they did in the case of the famous smuggler-turned-upright-citizen…sorta—they saved Jaina's life. Or, rather, Jag's shove and her duck behind a thick, marble desk, let her escape with only minor burns and abrasions.

Jeez, what are they thinking…bombing a hotel! I'm beginning to agree with Jag's suspicion of the Rebellion's strategy (or lack thereof)… When objects stopped flying, the Jedi warily crawled out of her hiding place. "Whoo-y, that was a close one," she called out, trying to find Jag amid the dust and small fires (put out as soon as the Jedi spotted them). "Thanks for the push, by the way…"

A faint grunt caught her attention and she followed her ears, which led her stumbling feet to the entrance, where the damage had been worst. "Jag?" she tried uncertainly, barely able to see through the dust.

A hand caught hers unexpectedly and pulled her to the ground. Through squinted eyes she could make out the Chiss colonel—the only Imperial to be even decent to her. Her Force suppressing collar was unable to cover all of the pain that radiated from the young man. A scan of his body confirmed her suspicions. Part of the ceiling had been brought down by the bomb and landed on Fel's lower torso.

She hadn't expected to feel pain when someone she had known for such a short period of time fell but… She gripped his hand tightly. "You idiot!" she shrieked through a coughing fit. "What were you—orders don't—how dare you try to—" she hacked up some dust "—play hero!"

Barely—just barely—she could make out his sooty face, tight with pain. "I told you," he said through clenched teeth. "Very few are—protagonists in life. You're not…backing out of it that easily—Jaina Solo."

If he hadn't had a chest wound, she would have pummelled him for that. "But—Jag—" Absurdly, she chose that moment—of all the seconds of war—to let a few, rebellious tears escape. "I can't…I mean, I don't know if I…"

His second hand came up and forced her own open. "This'll help," he muttered, placing a round object in her palm. She caught sight of a choker—the one Onyx had bought her the other day—before Jag squeezed her hand tightly, curling it into a fist until the hard material felt like a brand on her skin. "'Love'," he said, quoting her earlier statement in his weak, dying voice, "'is about—the only thing that can—turn everybody into—helpless fools'—Jaina…" His head fell back, slowly—so achingly slow—as the life drained out of him.

Then, defying everything she had ever learned from her uncle, Jaina heard the voice of Jagged Fel—a completely non-Force sensitive being—in her head. "Go show Onyx and that thrice-damned 'emperor' what everyone's so scared of, Jaina."

What everyone was so scared of—the emotion that no one could control, that made people do stupid, insane things…and feel the better for it. The emotion that people killed and died for, wept and laughed for.

The one emotion that Brakiss could not stand for or comprehend:

Love.

("You used to believe you could turn him back. What if you were right? What if it's your...I don't know...destiny to save him?")

Helplessly, she sat down, pulled her knees to her chest, and buried her face in her hands, too scared to cry or even to run.

Right about now, Jasa, destiny is sounding like the opposite of a good thing.

15:23

Devnos Klis waited for Onyx impatiently. This was it—his chance. He wouldn't get a better time than now to finish off the Darkest Knight. The Emperor had excused Devnos from the command post for this very reason, he knew. His master was giving him the opportunity of a lifetime on a silver platter. Now if Onyx would just pass this corridor, like he was supposed to…!

At last, the Sith apprentice was there, striding through the hallway, cape flowing behind him. Both his arrogance and powerful aura were still in place, making Devnos hesitate for the barest moment, only to be bolstered by the image of his sister and her slave tattoo.

You'll pay for turning my sister against me, Onyx, Devnos vowed. If it had only been the power and the arrogance, he might have killed the man quickly, but Sanar was supposed to be left out of the equation completely. I'll make sure you—and that cheap niftyax you seem to care so much about—come to your end thinking death is a merciful thing.

As if he heard the pledge, Onyx glanced sharply at the room where Devnos waited. With a swift movement, both men had engaged their lightsabers—Devnos in attack, Onyx on instinct.

Like a wraith, Devnos stepped out of the shadows, the erratic lighting twisting his face into that of a monster. "It ends here, Onyx," he stated coldly, then attacked.

15:37

She had put it off long enough—first with an extravagantly long lunch, then with a walk around the marketplace. She had to face this—face the past. Talking to Mama? she snorted, prepping herself. Come on, Klis—that's easy after everything you've lived through. Sanar was about to cross the threshold of her mother's room when—

& treason brakiss has must tell onyx solo attack &

She stiffened from shock. Her childhood instincts took over quickly, however, and she spun on her heel and sprinted back to the Imperial Palace.

Larifx, this isn't good…

15:47

The lightsabers crackled as they met, and the force of the blows almost sent both men flying to the walls. The two were not evenly matched—Onyx was more experienced—but Devnos had expected and prepared for that. For hours, he had familiarized himself with the unpredictable settings and the chaotic lighting.

Just how much that would help him against an ("almost") completely trained Dark Jedi, however, had been—and still was—debatable.

Slowly, Onyx's techniques became increasingly unpredictable. Gratingly, he pushed Devnos back, a cold sneer on his face. "You are a fool, Klis," he mocked. "You think you fight me for your own glory, but you're only a puppet."

Devnos growled and smashed his blade against Onyx's, twice as angry as he had been before. "I am no one's puppet," he snapped. He had fought far too long to be merely an instrument.

Onyx smirked. "Of course not," the Sith returned sarcastically. In a swift movement, he swept the other's lightsaber across the room, and grabbed Devnos by the throat. "Who sent you?"

Devnos grappled, trying to loosen Onyx's fingers. "Go to Hell, Onyx," he spat.

"You first," Onyx snarled, smashing the other's head against the wall. "Was it Brakiss? Was it that ridiculous, feeble excuse of an emperor? Answer me before I make you incapable to do so!"

Devnos lip had split and blood trickled down his pale chin, making him a ghastly looking creature, made only more hideous with the erratic lighting. "Of course," he hissed finally. "You didn't think he'd keep someone as incompetent as you? Fool—he's been training me since day one."

Onyx's eyes glared with a furious hatred. "You'll never win, Klis," he snarled. "I am the Darkest Knight—Brakiss only sent you to distract me; even he does not relish an all-out fight with me. You are nothing."

The younger man's derogatory remarks only further fuelled Devnos' anger and injured pride, and his need to lash out—to make a lasting mark—got the better of him. "Even if you kill me, Brakiss will find someone better, Onyx. He was going to give you the benefit of the doubt—why do you think he sent me to kill your niftyax slave?" Onyx's fist shattered Devnos' nose and left cheek bone, but still Devnos continued, not heeding the consequences. "Brakiss was not pleased to hear that she still drew breath…I was supposed to send her into the lowest level of the Corellian hells. But don't worry: when you are gone—he will complete my job. He may even be doing it now."

Regrettably for Devnos, Onyx was very well prepared for taking care of people who displeased him. Perhaps even more unfortunately, the Sith had learned some very painful lessons from Brakiss—one especially:

Pain and humiliation are only real when the being is left alive.

16:29

"Citizen Solo."

Slowly, Jaina lifted her face from its position on her knees (had she been there the entire time since Jag death?) and looked up into the cold face of one of the Emperor's Guard and several of the burliest soldiers she had ever seen outside of a wrestling match. "What do you want?" she said, her voice just one volume notch above a sigh.

Two imposing guards dragged her up. "You, Jaina Solo, are accused of high treason against the New Empire," the red-clothed Guard spat. "Your crimes include planning an attack against your government and killing an Imperial officer." He glanced derisively at the limp, dust- and rubble-covered form of Jagged Fel.

"But I didn't—"

The blow came hard and fast across her cheek. "Silence! Your trial has already been held; you were seen trading information with an unknown Rebel, and the holo-cams recorded your attempts to escape the palace this morning. We are here to take you to your execution."

She stared at him, blinking rapidly, her mind attempting to capture these developments. "My…"

The red Guard motioned to the black-clothed soldiers, then turned his back on her. When a gag was positioned roughly around her mouth and her hands were cuffed tightly, they dragged her to her…execution. The idea became dust in her mouth and choked her.

It wasn't supposed to end this way! she screamed desperately, but no one heard her. And, in a few hours, no one would ever again.

16:29

Sanar raced up the crumbling stairs to the palace, her breath coming in insufficient bursts. Over and over again, the vision played in her mind. The Strings were desperately pushing her forward; she could barely think straight.

Lord Onyx…he needs to know! the Strings whispered as she stumbled down the hall, trying to find Onyx's quarters. "Of all the times to forget!" she cursed, becoming disorganized with the changed surroundings. Bombs had landed there—and here—was that where the medical ward had once rested?

He needs to know! Hurry! Hurry, Sanar!

16:33

The soldiers threw Jaina into the anteroom of Brakiss' throne chamber and then bowed out, leaving only two of the Emperor's Guards to warily watch the traitor. No hope of escape here, she thought morosely, slumping into a crouch against the wall.

One of the Guards slipped into the throne room to alert Brakiss of her presence while the other secured the door like a watch-dog. Increasingly nervous, Jaina's fingers fidgeted, as if searching for a mechanical piece to take apart.

There were no machines on her, but her twitching fingers found a hard object in the front pocket of her jacket. She pulled the object out surreptitiously, careful to hide it from the Guard's view. When she opened her hand, her eyes found the choker Onyx had bought—the one Jag had told her to take. "This'll help," he had said.

She glanced up to make sure the Guard wasn't watching, then raised the choker a little to get a better look. On the outside, it was still the same simple, beautiful design; but on the inside… She swallowed a gasp.

A notch, barely perceptible, marred the smooth gold. Hardly daring to hope, she used her fingernail to nudge the switch forward, to the second setting. For a second, nothing happened, then the Force flooded her senses. It wasn't as strong as she was used, but she bet… Yes—the closer she held it to the Force-suppressing collar, the more powerful the cancellation.

She waited until the second Guard came back to converse with the other, then snapped the collar around her neck, hiding the action as best she could behind a curtain of her hair.

When the two Guards yanked her up by her arms, she didn't protest. Jag had been right; everyone had their destiny to fulfill. Apparently, she was about to have a head-on collision with hers.

16:37

Miko was surprised when "his" pilot was none other than Han Solo, with Leia Organa Solo co-piloting. "General Solo?"

"Get in kid," the Rebel hero tossed over his shoulder, getting ready to pull the Millennium Falcon up. "We're going to have to pull some fancy flying to get out in time."

"But, Jaina—"

Han's head whipped around so fast, Miko feared the hero would have whiplash. "What about her?" he demanded.

"She's in the palace—or someone nearby—if we waited, maybe—"

Leia shook her head grimly. "There's no way to contact her; we need to leave now."

"But surely you can—"

"I had to cut our bond," the princess said, not looking at him. "Jaina's reaction to Jacen's demise nearly killed this little one," she touched her swollen abdomen protectively.

Miko stared, unable to believe what he heard. "You cut your bond with your daughter? But—"

Han forced himself to continue the start-up procedures. "You're sure, princess?" he interrupted gruffly.

Leia couldn't look at him. At any other time, she knew Han would have raced off, not heeding anyone's advice, to rescue his little princess. But he wouldn't dare while Leia—a few months along in her pregnancy—was aboard. There would be no way to protect the ship or its occupants much longer. "There's no way," she affirmed, voice cracking. "Jaina's on her own."

Miko shielded himself and strapped into one of the back seats, unable to bear the grief Han was radiating. I'm sorry, Solo, he thought. I did my best. May the Force be with you.

16:39

Brakiss was uglier than ever, and Jaina had made sure to let him know that as soon as she entered. That he had not replied—only smirked nastily—added to her anxiety. Apparently, being held tightly by a Guard, she posed no threat in his mind. Either that, or he was really, really enjoying the idea of Jaina Solo's execution at his hands.

"Where's Onyx?" she demanded, fighting down her slowly increasing fear.

Brakiss ignored her and gestured for all the Guards—save the one holding Jaina—to leave. "I'll give you one chance to save yourself; who was your Rebel contact?"

She rolled her eyes. "I had no part in the attack, you vomitous, babbling mass. I demand that you—" The Guard shook her so viciously that she bit her lip and quieted. 'There is no emotion; there is peace.'

"No doubt your contact has already fled with the Rebels, and we will discover his identity soon enough," Brakiss continued, not paying attention to her reply. "Save me the trouble of a search, however, and you will be returned to Onyx unharmed."

'There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.' She gritted her teeth. "You don't care if I'm innocent or not, Brakiss, and don't think I'm unaware of it. Letting me go would only be another of your attempts to control Onyx. It won't work," she added.

Brakiss'—or, rather, Palpatine's—yellow eyes darkened. "So be it, Jedi."

She started a little; had her Jedi-code-quoting really gotten past her shields? Kriff; out of practice was an understatement… No time to fix that now, she thought glumly. May as well have some fun while I can.

The Guard's grip on Jaina's upper arms tightened, forcing her to stay still. "Citizen Jaina Solo," Brakiss began ominously, drawing his lightsaber, "you have been found guilty of high treason against the New Empire."

"'There is no passion; there is serenity,' " she muttered, smirking when she caught his annoyance.

"Because of your heinous crimes, you are to be executed immediately."

"You promise?" she retorted to cover her relief. Apparently, her "crime" was too holo-net worthy for Brakiss to have fun with her.

His smile was cold as he engaged his lightsaber with a snap-hiss. "Any last words, Miss Solo?" he murmured, enjoying himself too much to snarl at her cracks.

She glanced down, then around the room, trying to see if there was any way to escape. There wasn't; the Guard held her too tightly, Brakiss was too in control of his lightsaber. Both would be too strong-willed for a mind-trick. She sighed and brushed against her father's Force presence in goodbye. "'There is no death'," she whispered, "'there is the Force'."

The last thing she saw before she screwed her eyes shut was Brakiss' red lightsaber hurtling toward her neck.

16:41

Onyx stormed into his room, furious over the attack—both the one against himself, personally, and the one still raging outside. Devnos' actions still too unbelievable, he forced his mind to the Rebel attack.

What could have been used for his purposes had come far too soon and without warning. Why hadn't his spies caught it? An attack of that magnitude could have easily been twisted to make sure Brakiss came out on the wrong side of the public eye. It could have been the last card – instead, the chance had slipped through Onyx's fingers like water.

A roar of frustration found exit in his mouth. Another escape for you, Brakiss, you old fool. But your luck won't last much longer – I'll see to that. He might have been tempted to wait just a little longer, but with Brakiss being so bold as to send an assassin after him….

More ill-tempered than he had been in a long time, he collapsed onto a hover-couch and ran a hand down his face.

He wondered where Solo was, if she was alright. He berated himself for caring too much. Then he realized that, given Devnos' blusterings about Brakiss' grudge, he would need to keep a close on Solo's safety. Silently, he growled about all the ways he would torture Fel if Solo hadn't escaped the attack unscathed.

An image from the old nightmare – Jaina, dead by his hand – burst into his mind.

His angry fist found the side desk, and a holo fell off and onto the floor. With a frustrated sigh, Onyx brought the object up and into his hand with the Force. He studied it for a moment, then frowned. The holo was not one he was used to – at least, not a style he had seen in quite a few years – not since the New Republic was in control, and Zekk was just a scavenger orphan, trying to make his way through life.

His anger momentarily disappearing into curiosity, he clicked on the activation button. For a moment, the blue of the holo flickered, then the image of the Solo twins – laughing, and with their arms around each others' shoulders – appeared. It must have been taken before the war started, because both were still quiet young, and no worry strained their smiles.

Unimpressed, Onyx was about to deactivate it when the holo-image changed. This time, the grizzled face of Peckhum appeared. The Darkest Knight blinked, stunned, as a wave of grief washed over him – Zekk's grief, but an emotion he was forced to experience nonetheless.

Onyx sighed and froze the image, the memory of Peckhum's death playing over and over again in his mind. Why would Brakiss want Peckhum dead? What could an old spacer possibly do? Assassin – bah! Peckhum was the farthest thing from; he had only ever helped. He had only ever—

Peckhum had only ever cared about Zekk.

The Sith groaned as the truth finally slapped him in the face. In his own way, Peckhum had been an assassin – not meant (directly) for Brakiss, but for Lord Onyx, Sith apprentice. Peckhum's love and belief in him was the only thing Zekk had never doubted. Even Jaina's friendship had been tainted by feelings of unworthiness, but Peckhum…if Peckhum had told Zekk the right things, Onyx might have no longer had control. When Peckhum died by Onyx's own hand, so, too, did a large part of Zekk.

Or, Onyx realized with growing horror, so Onyx and Brakiss had thought; the past two months had proven that to be untrue. It appeared that Peckhum has passed his work onto the defiant Jaina Solo, once Zekk's best friend.

As if in a dream, Onyx unfroze the image and the holo was replaced with one of Solo piggybacking Zekk. While Solo beamed at the holo taker (was it just Onyx, or did she lean in closer to Zekk than was needed?), Zekk had glanced up at his friend at the last moment, as if to check that she was alright.

A terrifying thought suddenly struck him – Solo was Zekk's last chance and, by now, Brakiss had to know, just as he had known Peckhum would pose a threat. And if he had already made one attempt on her, through Devnos… Moving instinctively, Onyx grabbed his lightsaber and stood, only to realize that he had no idea where Solo was. He searched the Force but found only a blur – assurance that she was alive, but little else. When he checked for Fel's presence, he was surprised to find the man dead.

Not good.

Just as he was on the verge of going out and searching all of Coruscant, Solo burst into the room. At least, that was what he initially thought; a second glance revealed the woman's identity to be that of the dancer Solo was always trying to get him to treat "decently".

"Brakiss – " the woman gasped, swaying from over-exertion. "He's going to – execute Solo – for – treason – in the – throne room – hurry – "

Onyx cursed. "You're sure?" he demanded. He didn't wait for the slave's confirmation. Instead, he pocketed the holo, and grabbed his cloak before rushing out.

He reached the throne room in record time, despite the debris the attack had scattered everywhere. The dancer's ragged breathing and wearied steps followed him, but he didn't bother to attempt to figure out why she followed. That was her business; Jaina was his.

He literally broke down the doors (they splintered surprisingly easily, considering how much they were worth) and was immediately glad he had.

Brakiss' lightsaber was already moving to decapitate Solo. With a desperate Force-controlled leap, Onyx met his "master's" lightsaber with his own. "Try that again," he hissed, "and you're a dead man."

To Onyx's surprise, Brakiss grinned boyishly, only the briefest second of worry in his eyes, and stepped back, gesturing for the red-clothed Guard to do the same. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to come," the emperor remarked, disengaging his lightsaber. "A real Sith would not have even needed to raise his blade to stop me." He sneered. "But, then again, no true Sith would have wanted to protect a girl – especially a slave."

Warily, Onyx lowered his blade, making sure he was between Brakiss and Solo. "And I suppose you've figured out how to mould me into the perfect Sith – again?" he said sarcastically. Behind him, he could sense Solo cringe. In the far, far recesses of Onyx's mind, he could feel Zekk echo the sentiment.

Kriff. Better make this quick.

Brakiss beamed, looking, ironically, like an angel. "You have one last trial before you are truly a Sith," he agreed.

Onyx bristled, still wary of attack. It was not like Brakiss to give up this easily. "And what, pray tell, is that?"

Brakiss' pleasant façade dropped like a weight. "Destroy Jaina Solo."

The Darkest Knight froze, mouth agape in horror.

The emperor chuckled. "Yes, Onyx – destroy your precious 'Jaya'," he sneered. "Annihilate her mind and soul. Let her know she failed to turn you back the Light and save her precious New Republic."

Onyx felt sick; electricity arched in his fingers, begging to be released. Even as his temper rose, however, he stalled. "Why Solo?"

Brakiss' expression was condescending and clearly answered, "That should be fairly obvious to anyone with brain."

A rock dropped deep in Onyx's stomach as he realized it was. Zekk wasn't the only one Solo affected too much.

"She represents your old life," Brakiss explained, tipping Solo's chin. She jerked away from him, glaring. "Besides, she seems to have you feeling as if you love her," Brakiss spat. "Destroy her…and you obliterate the remaining Light in your heart."

"She has nothing to do with it," he denied, his knees nearly giving way as Zekk rose up at the lie. Why the kriff was controlling the weak fool becoming such a problem? For years it had gone off without a hitch – why did the blasted goody-goody have to show up at such a tense moment?

"However," Onyx managed to continue, "she has her positive points, and her attempts to 'redeem' me are – while pathetic – humorous; reason enough to allow her to live, if only for a while."

"You know, I'm surprised you'd hand Zekk over on a silver platter," Solo interrupted, her smirk surprisingly genuine for a person who was listening to a debate about whether or not she should be killed.

Brakiss sent her a sharp glance. "What?"

She scowled at the emperor. "Manners," she replied pointedly, just to irritate him.

"If I die," she continued, "I hope – actually, I don't – that you've been practicing your sparring."

Brakiss slapped her so hard she stumbled back a few feet. "You are nothing, Solo – and your death will only serve to – "

She scoffed, ignoring his tirade. "Idiot."

Onyx's lightsaber was up before Brakiss could hit Solo again. "Don't even think of it, Master; you know as well as I that the only real way to claim the title of a Sith is to dispose of one's master."

Brakiss' face darkened. "How dare you turn on me?" he hissed. "After all I've done for you!"

"You haven't done near so much that you own me!" Onyx spat with all the venom he could muster.

"Own you?" Brakiss repeated incredulously, his fury growing. "Own you? I made you! Everything you are is because of me. You owe me everything, and your precious 'Jaya', nothing. She forced you to become everything you hate – weak, controlled."

"Hey!" Jaina protested. "You already claimed responsibility for the Dark side stuff – don't change your mind now."

Brakiss gestured sharply in anger, and the Guard grabbed Solo and placed a blaster against the side of her head. "Not another word," the emperor hissed.

It was all Zekk needed to see.

In a swift, instinctive movement that barely even Onyx was aware of, Onyx/Zekk attacked.

Jaina's heart leapt at the fleeting glimpse of Zekk through the Force. Eager to keep an eye on the showdown, she used the Force to divert the Guard's blaster. Bracing herself, she then flipped the Guard onto his back with a grunt. When he rolled over to stand once more, she brought her foot down on his exposed gut. A swift kick to his head put him out of commission.

With a pleased expression and a silent "thank you" to her aunt, Jaina stepped over the Guard and picked up the blaster. For a moment, she considered simply aiming at Brakiss, but Sanar pulled the Jedi down with an irritated tug.

"Don't be an idiot," Sanar reprimanded the younger girl. "This is between the emperor and Lord Onyx – and whoever's playing around in Lord Onyx's mind," she added with a frown.

Jaina perked up. "You mean Zekk!" Her head whipped around as she studied the ongoing duel. "Cross your fingers, Sanar."

Sanar watched the Jedi carefully. "Who is Zekk?"

Jaina didn't answer and Sanar was quickly distracted. "You're going to have to jump in soon, Solo."

The young woman shot Sanar a worried frown, then stood, muscles tensing in preparation for whatever happened.

("What if it's your…I don't know…destiny to save him?")

Deep within the abyss, Zekk strained, pouring everything he had into this struggle. Onyx was distracted just enough – but not so much so that he didn't notice Zekk fighting back.

Frantically, Zekk focused on everything that made him himself.

Love – for Peckhum, who had been a second father. For friends he – and Onyx – had betrayed. For the family he had lost, and whom just barely remembered. For Jaina.

Anger – his anger – for the injustice in the galaxy, for his imprisonment in his own body, for the trickery Brakiss had employed to convince Zekk of what he could do.

Compassion – for the slaves he had watched Onyx abuse, for the aliens that had to be hidden from the Empire, for a galaxy he had not seen in far too long.

Awe – for his brief glimpses of a sunrise, or even for something as simple as the feeling of a raindrop sliding down his skin.

Suffering – that which had made him what he was. His parents' deaths. His feelings of worthlessness as a child. Watching Jaina, and wondering if there would ever be anything more between them. Feeling Peckhum fade away, his life snuffed out by Zekk's own hand.

Independence – what he never should have laid aside, not for the galaxy.

This is my body, Onyx, and I'm taking it back. Leave!

Still Onyx held on…by the thinnest of threads.

Am I just not enough? Zekk despaired.

Once he had been in hyperspace for thirty minutes (give or take), Miko picked up the control panel and took a deep breath. He checked his chrono anxiously as his foot tapped nervously, though there was no more danger.

Not long now, Brakiss…

Sanar was off in the world of visions, and—despite herself—Jaina turned away from the duelling Sith to watch the dancer in amazement. A real seer…wow…sucks for her, of course, but wow…

"Stop thinking about me," Sanar snapped, "and concentrate on what's happening. Look in their eyes. It's all in the eyes…" she trailed off, her own chocolate orbs focusing on something not of this world.

Creepy, Jaina corrected herself, shuddering. But when she reached out with the Force and caught a glimpse of Onyx's eyes, she froze in anticipation.

They weren't Onyx's frigid jade.

Instead, they were almost – so close to – Zekk's warm green.

She took a step forward, then paused.

Not Onyx – not yet Zekk.

("Zekk's not strong enough to keep Onyx out. The only way Zekk's coming back is if you're dead!")

"Oh kriff," she groaned at the memory of Kyp's prophecy. Her eyes dropped to the Guard's blaster, which she had taken from him. "How in the galaxy am I supposed to do this?" Swallowing, she held the weapon up before her wide eyes, and –

The room exploded.

Destiny is not a matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved.
-William Jennings Bryan

Onyx stumbled as the world rocked beneath him, and Zekk took advantage once again. The weakling of yesterday had disappeared into a river, slowly but surely taking ground and not giving it up. When a piece of the ceiling fell on Onyx's shoulder, he sprawled on the floor, his lightsaber skittering across the floor. Though he stumbled to his feet fairly well for someone who had been knocked down by several pounds of plaster, it was another advantage for Zekk.

And a slightly more potent one for Brakiss.

It happened slowly, but Jaina couldn't find the time to scream a warning. Seeing Brakiss smirk and swing his lightsaber brought her instincts up to full gear.

It was very, very lucky that Jaina was the daughter of Han Solo.

With more speed than she had thought even the Force could provide, the Jedi sprung between the emperor and Onyx/Zekk…

Brakiss, still wanting something to hold over Onyx, adjusted his swing as much as he was able…

Sanar stilled as the Strings released her…

Jaina closed her eyes…

Zekk froze in horror…

…and the hilt of Brakiss' lightsaber contacted Jaina's skull with a resounding crack, sending her tumbling against the far wall, where she crumpled.

Completely still.

He was drowning in a river wide and deep, with a current so fierce that every time his feet found purchase on the loose rocks below, they would slip out from under him, sending him below water. Though he pushed with all his strength, his head was never far above the waves, and he swallowed too much of the slimy liquid.

A scream of unadulterated grief pierced his ears and shattered his mind, even as he shrivelled away from the idea that the loss of love could cause so much pain, could push him so far away…

Just when he thought there was no way it could get worse, fire raced from his feet, up his legs, through his torso, and engulfed his spine. He tried to scream, but there was nothing! No sound to pass his lips, no way even to force it beyond his…but no, there was no voice box for him to use. No lungs to breathe.

The fire had burnt them all to a crisp.

He saw a flash of liquid brown, then green, and then he was plunged deep, deep into the current as the fire swallowed him forever.

Onyx hadn't even been able to scream.

I know...that cliff is evil. /grins/ Next chapter is the last one (I think).

Hint: reviews make me post faster... ;)

-Tjz