Chapter Fourteen

Lost in a tender kiss with her newly official husband, Jaina almost didn't catch the motion of an approaching figure at the corner of her vision. And she certainly didn't need the Force to give her the tingling sense of dread now suddenly forming in her gut.

Nor did Jag need the Force to sense her distraction. He broke the kiss and looked into her eyes, never even glancing toward the interloper. "I should have known my diversion wouldn't buy us much time."

Despite herself, Jaina smiled. "We are the center of attention tonight."

"Your father?"

"Worse."

Jag blinked. "Worse?"

"Sorry to interrupt," Wedge said as he stepped into the tiny alcove, which provided a private corner just beyond the Grand Ballroom. The seasoned veteran gave Jaina an apologetic look. "But I need a moment of your time. It's, ah… important."

"Uh, sure."

Jag wore an utterly befuddled expression on his face. "You're not asking her to dance?"

Wedge winced. "You know, that probably would have been better. This whole wedding thing has really thrown me off. Out of my element, and all that."

Jaina just shook her head.

Jag's eyes narrowed. "What's going on?"

"Maybe," Wedge started to say, "I'd better –"

"No, you're staying right here." Jaina snatched his elbow before he could make a move to extricate himself. Once she was sure her holdfather wouldn't make a break for it, she released his arm, then she took a deep breath, "You've fired the first salvo."

She turned back to face Jag. "Well, you see…there was this, um…thing."

Just for a moment, during their kiss, she had forgotten the pre-wedding drama. Covert operations, underhanded tactics, assassins – they weren't supposed to be things a bride had to worry about. Kissing her new husband, the soon-to-be-revealed secret location of their honeymoon – those were the thoughts she wished desperately for. Not that she could begrudge Wedge for the interruption. He had been her champion these past few days…

"Well?" Jag's eyebrows lifted. He wasn't annoyed, yet.

She sighed, and in the exhalation willed her mind to focus. "I've not been entirely forthcoming with you about an incident that took place a couple days ago."

"A series of incidents, really," said Wedge.

"Zip it, Antilles." She reached for Jag's hand. "I didn't want you to worry. Just some little stuff, you know? We had it under control."

Jag's visage shifted meaningfully to Wedge. "We?"

Wedge held up his hands defensively. "I'm just a foot soldier in the scheme of things. Iella was running the show, truth be told, while Tycho and Winter –"

"Yes, that makes me feel even less left out, thank you." Jag turned back to Jaina. Now, he was displeased. "How about," he said slowly, carefully, "you tell me everything."

"It's complicated. Maybe –"

"This is you we're talking about, Jaina. I assumed it was complicated." The scowl was gone, replaced by something more like a grin. Temporarily. "I agree, in light of the current situation, a full debriefing will have to wait. But I'm certain a brief recap can suffice?"

There was no getting out of this one. "All right."

When she finished, Jag stood speechless for a long moment. His face was inscrutable, his eyes lost in distant thought. Then he looked down at her, shaking his head. "Oh. Is that all?"

Jaina blushed, and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Jag hugged her back for the span of several heartbeats, then let her go and turned to Wedge. "Sorry. I guess we've kept you waiting."

The aging ace shrugged. "Better than having to watch my daughters flirt shamelessly. I don't know how much more I can take. They're doing it to torment me, you know."

"Yes, tragic," Jaina said. "So, what's the crucial important update? I assume it involves the inimitable Luthor Korde."

"It does indeed." Wedge leaned in, his voice low and conspiratorial. "He gave up his target."

Now it was Jaina's turn to be surprised. "He did? How'd you pull that off?"

"With my boyish charm and roguish good looks, of course."

"No, really."

Wedge muttered something under his breath, then said, "He wouldn't say anything at first, kept insisting on his procedural rights or some such. I kindly pointed out to him that he wasn't actually in GA custody yet, but he wasn't impressed. At least not until Tycho helpfully left on the Holonet coverage of the wedding, which conveniently included the sidebar announcement of Maramere becoming an Imperial protectorate." He laughed. "I've never seen a guy blanch so fast. Guess the prospect that we might just turn him over to the Imps was enough to make him sing all on his own."

Jag chuckled. "I'm getting the impression this image-improving mission of mine is going to end up becoming a bigger project than any of us realized."

Jaina poked him gently with her elbow. "You think?"

"All the stormtroopers following us everywhere probably don't help." Then he grew serious again, and looked to Wedge. "So? Who was the target?"

"Uh…" Wedge swallowed hard, and told them.

"Oh, great," Jaina said, scowling. "Now I have even more explaining to do."

The three of them exchanged long, weighty stares. Three minds worked furiously for their next maneuver, then three or four steps ahead. The consequences of these events were something Jaina already had absorbed over the course of their time on Bolis Island. Yet the impact of the revelation still rendered her momentarily at a loss. Jag, though, apparently had not been struck idle. Without a word he pivoted, heading straight out of the alcove. His face bore an expression that few lived to remember.

With Jedi speed she reached for his elbow, but it was the rustle of taffeta and a flurry of limbs crashing into Jag's legs that stopped him in his tracks.

A lilting voice cried out, "I found them!"

Despite the grave undertones of their current discussion, Jaina found a smile forming on her lips. "Hi, Amelia."

The overeager bundle of legs and arms plunged into the expanse of Jaina's dress and engulfed her in a hug, followed by a more solemn, mature version of the child stepping into the alcove's portal.

"Pardon us," Tenel Ka began, until her eyes locked onto Wedge.

In the Force, Jaina felt her quick burst of relief, tinged with concern. Nothing, however, changed in the Queen's visible demeanor. "Amelia, we should leave the adults to their conversation."

Allana glanced up from the folds of Jaina's gown, dark hair and green eyes drifting carefree in a sea of pink. "But Pop said to go get Jaina. He said it was high time they came up for –"

The sharp intrusion of Tenel Ka clearing her throat silenced the rest. "This is Jaina's wedding. She is allowed at least a moment with her new husband." Reaching for her daughter's hand, the Queen's eyes never left the general.

To his credit, Wedge appeared thoroughly chagrined. Jaina found herself wanting to jump to her benefactor's defense. But there was little she could say. The secret was bound up in a shroud of state secrets not even her friend could know. Then again, maybe the ruler of Hapes should know everything –

"But the dance!" Allana protested.

It was unusual for the young girl to show her emotions and, therefore, easy to forget she was just a child. Before Tenel Ka could adjust to the uncustomary outburst, Jag interceded, kneeling down beside Allana. "Do you want to dance with me?"

"No." Allana's tiny finger poked at the ribbon of medals on his dress uniform. "I want you to dance with your wife, so then we get to have cake."

Her new husband's brow arched and a mischievous twinkle erupted in his green eyes, the troubling news of minutes ago apparently forgotten. "A night of many firsts. I agree; the activities have been delayed far too long. We will commence post-haste."

Jag paused in the security of the alcove, watching Jaina and Tenel Ka usher Amelia toward the dance floor. Each held a tiny upstretched hand, and they walked slowly enough to accommodate the little girl's stride. Jaina glanced down. Her smile was warm, yet there was something… Nothing particular he could catalogue, exactly, like a set to her shoulder or a clench in her jaw. But he knew it, felt it, like the moment was his own – bittersweet sorrow for the twin who would never share the joy of this special moment. Then Jaina's gaze drifted back, meeting Jag's, and her brown eyes sparkled with a hint of recognition.

Jaina's smile brightened for him alone, and Jag remembered what it was he loved so much about his bride, why he had fought so hard for her and would until his dying breath. Despite the pain and loss, Jaina was a woman who found joy in the here and now. His life had been blessedly less grim since she had skirted within a hairsbreadth of his fighter back during the Battle of Garqi.

"You know, stalling isn't a viable tactic," Wedge said from just beyond the alcove.

His uncle had slipped out to allow the ladies through, and Jag realized he had forgotten him momentarily. "Not stalling. Regrouping. A viable tactic in the appropriate circumstances."

Wedge motioned for Jag to join him. "Sorry."

"No need for apologies." Jag marched forward into the main reception area and tipped his head as several guests recognized the groom's return. A hand on his shoulder stayed him. He turned back to meet the general's concerned stare.

"Iella and I have this covered. Don't let it ruin your night."

Admittedly, Jag's mind had been racing since hearing about the attack Jaina had thwarted only moments before they had wed. He already had processed numerous scenarios and alternatives for disseminating the information to the correct personnel to ensure security with minimal interruptions to the festivities. "You and Iella should be enjoying the reception with your daughters. You're family, after all."

"Exactly my point."

"Jag?" Jaina, who had left Tenel Ka and Amelia to meander toward the dais, now stood beckoning him to join her.

His wife had sacrificed some portion of their wedding week to protect him from the realities of duty. She deserved no less. Who else was Jag going to trust? He placed a hand on Wedge's shoulder. "Thank you."

As they closed on the central area of the Grand Ballroom, the orchestra rounded up their song with an embellished flourish, and the master of ceremonies – Mon T'Pithon, a popular Cerean host of an entertainment holojournalism show – began his booming announcement.

"The-e-ee time has arrived, ladies and gentlebeings. Gather round as we toast the bride and groom in their first dance." The crowd shifted subtly, a hush rolling through the room until all eyes focused on the dais. "Yes, the rumors are true…" The Cerean sauntered across the dais, extending the drama of his announcement. "We have a special guest here tonight. All the way from Vikova, Grand Dame Fronatel –"

Applause roared across the room. It had been a calculated decision to pick one of the galaxy's most celebrated songstresses, Lana Fronatel. Back in the day, she had been an award-winning actress in addition to the voice of her generation. Now her public appearances were rare, and live performances non-existent. But she had been a confidant of his mother and happily had accepted the personal request to perform a ballad. The song was beautiful and heartfelt; it was not, however, their song.

That didn't matter, though, because as the host aided the Grand Dame to the front of the orchestra, then summoned both Jaina and Jag to the dance floor before them, most of the attention remained on the rare spectacle of the once-in-a-lifetime performance. Which made this sliver in time a little more intimate than it would have been otherwise. As he took Jaina's hand to guide her to the dance floor, those who counted as family and friends remained fixed on the newlyweds.

"You ready?" Jaina asked with an impish grin.

"I have an option?" He formed the correct hold for the Alderaanian waltz, right arm out, left hand in the small of her back. "Can we skip ahead to the evasive maneuvers?"

"Wasn't the evasive maneuver the dance?"

"Um."

"Jagged Fel, did you have less than honorable intentions back on Hapes?"

He stepped off into the waltz. "My father raised me to be a gentleman."

"Your father raised a Corellian ace."

They twirled with the music, Jag trying to ignore the myriad of faces in the crowd. He spun them toward the center of the floor. "If I was strictly a pilot, my dear wife, then my evasive maneuvers would have included…" He bent down to whisper the rest in her ear.

A warm flush rose to Jaina's cheeks. Jag allowed himself an uncharacteristically beaming grin.

"Remind me," she said, "to dig out that red dress some time."

"Gladly." The song neared the second chorus, and Jag's brain reminded his heart there were more than two people in the room. "Shall we?"

Jaina tipped her head toward Mon, who had been dutifully waiting for the signal. He in turn invited the wedding party to join the newlyweds. Jag had his back to the dance floor. When her brow arched he suspected events were taking an unexpected twist. "Perhaps I should warn my friend about the consequences of dancing with Corellian aces."

One foot forward and step-pivot to the side gave Jag a full read on the situation. "Why can't he ever just stick to the plan?"

"And dance with his sister?" Jaina snorted. "Safer, maybe, but dancing with a beautiful woman, a queen no less, beats chaperoning any day. Although we might want to warn your brother about the consequences of stepping on Tenel Ka's toes."

"Fortunately, Cem's capable of avoiding a diplomatic incident on the level of toe stomping."

"Possibly. But there are many other levels of potential entanglement."

Jag bristled. "I already warned him once. Really, it's Wyn I'm worried about." The wedding party had been unbalanced, so they had planned on Wyn dancing with Cem. Tenel Ka had graciously made the offer when their sister had looked crestfallen about missing the chance to showcase her talent for looking good on a man's arm. Apparently unfazed by their little sister's dilemma, Cem executed a smooth turn. Impressed, Tenel Ka tilted her chin up and smiled sweetly at Jag's brother. Jag edged in the other couple's direction.

With the strength of the Force to back her, Jaina resisted. "You can't control everything, darling. Besides I'm sure your sister understands."

Jag witnessed the final death knell of the plan, when his sister sailed gracefully past, beaming in the arms of a dashing Jedi Knight.

Jag barrel-rolled out of Jaina's arms, but instantly felt the tug of an invisible Force grasp whip him right back to where he started.

"Easy there, flyboy."

"My sister –"

"– is dancing with Valin Horn." Jaina twirled away, never releasing her grip on his hand. She paused, her skirt still whirling out from her momentum. "Don't they make a handsome couple?"

"He's Corellian."

"And a pilot. A Jedi pilot, I might add. I'd say your sister is a lucky girl."

"I don't think –"

"You can't have it both ways, Jagged Fel."

"I can try, Mrs. Fel." The words had slipped easily off his tongue, yet the truth of them scattered his thoughts to the far reaches of the galaxy.

A lopsided grin graced Jaina's lips, and she tipped her head forward, nestling a cheek into his chest. The rest of the dance passed in a blur. After being pushed away, seeing his dreams crushed and revived, held on the razor's edge of battles between light and dark, Jag was finally married to Jaina. In the song's closing notes, he simply shut his eyes and hugged her closer.

Somewhere in the distance a soft thunder of applause seeped into his reality. The space between them opened, but gratefully only long enough for Jaina's lips to find his. For once, Jag felt completely uninhibited. His arms wrapped around her slim waist; her hands slipped along the contour of his shoulder. Their kiss spoke of undying love, heady dreams –

A smile formed under his, and Jag withdrew enough to look down into her twinkling brown-eyed gaze. "Your father?" Thankfully, this time her response wasn't "worse," just a simple nod. Jag turned to acknowledge Han. "Captain Solo."

Jaina ribbed him gently.

Jag cleared his throat. "Fa–Dad."

"Kind of sticks in the back of your throat, huh, kid?"

"It'll take some getting used to."

"No kidding." Han rubbed a palm on his pantleg. "Do you mind if I take one last spin with my daughter?"

"Of course not." Jag had nearly forgotten the next step: the father-daughter dance. Han clearly had not.

Jaina accepted her father's proffered elbow and they fell easily into rhythm with the lilting rhapsody. As Jag watched, the bliss of their first dance faded into the depth of his memory, one to savor in the more difficult times that were sure to come. He didn't want to leave Jaina, but a primal urge deep in his gut compelled him. In her father's arms she was safe and protected. This wedding had been about building a new family and all the obligations that came with it.

Jaina's actions – more than her spoken vows – reminded Jag that his wife felt that same duty. She had saved his father. Their happiness had been one misstep from a soul-breaking reversal. His fists clenched and the sharp echo of his battle-tested heart sounded in Jag's ears. The wash of faces began to click into view like the bogies on his clawcraft's heads-up display.

With one last glance he checked that Jaina was safely tucked in her father's arms, then honed in on his target. Even among a crowd, her silver-red hair and her crisp white uniform made her easily identifiable. Hightailing toward a remote side exit, she never saw him closing on her six.

"Chief of State. Leaving before we could exchange pleasantries?"

His words froze Daala in her tracks. She hesitated, her face hidden. Her guest, however, turned brazenly to greet Jag. "We were just getting some air."

Somehow, Boba Fett looked a lot less intimidating up close. True, the bounty hunter had given Jaina what Jag couldn't – a chance to live past her confrontation with Darth Caedus – and for that he probably should have felt eternally in Fett's debt. But any obligation had been erased hours ago in a foiled assassination attempt.

At long last Daala pivoted, her face hardened and inscrutable as she returned Jag's stare. "Head of Sta – oh, that's right. What do we call you now?"

"Ambassador. For the Imperial Mission to restore galactic prosperity."

"How noble." Daala linked her arm into Fett's. "Perhaps the Empire should make Mandalore one of its first priorities."

Without hesitation, entirely sincere, Jag said, "All they have to do is ask."

Fett stiffened, instantly threatening. "Hollow words. Come, Natasi. We've made our appearance."

The bounty hunter turned toward the doors, and was met with a stiff arm to his shoulders. "I'm not finished."

"I could finish you in short order, Ambassador," Fett snarled, shrugging off Jag's hand.

"I'd like to see you try. Especially since you're going to have to come through a short-tempered Jedi who knows your best tricks." Jag's glare snapped to Daala's icy green eyes. "As for you, Chief of State, I came over to suggest that you might wish to leave before the news broke."

"Of the Imperial protectorate?" She huffed derisively. "That footage rolled before you had finished your pledges of unity."

"Oh, not that. I was referring to the news of the attempt on the new Grand Moff's life."

Nothing changed. She hadn't blinked or set her shoulders. No tilt of the chin. Nothing. She just opened her mouth and said, "I can assure you the Galactic Alliance would not tolerate such a heinous act."

Jag had no doubt Daala's shrewd tactical mind would ensure that statement rang true. But her response, one that revealed no shock or outrage, confirmed that Jag no longer needed complicated investigations and long-winded analysis to uncover his enemy. He leaned forward, his voice hushed. "If you ever come after my family again, you'd better be sure you get every single one of us. One Fel with a blood feud is more than an entire battalion of supercommandos could stop."

"Are we done?" she hissed.

"We're done." Although the baritone voice of his father had been unexpected, it was decidedly welcome. If looks could kill, Soontir Fel's one good eye would have scored a mortal blow.

Daala backed one step, until the rooted stance of her partner stopped her. The bounty hunter would not accept the night's defeat even as Wedge Antilles and Luke Skywalker eased to either side of the Empire's new leader. Daala, though, had made a lifetime career of turning tail, and offered only a less than respectful bow before she dragged her escort from the room.

"You told him?" Jag asked Wedge, his eyes never leaving his father.

"You did entrust your judgment." Soontir said, nonplussed.

"I did." To handle the matter privately, Jag kept to himself.

"Very well, then." Before Jag could protest, his father took him by the shoulder. "Now we have that settled, I'm ready to celebrate."

"She just tried to eliminate you." Jag shuffled his feet, resisting the guidance to return toward the dance floor.

"A good sign."

"Father." Jag slammed on the reverse thrusters.

"Think about it."

It only took a moment. "You're pleased that she's afraid of you."

"Unfortunately," Luke added somberly, "there's much more she's afraid of, as well. At some point, I think we all need to talk."

"Yes, but not now." Wedge held a hand up, urging the foursome back toward the core of the festivities. "I know a few women, especially the Queen of Hapes, would be very disappointed if we missed the next dance."

The beat of a familiar Corellian folksong thumped across the Grand Ballroom. Falling into step behind Luke and Wedge, a realization dawned on Jag. He had missed most of the father-daughter dance, and more importantly the chance to join Han and Jaina with his own mother near the end.

"She'll understand, son," his father said as he matched him stride for stride. The four men spread out, Luke to the left, Wedge to the right, with Jag and Soontir between them. They merged into a near-perfect circle, mostly males, who clapped and whistled encouragement as the women began to wind around the dance floor in the traditional dance.

Leading, Jaina danced with the same grace with which she fought. Immediately following the processional line that wound behind her were the many women who shaped Jaina's life. Leia performed the steps with the polish of someone who had danced them many times. Lithe as a tusckat, Tenel Ka stilled appeared formidable despite her obvious enjoyment; Amelia's button-nosed face reflected her determination to master the steps to the same skill level as the first three women. Behind her, Wyn grinned in amusement as she attempted to assist in the young girl's efforts. Syal, even with all her years away from the Known Regions, proved she was a Corellian at heart and no less stunning with age than when she had captured his father's heart.

More and more women joined the merriment, laughing and flirting with the clusters of men at the edge of the circle. Jaina snagged a reluctant brunette woman, not accepting her initial resistance. Only when a rousing cheer erupted from the small group of Mandalorians did Jag realize that Jaina's captive was Mirta Ghev. Tyria Tainer, recognizable in her Jedi robes, hopped in behind the diminutive Mando and her exit was conveniently blocked. Within seconds Mirta acquiesced and joined in the dance. Then a squadron's worth of former Rogue pilots howled their appreciation, just a little bit louder than the Mandolorians.

Wedge leaned forward so he could be heard. "You know, the original version of this dance was an offering to the Goddess Fayti."

Jag recalled the Corellian fables told by his mother. "The goddess of fruitful production."

"Which explains Hobbie Klivian's uncustomary enthusiasm," Soontir noted dryly.

The Jedi Grand Master arched an eyebrow. "You know about the Rogues' bet?"

"I was a Rogue, you know."

"What bet is that?" Jag almost feared the answer to his own question.

Luke obviously didn't care and responded to Soontir instead. "Hobbie picked the month I had wanted."

"Are you privy to some special insight from the Force?" Wedge asked.

Soontir shook his head. "I think not. That would be cheating."

Luke grinned mischievously. "How do you know I wouldn't?"

"Because I bluffed you quite effectively in sabacc last night, Master Skywalker." Soontir's expression remained stone-faced. "I took the twelfth month."

Although not generally prone to missing the point of a conversation, especially where pilot humor was concerned, Jag had remained until that precise moment completely oblivious. "Do you mean to say you've wagered on when we'll have children?"

"Yes," the other three said in unison.

Jag wanted to be offended, but try as he might he really couldn't manage it. The truth was, he wanted a family and his new title and position afforded Jaina and him the possibility of making that dream happen. So if he wasn't going to be offended at being the butt of a Rogue joke, then he at least had to dish it right back out. "Uncle Wedge?"

"Yes?"

"Does your daughter know the history behind this dance?"

It took the seasoned pilot a split second to notice his youngest daughter spinning into the arms of a dashing young man regaled in the official dress uniform of the GA Starfighter Corps. Wedge bristled, tipping his head to the others. "Excuse me, gentlemen, but I'm about to pull rank."

With the precision of a skilled pilot, he split between a trio of twirling skirts, heading in the direction of Myri and her unfortunate wingman.

"Well played." Luke patted Jag on the shoulder. "If you don't mind, I have some business of my own to attend to."

Soontir waited until the Jedi has disappeared into crowd, then turned to face his son. "Do you feel better now?"

"I'm finally married to the woman I love. I would assume the answer is obvious." Jag held up one hand to offer a slight wave to Jaina, who blew him a kiss from the center of the dance floor. The exchange resulted in renewed hoots from various factions around the room, who all obviously had some vested interest in their union.

"Actually, I meant after threatening my erstwhile compatriot," his father countered in a low voice.

"Oh." Jag's collar felt a notch tighter. "That. Yes, much better."

"Good. But as your new leader, I'd advise you to not make it a habit."

"I'll do my best." By now Jaina had started beckoning him with a crook of her finger. "If you don't mind…"

His father nodded his approval, and Jag plotted the most direct path to join his wife. Seconds later, he held her in his arms.

Jaina draped her arms over his shoulder, tilting her chin up to await a kiss. He happily granted her wish. As the roar of the revelers reached a new pitch, she pulled back and laughed. "If the Rogues had their way we'd have a private escort to the honeymoon suite."

Jag shared the sentiment, but instead he said, "You knew about the bet?"

"You didn't?" Still dancing to the beat, she nudged him around in a circle so she could wave at her former squad members.

"Apparently I'm always the last to know."

"Oh right. I forgot you're not a Rogue." She grinned. "Although Janson did promise to make you an honorary member if he won."

"As good a target as any to shoot for, then."

Jaina shook her head. "No way. The only one you're going to help win that bet is me."

"You?"

"Of course. Sucker bet."

"In that case, what target are we shooting for?"

Just as she opened her mouth to respond the orchestra flared, many of the partiers began to clap their approval, and a wave of friends rushed toward the couple. Jaina simply responded with a laugh – that was instantly drowned out by the high-pitched wail of the amplification system overloading.

"I hope everyone enjoyed the last dance," the voice of the master of ceremonies boomed. The crowd cheered. "Good, good. I have been asked to assist on a little surprise for the bride and groom."

Jag glanced down at Jaina, who stood with one arm wrapped around him. She seemed equally perplexed by the interruption in the schedule. When her gaze became fixed, he followed it to the front of the ballroom. The crowd parted and a seemingly endless contingent of waitstaff marched into the room in double-file lines. They continued onto the stage, taking the left and right side accordingly. Each one held either an enormous bottle of champagne or a tray full of empty glass flutes.

"Jaina," Mon paused dramatically, "it was not long ago that you shared in the wedding of another friend."

Beside Jag, she nodded, then looked up to mouth one word: "Mirta."

"She wishes in turn to share in your celebration," Their host indicated the wall of champagne bottle-wielding waitstaff, "with a toast. And to help in raising our glasses I give you Jedi Grand Master Luke Skywalker."

The surprise was intriguing, but Jag found the pressing matter of the Rogue bet still demanded his attention. He played the part of a dutiful groom, dipping down to bestow a quick kiss on his bride's cheek, and took the opportunity to whisper, "Target?"

The shake of her head was almost imperceptible. As Luke headed for the dais, she spared a quick love-struck glance at Jag. "Not a chance. Can't have you getting complacent."

So the game was on, was it? There were other ways of extracting the pertinent information, but none of them accommodated a crowd of hundreds watching their every move. Which brought him back to the moment, and Luke Skywalker stepping into the spotlight.

"First, to my niece – I promise, no prophecies tonight."

They'd both been holding their breath. When the words were spoken, Jag felt himself exhale. Jaina, however, did not. Arm around him, her fingers dug into his side while she rolled her former Master's necklace between her other fingertips. More than anyone, Jag understood the toll exacted on Jaina for carrying the mantle of Sword of the Jedi. He had fought her fate and lost her. Ultimately, he had been the one to accept her role before even she had been willing to.

"Tonight I'm just your uncle." The Grand Master's blue eyes focused on Jaina, with a look Jag knew all too well. Jedi had a way of gazing into a person's soul and seeing the truth inside. When the other person also happened to be a Jedi, they expressed emotion in a silent conversation of sorts. The exchange was over in the blink of an eye. Her hand left the necklace and extended across her body as a second way to hold onto Jag. He laced his fingers with hers, and Jaina finally let out her breath.

"It's hard to reconcile the little rambunctious grease monkey I once knew with the beautiful woman standing before me. I remember how much hope and expectation filled your parents' hearts when you were born. Not until I was blessed with Ben did I truly understand what your father had tried to tell me shortly after your birth, that the promise of our child's life is the very core of what we fight for.

"Sometimes, though, all we know is the struggle, and we forget why we fight so hard. It's for moments like this, for people like you, and for love like you two share. Jaina, there was a time when you alone stood tall in that fight, no longer an innocent life we needed to protect, but rather our protector. Just like that little grease monkey who worked tirelessly with Chewbacca to fix the Falcon's hyperdrive, you never bemoaned the task laid out before you. At times we've taken that quiet certitude for granted, because you have always been there, always tried your best to do the right thing. Always remember, Jaina, I am very proud of you. I love you.

"You are truly blessed by a love that has survived the test of time, and will be remembered long past this life. That is more than most can hope for."

With a nod of his head, Luke signified his toast was complete. Jag thought he might succumb to the bittersweet undertones of the moment, especially when he caught sight of the lone tear trickling down Jaina's cheek. Then suddenly the room erupted with hundreds of earsplitting pops. Instinct kicked in. Jag spun, shielding Jaina with his body. He reached for his sidearm, which of course wasn't there.

Beneath him, her body quivered. The noise had stopped. He shifted Jaina in his arms so he could see her face. There was no sign of pain or hurt, only mirth, as her eyes gazed up at him.

Then she giggled. "Neat Jedi trick, huh?"

Jag glanced up. The guests all looked surprised. Some assessed his awkward position with a tinge of amusement, but most were staring at the dais. Jag's green eyes searched for whatever drew their attention, and he found Luke Skywalker holding a flute filled with champagne. The Jedi saluted him jauntily.

"To the bride and groom."