While Luke and Ben returned to their own quarters for the night, providing Anakin some space to cope with the day's revelations, Han and Leia had set up their guest room for Anakin's use. Jaina stayed the evening at her parents' quarters, helping them get Anakin settled then spending the late hours at his bedside along with Allana. Leia had turned on cartoons on the holo display for the child, but could make out the murmurs of chatter and laughter between the three all evening.
Leia couldn't describe the relief it gave her, seeing that uncle, aunt, and niece appeared to be adjusting quite well to each other. It was one of her greatest hopes that the three might provide some support to each other following the recent chaos in their lives. If her granddaughter could just find comfort and trust in the adults so new to her, if Jaina could find joy in the family now surrounding her, if Anakin could find stability …
Stars above, Leia found herself begging the Force, hoping it had the sentience or ability to hear her silent prayer. Please heal my family. Take these broken shards and build us a new foundation. Let us smile again. Please.
The last thing Leia wanted to do was interrupt this first time they shared together, but it was growing late and she knew her daughter and son needed their rest as much as the young child did. Regretfully, Leia opened the door and leaned inside. Allana sat closest to Jaina on the bed, but faced Anakin, listening to her aunt and uncle talk while they shared the assortment of snacks Jaina had pillaged from the kitchen pantry.
"Allana," Leia called softly. "It's bedtime."
Immediately, the little girl frowned, brows drawn together in remorse. "But I want to stay up with Uncle Anakin and Aunt Jaina."
Just as Leia's heart swelled at the sound of those titles, Leia caught in the corner of her vision both her daughter and son blushing, pupils wide in surprise. This was as new to them as the title of 'grandma' was to her. Perhaps, just as shocking and surreal, too.
"I know, sweetheart, but it's late, and we already let you stay up past your bedtime. Anakin and Jaina will both be here tomorrow. Say goodnight and then Grandpa and I will tuck you in. Come on."
Leia held out her arm in invitation to her granddaughter who reluctantly slipped off the bed and padded across the room to follow her out. With Han, she tucked her into bed, asked about her day, if she enjoyed spending time with Jaina and Anakin. Then, they both left a kiss on her forehead and bid her goodnight.
Leia followed her husband into their bedroom, set about grabbing her nightwear and preparing for bed. It had become a ritual for Han to help her take down her hair at night, and she sat on the edge of their mattress so he could start combing through her tresses.
It was there, in the peace of their bedroom, the warmth of her husband's body within her touch, that she could finally unwind, reflect on her day, sort through her feelings and mood, let it all come to rest. "We made it," she murmured with her first full breath.
Han's fingers worked gently through her hair, carefully pulling out the single tie holding together her braid and unweaving the overlapping sections. "One more hard day down," he agreed.
"How many must we still suffer through?"
"Hey, today wasn't so bad. It was hard, but not bad. Allana got to meet her uncle, Anakin got to meet Ben. Now he can see the past fourteen years haven't been all bad."
"No. But they've been so hard without him."
"Now, that time is over. Behind us." Han's hands moved from her scalp to her shoulders, squeezing once reassuringly. "No more hard years without him."
Pulling out of his hold and away to face him, she said firmly, "You don't have to hold me up anymore. I can stand, I can face this. We can face this. This isn't like when we lost him and I needed you to be my rock. Our hearts, our lives, our family are all fuller now. But our son needs us. He needs you, Han."
"He's got me."
"No," Leia shook her head mournfully. "He doesn't. You've distanced yourself ever since he woke up. You've put yourself a step behind me, and you've hardly spoken to him."
"Leia," he winced.
"Han, you can't glaze over the friction that was still rubbing between the two of you before. You can't move on and neither can he until you sort it out."
"You really think that's what he needs after everything we've already thrown at him? Remind him what I said to him before he left?"
"Yes, and you need it too." At his sigh, Leia delivered him a stern glare. "How many times have I been there with you when you were struggling just as much as me? How many times have you told me you wish you could go back, talk to him one more time, mend the distance between the two of you? Or, tell him once how much you loved him. How many nights have I held you while you've grieved over the last things you said to him, the way you treated him after Chewie's death? Even before he and the team left for Myrkr, you remember that meeting on Eclipse when Anakin proposed the strike team mission. You remember when you tried shooting down his plan, and how hard he took that. I haven't forgotten. And, Han? He hasn't either."
"Yeah, well, it was easier when I didn't have to face him." It was harsh, but it was the truth.
"And now you don't want to face him?"
"You know that's not it, Leia."
"Then, talk to me. Tell me why you haven't hardly spoken to Anakin or even begun to face the parsecs between you and your son. He's happy to see you now, back from death, but he'll remember. If you continue to let it pass, he'll drift away again. And what is all of this if not a second chance?"
"I know that! Kriffing hell, I know! And who's to say I'm not gonna' kriff it up again?"
"Oh, Han …"
She should have realized this, Leia considered; though, she'd been preoccupied with her own grief and confusion. And just as he had always been whenever Leia had needed him, Han had been equally busy supporting her. Still, it should have occurred to her before what more lay behind his fear. Now, as she took the time to study her husband of over thirty years … she saw everything in his eyes, all the pain and words he wouldn't say.
And who's to say I'm not gonna' kriff it up again?
Just like I did with Jacen.
With her chin turned down and eyes cast upward to look at him, Leia slowly strode back to their bed, sat on the mattress with one leg still planted to the floor. "We've made it this far, dear," she reminded him, her tone just more than a deep whisper. "He wants his father. Just as much as we want our baby."
Han huffed behind closed lips, the sound sticking in his throat. "You can tell, huh?"
"Mhm," Leia nodded. "Because I'm his mother. And if you opened yourself back up to him, you would see, too."
Leia watched as his chest rose and deflated with a great and heavy but silent sigh.
"I remember— seeing him." Han's gaze turned distant, and Leia just held his hand, anchoring him to the here and now, to her. "When Jaina brought him back with her to Hapes. And they put him on a repulsor sled and covered his body. And we dressed him. In some clean clothes and robes. And Luke put him on that big stone and lit his body with a torch. And we stood there and watched, and I held you. And I tried not to lose my kriffing mind."
His shoulders shook and Leia almost didn't believe it when tears began running from his eyes. She crawled fully onto the bed and kneeled before him, taking his face between her hands. "You've been holding it in for so long. Let go, Han. Let me hold you for once."
She opened her arms to him, and Han dutifully collapsed into her embrace. His labored breaths were warm against her neck as he buried his face in her hair and held her like she was the one thing holding together his entire world.
Leia could hardly recall another time when he'd let himself fall apart— even in front of her. Not like this. Not so wholly and purely, without covering his grief in bitter rage. That's how he'd gotten through Chewie's death— until circumstances had forced him from his period of mourning to return to their family, to her.
Leia held him close, her arms wrapped around beneath his, but she let him clutch at her like he was the one holding her; one arm was bound tightly across her shoulders while his other hand held the back of her head in his palm, her unbound hair pooling between his spread fingers. His considerably larger frame shook around hers, and that was the only thing Leia tried to quell as she returned his embrace, trying to hold him together just as he had her for so long.
"It's okay," she tried to assure him. And, this time, it was mostly true. "It's okay, dear. We have our baby boy back. He's here with us. He's alive and healthy and safe."
Without saying it, she tried to tell him, You didn't fail him, Han. You didn't fail either of our sons. Neither of us did.
Leia wasn't sure at what point in time they had begun to lose Jacen and how, but she was certain that she and Han had raised him up with all the love and support they'd had in them. Whatever had happened, whatever disconnect had cropped between them, that wasn't a concern for now.
Gently, she shrugged out of Han's embrace, moved her hands to his face, made him look at her. "Promise me—"
"I know," he rasped, his voice still thick with his tears.
"Han." Leia caressed his face, stroked her thumb along his cheek. He just nodded, eyes closed, face held between her small hands. She stretched one thumb to erase a tear. "Talk to him. Please."
Han nodded again. "Tomorrow."
She kissed him.
Reaching to grab her wrists, keeping her hands where they framed his face, Han leaned in to nuzzle her face with his nose. "I love you," he whispered.
"I know."
"I can't believe Mom and Dad are … grandparents."
Reclining beside him, Jaina snorted. "I don't think they can, either. They've fallen into it seamlessly, but they haven't had much time with Allana; she's still getting used to them as much as they are to her."
Anakin's forehead pinched, and he asked her, "Jacen really kept her from you guys?"
"'Kept' almost implies that we knew about her; and Jacen never granted us that much." Jaina sighed, and Anakin watched in his peripheral vision as she fidgeted, picking at her nails. "When the Queen Mother had an heir, it was galactic breaking news— the tabloids wrote about hardly anything else for over a week. From the time the announcement was made by Tenel Ka's staff, it made sense she would want to maintain her privacy, and to protect the privacy of her child. But it became apparent very quickly that there was something— off about the baby. Months passed and she refused to release holos of the baby; the only thing she said was that it was a girl. And her name months later. It was all speculation from there. Dad thought maybe the child had some blemish— you know how the Hapans are, then imagine if their heir was anything less than a perfect beauty." Jaina shrugged. "A few years passed and Tenel Ka still refused to let her be seen by the public. By anyone outside her most trusted staff, really."
Jaina went silent, pausing in the middle of her story. And though Anakin only had the most rough idea of a timeline of the events he'd missed, he grew the feeling that they were approaching the heavier subject of their brother's fall into the dark side. Anakin tried to prepare himself, tried to rationalize whatever his sister was about to tell him about Jacen with a different Jacen— a person, or just a body that was called Jacen but wasn't the Jacen he'd grown up with.
"When Jacen got involved in politics and inserted himself into office, he expected Tenel Ka to follow him; he wanted her fleet— Hapes's fleet— at his disposal. When she refused, he took Allana, threatened to kill her if Tenel Ka didn't commit her loyalty to the GA and his cause. Tenel Ka came straight to Master Skywalker, and he offered up the Order's help to get Allana back. He picked Mom and Dad to retrieve her while he, Ben, and Master Sebatyne distracted Caedus.
"I wasn't there with Mom and Dad, though I often wish I had been. Just to see Allana for that first time with them. But Mom said there was something familiar about her the moment she first saw her. She didn't have the time to pinpoint it while they were fleeing with Allana, but she told me she knew as soon as things calmed down and she and Dad sat Allana down to talk to her."
She paused again, and Anakin glanced his sister's way to see her eyes turn glassy, brown irises shining in the light of the holo display. She bit on her lower lip, swallowing what Anakin thought might have been a sob. But she didn't let one out, only let a tear or two fall before hastily wiping them away and clenching her jaw.
"I didn't get to meet her until— until after I stopped Caedus. Mom showed me a holo of her before then. Just this one holo they got of her— from Tenel Ka, I think. I made myself a copy, risked putting it on another holo just so I could hold it and look at it every night until I finally got to meet her."
For a moment, Anakin considered. "That wasn't so long ago, was it?"
Jaina shook her head. "Same time you came back to us. I saw her a couple days later for the first time, and it was just like Mom said. The moment I saw her, even if I hadn't already known … I saw him. All his good parts, all the memories I cling to. She carries them all."
The good parts— good parts of a lost soul. A soul Anakin didn't recognize as the brother he remembered, could hardly believe had existed.
Eventually, Anakin forced away thoughts of his brother, asking Jaina, "Tell me about Mom and Dad. They've been okay?"
"You mean …"
"Since I— died. Mom and Dad took care of each other?"
Jaina smiled just a little. "What does it look like?"
"Just tell me."
She nodded shortly. "It was hard on Mom. Really kriffing hard. Even in my own personal hell, I remember feeling Mom's anguish. I had to close her off. Well, I closed everyone off. Or, I closed myself off from everyone. But if I hadn't closed off Mom, I would have gone insane. She held herself together well enough when we got back. Coruscant had just fallen and Mom, Dad, Uncle Luke, and Aunt Mara were all on Hapes, and we met them there. We brought your body back with us—"
"You stayed in the grashal to grab my body?!"
"Worse. Tahiri, Zekk, Alema, and I went back. I knew Mom would want a funeral or memorial service for you. And we had one. I almost didn't go."
Silence.
Anakin turned to see Jaina looking at him. "Aren't you going to ask me why?"
He shrugged. "Should I be offended?"
Jaina shrugged. "I don't know."
Anakin sighed. "Why did you almost not go?"
"It was easier not to face it. To cut my losses and force myself not to feel anything at all."
Anakin frowned slightly, not trying to show his disapproval but to once again rationalize his memories of his big sister with these stories of a hardened defeatist. "That was your solution?"
She grimaced, but was quick to turn back the conversation. "Hey, I thought you asked about Mom and Dad."
"I'm not forgetting this."
Jaina just dismissed his concern with a shake of her head. "Dad told me she didn't sanisteam for days, didn't hardly sleep. He said she would be watching the HoloNet, sitting in silence, and at any given moment start sobbing. I know she lost weight. I know Dad had to make sure she ate. I know Dad held her together like a glued vase."
"But he was okay?"
"… I can't tell if that's judgment and bitter resentment, or a genuine question."
Anakin gave a small shrug, fighting to keep his emotions from surfacing on his face. He didn't know how to respond— so he didn't.
To his relief, Jaina didn't push him. "He wasn't okay, Anakin. But Mom was— she was going to lose herself. And Dad had to be strong enough to hold her together. It's not like it wasn't hard for him. He just … he didn't have the luxury of being able to show how much it hurt him. Mom was there for him when Chewie died, but she wasn't going to hold us all together this time. Dad knew if he let go, our family would fall apart."
"Seeing Mom after you died—" Jaina smiled bitterly. "That chipped away something in me. Growing up, I thought Mom was invincible. She was always the strongest person I knew, and I could never have imagined— seeing her on her knees like that. That was one of the hardest things."
Anakin's chest constricted as an image flashed across his mind: his mother, on her knees, hands curled tightly into fists as she pounded the floor, face red and wet with tears, mouth hanging open in the middle of a long and strangled cry, screaming her anguish. It made Anakin want to cry.
"She—" He shook his head, unsure of what he wanted to say. His mother had always been someone he'd quite looked up to, the strongest, most steady person he knew. Her faith, courage, and heart were unfailing.
"She is still the strongest person I know. She and Dad both came out of every level of Corellia's hells stronger. But I remember feeling her anguish, the neverending pain beneath pretty smiles, and wondering if it would have hurt her just as much if it had been me instead."
Before a beat could pass, Anakin's gaze whipped harshly back to his sister. "Of course—"
"I know that now. You're the one who thinks Dad misses Chewbacca more than you."
"I didn't— I— I know."
"But you're not convinced." Jaina nudged him with her elbow, despite it all … smiling. "Idiot. I thought you were smarter than that, little brother."
"I think that's enough about me and Dad."
Jaina fell back against her own nest of pillows, uttering a long-suffering sigh. "Fine."
"Just tell me— Mom's okay, now. Right?"
"She was. She made it out, I guess. But she did just lose her other son."
He swallowed. "What about you?"
"I played with the dark for a little while after you died." Jaina shrugged. "But it didn't make me feel any better. And I realized how that would kill Mom and Dad. So, I threw myself into the war effort until I ran myself into the ground."
"Kriff, Jaina."
"We've been through hell so many times, Anakin; it's becoming harder to see the light."
Kriffing hell.
This wasn't how Anakin had hoped to spend the night with his sister, but he supposed he had no one else to blame when he'd asked after their mother. In the last week, he'd heard enough stories of mourning to last him the rest of his second life. He didn't want to hear more about his mom crying over him or of his sister tangling with the darkness in the wake of his loss. Or of his own brother embracing that darkness until it swallowed him whole.
He'd had enough, Anakin thought, of Jaina's recap of fourteen apparently hellish years. He'd heard enough tales of death and suffering and grief. He met his niece today, a brand new piece to his family. He'd gotten to spend time with Ben, seen the wise, young man his baby cousin was becoming. And he'd spent this evening with his sister, lounging in their parents' guest room with snacks and holos like they were kids again.
That was all he wanted from today. To make more good memories to hold onto.
Anakin broke out a lopsided grin, glancing sideways at his sister as he offered, "Is having my lovable, handsome face back not enough?"
Jaina's brandy eyes lit with a furious fire, and it took Anakin by surprise when she abruptly turned and punched him in the shoulder, the full force of her fist striking hard and true. "Kriff you, Anakin! If you ever die on us again— by the Force, I kriffing swear—!"
Holding his arm which throbbed in pain, Anakin fell over onto the mattress, laughing.
"Karking hell! What the sithspawn is wrong with you!"
"Shut up!" he whispered as harshly as he could manage, still smirking. "Or Mom's gonna come in and—"
Jaina raised a brow, adopting an expression on her face that made her resemble their mother more than Anakin had ever seen. "What? We'll be in trouble? I'm thirty-two years old, Anakin—"
"Don't remind me."
"Besides, Mom isn't going to scold either of us if we're laughing."
"Don't forget you punched me."
Jaina turned a taunting, sour pout on him. "Does it hurt?"
"As soon as Cilghal clears me, we're taking this to a sparring ring."
"So I can dump you even harder on your ass?" Jaina's eyes sparkled with thrill. "Deal."
She was still chuckling seconds later, so Anakin counted his success and decided to press his luck. "Why did you go back for my body?"
He didn't know why he wanted to know so badly. He'd meant to ask her for more good memories, maybe tease her about the Imperial baron's son he vaguely remembered Jaina to be smitten with. At least, that's what Jacen had told him was going on. He'd meant to ask her more about her life, what made her happy, what kind of duties she fulfilled for the Jedi Order now. Anything other than this. But his thoughts were drawn right back every time, and he got the feeling Jaina's would too. What else was there to do? Maybe his apparent masochism would be fulfilled if both he and Jaina emptied themselves of all the pain and horror they were holding in. Maybe, if they reached down, down, down into that dark hole until there was nothing left … there would finally be light at the bottom.
At least, he hoped.
"You really want to talk about this?"
"I think I need to know."
"Would you have gone back for Chewie's body if you could have?" Anakin grimaced, but Jaina didn't wait for a response. "Of course, you would have. Because even if a soul moves on in the Force— even if a body is nothing more than a lifeless husk at that point— I wasn't going to leave my little brother to rot in a grashal. Not for the Vong to maim. Not for anyone else to have. I was going to bring you back home. Because I needed as much of you as I could carry. Until I was forced to let go."
"I gave orders—"
"I remember."
"So, why didn't you follow them?"
"I made sure they were followed. Spare me, Anakin. I've spent the last fourteen years regretting that one choice, thinking maybe I could have saved Jacen if I hadn't run off."
Anakin was glad she didn't turn her cold stare on him and ask if he would have gone back if it had been her dead body. He didn't want to think about it.
"We even fought to get your damned lightsaber back. Took us until the end of the war, but we got it."
"Us?"
"Me, Mom, Dad, Jacen, Uncle Luke, Tahiri."
"You have it?"
Jaina rolled her lips together. "Yeah, it's safe."
"What about Tahiri?"
A thick silence slowly settled across the room, and Anakin held his breath.
One beat.
Two.
Three.
"Goodnight, Anakin."
"Oh, come on!" Anakin choked on a despairing laugh, something in his gut twisting into anger. "You still won't consider giving me this one thing? I don't need your protection, Jaina. I just need to know."
Frozen in the doorway, Anakin thought for a moment that his sister might finally be reconsidering. But she stood there for only a second before passing through the doorway and vanishing without another word.
Despite the moments of levity he'd tried to bring about and the laughs he'd shared with his sister, Anakin found his nightmares returning with a sadistic fervor. Granted, he struggled to fall asleep in the first place as thoughts of a hellish decade and a half swirled through his mind. Part of himself was glad to have missed it while another part wondered if it somehow would have been easier to live through every moment rather than face it all at once.
Maybe, Aunt Mara and Jacen would still be here if I'd never died.
There was no way to know, of course, but the endless possibilities of a thousand alternate realities including the one he was now living would not leave his mind. He tried to think about Jaina, but all he saw was Jacen. He tried to envision his parents relieved and happy, but all he saw was loss and eternal grief. He tried to reach for Tahiri, but all he found was a deep, black maw.
Settled with the fact that he would not be getting any sleep tonight, Anakin quietly crept from his bedroom, and was surprised when he wasn't intercepted by his overly-concerned mother. He couldn't express how glad he was to have her so near, but he could use a moment away, just a moment to try and wrap his head around this new reality.
He tiptoed his way to the living room, unsure of what he was hoping for to occupy himself. Quickly enough, however, Anakin caught his eye on the holos adorning the walls. The wall and shelf space leading up to and in the living room were littered, some actual holos, even more still ones. The first one his gaze settled on was familiar— almost painfully so. There, suspended above a caf table near the entrance to the living room was a small moving holo of his family on Eclipse. Anakin himself with Jaina, Jacen, Mom, and Dad shortly before he and his siblings had left for Myrkr.
There were dozens more that Anakin remembered— and even more he didn't. Holos of his childhood, of him and his siblings playing holoball in the courtyard of their Coruscant home, of a four-year-old Anakin sitting in the circuitry bay with his father as Han explained the different wires and valves they were working with.
Past the memories of his childhood, however, began a timeline of moments he knows came after the strike mission. One of the first he sees is of his twin siblings facing each other, laughing as they both raise a shot glass in what looks like celebration, brand new Jedi robes hanging over their shoulders. One that appears to have been taken the same day shows Jaina, Jacen, Tahiri, Tenel Ka, Lowbacca, Zekk, Alema, and Tesar all lined up, embracing each other.
There was one of Jaina and their mom both dressed up, makeup done, Leia in all white save for a pair of dangling jade earrings. They stand tightly side by side with cheeks pressed together as they both make silly faces at the camera. And it struck Anakin that it was almost hard to tell the difference between the two women.
The next one he saw was from the same occasion. There was his mom in a long, white dress, a sheer shawl hanging off her bare shoulders. And then his dad— holding her hand as she twirled before him, Han staring at her with a small lopsided smile, eyes practically glazed over with stars as he watched her, looking at her like she was the center of his universe, the center of his gravity. It's a reenactment of their wedding day, Anakin realizes as he recalls an older still-holo his mother had always kept hung above her and his father's bed— a candid shot of the two dancing at their wedding, Han spinning Leia just like he is in this holo.
There are plenty more happy memories gracing the walls, depicting the past fourteen years without him. There are family dinners with his parents, Jaina, Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara, Ben. Some with Jacen, some without. There are birthday parties for Ben, evening dinners with just his parents and aunt and uncle, so many lunches and missions and any moment his parents can seem to find with Jaina and Jacen.
And it kind of looked like a normal family.
Anakin wasn't sure how to feel about it, what to make of the missing years and the unknown stories— or the moments in between holos he knew they were trying to bury. But, for the moment, he was spared as a flicker in the Force caught his attention. Anakin straightened, sensing an approaching presence, and he slowly turned to see Allana padding silently to the living room.
She looked like a child caught sneaking a treat when she knew she wasn't allowed one, but she did not submit to Anakin's gaze or lower her chin in fear. Really, she didn't appear to feel any guilt at all being caught up so late. If anything, she held her head higher, acknowledging him before continuing past him, almost daring him to question her behavior. Not that Anakin saw any reason to question the child or accuse her of disobedience— he wanted to be a more fun uncle, anyway.
Instead, he tried to offer a soft smile, opening his presence to her in a warm gesture. "What are you doing out here?" he asked gently.
"I couldn't sleep."
"Did you have a nightmare?"
The small girl nodded shyly, wiping at tired eyes as she padded into the living room. "I have a lot of nightmares."
"I'm sorry. Have you told Mom and Dad about them yet? I used to have a lot of nightmares when I was a kid, too, and they always knew how to comfort me and help me fall asleep."
Allana seemed to curl in on herself— literally, as she crawled onto the couch and pulled a hefty blanket around herself. "Sometimes. But not about these ones."
"These ones? Why not?"
She hesitated, gray eyes flickering his way cautiously. "Sometimes, I have bad dreams about Jacen."
Anakin froze.
"If I told Grandma and Grandpa about those, it would just make them sad."
"What … what are your dreams about Jacen— what happens in them?"
"It's just stuff in my head that I wish I could get out. Stuff I remember."
"Memories?"
Allana nodded. "He was angry a lot. And scared. When he took me and kept me from Mommy, he felt … dark. Like a big thunderstorm. It was scary."
"I—" Anakin cleared his throat. "I never knew a Jacen like that. He was never dark when I knew him."
Allana took a moment to consider this, and Anakin took the silence to consider how he would respond if Allana didn't agree with him. He understood that Jacen had done terrible things to her, however unintentionally, that he had brought an abrupt end to his own daughter's innocence and youth. It was only understandable if Allana only associated her father with anger and darkness and hatred.
"He wasn't always dark and angry and scared," she finally spoke, some little light flickering in the back of her eyes, like the small spark of a distant memory. "I remember he used to play with me and visit all the time. He always smiled at me, and he always gave me the best hugs. Mommy said that he loved me a lot; he just didn't always know how to show it."
Anakin didn't know what to say to that, how to respond to Allana's confusion about her father when he very much felt the same confusion. The man she was describing, her Jacen, sounded more like some diametrical alternate universe version of Anakin's own big brother. And, perhaps, his big brother would seem like a fantastical dream version of the father Allana had. Anakin could only pray he might one day help Allana understand who Jacen had been. Briefly, he considered that meant he would also have to face the reality that his Jacen was one and the same as Allana's nightmares.
"What was he like when you knew him?"
"He was kind and gentle. And loving. He was full of a lot of love. And— do you know what compassion means?"
Allana nodded, a small, proud smile pulling at her lips. "Compassion means to care for others' and their needs."
"Right. Well, Jacen had a lot of compassion. For everyone he met, for friends, for animals. He really loved animals and caring for them."
Allana's small jaw fell open and she gaped. "I like animals."
"I think animals are cool, but not as much as Jacen. He could talk for hours about animals and all the stuff he knew. I learned a lot of facts about animals from him whether I wanted to or not. For instance, did you know crystal snakes can harden and soften their scales to better refract light?"
Allana smiled. "I know that."
"What about your friend?" Anakin asked, gesturing with a nod to the plush toy squished between her folded arms. "What kind of animal is she?"
"He," Allana corrected gently. "And he's a tauntaun. Jacen gave him to me. So, I named him Jacen." The little girl took a moment to study her toy, picking at a loose thread in its stitching. "I don't want to change his name."
"I think Jacen is still a good name for him."
Allana nodded shortly. "Because Jacen was good. Darth Caedus was bad." Then, her bright eyes flashed back to Anakin, and she asked, "Will you tell me more good stories about my dad?"
At that moment, Anakin wished he'd had someone in his life when he'd been a child who had known his grandfather, his namesake, Anakin Skywalker. Perhaps, if he'd grown up hearing more good stories of his grandfather, it would have been easier to wear his name, to live in his legacy. It filled Anakin with joy and hope to think he could do that for Allana.
He didn't know if this would really help his niece, but as long as she was asking …
Anakin nodded. "As many as you want."
In a far too innocent gesture that Anakin suspected may have been an act, Allana dropped her chin nearly to her chest, looking up at him with vaguely pouting lips and big round eyes behind her eyelashes. "Tell me one now?"
Anakin didn't hesitate. "Okay."
Upon realizing that he wouldn't be getting any more sleep than Allana would, he encouraged the girl back to bed following a short story Anakin recounted of Jacen's first pet snake he'd kept on Yavin in their Academy days. With less prodding than he'd expected, Allana obliged, requesting only a goodnight hug before she waved and scampered off to bed.
Still restless, Anakin saw that the girl returned to her room, then quietly crept out of his parents' quarters.
He'd been meaning to ask Jaina for a tour of the Academy, but he figured showing himself around wasn't too poor a second option. The halls were silent and dark at this hour of the night save for the dim night settings of the light sconces lining the walls. The corridors were plain and nearly featureless, all the same with each turn Anakin took.
He was hardly aware of every turn he made, though he felt increasingly compelled with each step he took— like there was some invisible string pulling him along a predetermined path. He didn't have the mind to bother about it until he found himself in the dimly lit cafeteria of the academy.
The space was dark and silent, nearly lifeless save for the lone figure hunched over a caf table. Somehow, he didn't need the Force to know who it was.
"Tahiri."
As if just becoming aware of his presence, her head swung up sharply and she looked his way. Far enough that Anakin couldn't make out more than the shape of her face and the silhouette of her trimmed curls bound in a single band, Anakin yearned to approach her but her cool presence held him at bay. When he did summon the courage to take a step forward— two, three, four, five— she stood as though to meet him, then brushed past.
"Wait, where are you going? I've been looking for you."
"I don't think you know what you're talking about," she said without looking at him.
Smoothly, Anakin stepped in front of her before she could take another step past him. "But I want to talk to you."
"I don't know who you are, and you certainly don't know me."
"What do you mean—"
"I can't help you," she said darkly, stepping past and shoving him aside with a push of the Force.
"Tahiri, please—"
"I'm busy."
"Busy?"
But she didn't grant him another word before vanishing.
He saw— himself. Or, his body, laid to rest on a plain cot, a thin and frail blanket draped across his body from his toes to just under his chin where it was pulled back. His face was pale, lifeless, not a flicker of light to be found in a shadowed and haunted complexion. But beside his all-too-still form was Tahiri. She lay curled up beside him in a dark alcove, her blood-matted and dirt-streaked blonde head rested lightly against his cold shoulder. And she talked to him, whispering into the dark emptiness, telling him of their escape. Her words were no more than mere sound to him as he saw her occasionally snuggle closer to his body, burrowing her own form into his side as if she waited for him to embrace her back.
The dark image washed away, replaced with a scene still dark with the cover of night. Anakin once again saw himself first, his lifeless form now cleaned up, the blood and dirt washed off his face, hair brushed, mussed gently. His body lay on a raised platform— a pyre, he realized as his vision expanded to show a dozen or so torches standing guard around him, lighting the display for the gathered crowd which stood vigil in a circle around his pyre.
A small figure stepped into the circle and Anakin recognized Tahiri. She was surrounded in shadows, her face dark yet empty. "Anakin saved my life," she spoke into the night, to the gathered mourners. "The Yuuzhan Vong locked my body in a cage and tried to do the same thing with my mind. Anakin came to Yavin IV, alone, and brought me out."
She stood there for a moment, her gaze drawn to his still form, feet planted to the earth. When Anakin saw her face, lips parting in something like anticipation, she didn't move a centi, but he thought he could sense her leaning forward— perhaps, preparing to— like she was ready to follow him one more time …
The image churned and Anakin found himself looking at two Tahiris— nearly mirror versions of the same young woman facing each other save for the tattoos and numerous scars on one.
Riina.
They faced each other with such determination, desperation clear in their fiery eyes. With lightsabers in hand of each, the stood poised and ready to strike.
"I will not succumb," the more recognizable Tahiri swore, standing still on her two firm feet. "I am Tahiri Veila; I am a Jedi Knight!"
"And I am Riina of Domain Kwaad," the other all but snarled. "I shall not succumb, either."
But following the most subtle change to the scenery, Anakin now saw the two reaching for each other, taking hands as they turned to face an imposing darkness.
We must embrace.
Our emotions, our lives, our selves.
The good and the bad.
The light and the dark.
In an instant, the picture was washed away, changing to an older Tahiri that Anakin had seen in a vision before. She stood across from Jacen, feet planted and arms crossed in an independent stance even as she all but begged him, "When can we go back again?"
Jacen didn't shrug or smile or frown, didn't bother to sugarcoat some empty promise. Not even some poor attempt at the sympathy he didn't feel. "I'm very busy right now, as I'm sure you realize."
"This isn't healthy for me," Tahiri argued, the need in her eyes quickly becoming apparent, what was left of her resolve slipping away. "You can't keep pulling us back before I'm ready."
"Then pick our destination more carefully," Jacen suggested. "Something that isn't so emotionally charged for you."
But Jacen's words were poisoned honey, and Anakin could see that Tahiri knew, and still she lapped it up.
Jacen disappeared as the scene shifted again, this time transforming into a sleek and elegant docking bay. Rather than Tahiri, the first figures Anakin saw were instead those of his parents. They faced a small squad of military servicemen— women, all of them. What branch, Anakin had no idea, but he did recognize the badge of the Hapes Consortium proudly stamped on the breast of their uniforms.
"We came alone, Captain," his mother spoke. "What escort are you referring to?"
"That would be me."
Stepping into view was Tahiri, dressed in all black, a form-fitting flight suit with thick, glossy boots, and even gloves to match.
Before them, the captain of the guard frowned. "You told approach control that you were with the Solos."
"In a way, I am," she said simply. "I'm here to detain them."
"Detain us?" Anakin's mother was already marching down the boarding ramp, glaring at Tahiri with red, puffy eyes. "Don't tell me you're with Jacen."
"Somebody has to be. He's only doing what's necessary to save the Alliance."
From behind his mother, his father was hurrying to catch up, gently taking his wife's arm as they approached Tahiri. "You're too smart to buy that. What's he got on you, anyway?"
"On me?" Tahiri tried to throw the words back at Anakin's father, tried to mock him, but the words clearly marked a target, and she looked away, perhaps trying to steel herself. From Anakin's vantage point— years later, planets away— he could sense her guilt. "Nothing. I'm only doing what's right. Anakin would want me to support Jacen."
"Anakin?" The grief and torment evident in her cry. Leia tore free of Han's grasp, and Anakin would have to have been blind to miss the second when Tahiri reached for her lightsaber.
"You think this is what Anakin would want? His mother and his girlfriend trying to kill each other?"
It all washed away again until there was just Tahiri, standing alone in an empty locker, holding a blaster in one hand, panting as she tried to find her feet, slinking back to the nearest wall and sliding to the floor like a helpless child.
Her comm rang.
"Did you finish the job yourself, Tahiri?"
Where she sat, Tahiri swallowed her pant, trying to force her voice to still before she responded. "I— I shot him, sir."
"You've probably saved the Galactic Alliance."
"I didn't feel much of a savior," she admitted, the shakiness returning despite her best efforts.
"Are you ashamed, Tahiri? Are you ashamed because you killed an old man?"
"It's not quite the heroic role I had in mind."
"But you did it."
"Yes."
"Tahiri, in the long term, it's easier to kill a powerful enemy than it is an apparently weak one. If you bring down a giant, you're a hero. If you kill something weak—even if it has to die—then you endure contempt. Being willing to be despised to serve the common good… that's the mark of a true Sith. You're going to make a fine apprentice for me, Tahiri."
"Oh. I'm… official, then."
"I'll come for you, Tahiri. I won't abandon you."
I won't abandon you.
I won't abandon you.
I won't abandon you.
Tahiri stood in a blindingly bright room, adorned in the same shade of black from shoulders to toes. Beside her on a flat metal bunk was a man Anakin didn't know or recognize. Across from her— Ben.
The man lying beside Tahiri was pale, blue veins showing like a moon moth hatchling still wrapped in its cocoon. His lips were cracked, hair frail and patchy, skin simply pallid.
"There's only one way you're going to stop this, Ben," Tahiri was saying, leaning toward the young boy, a cruel smile fixed to her lips. "How much pain are you willing to cause your friend?"
"A lot less than I'm willing to cause you," Ben replied.
The regret and hurt in Tahiri's expression was devastatingly genuine. "I'm sorry to hear that."
The nearly lifeless man on the table bucked and spasmed, jumping between screaming bloody murder and crying such shrill tones of absolute silence.
Alarmed, Tahiri swung to an MD droid on stand-by. "What's wrong? You told me he was completely awake."
"The prisoner is as conscious as medical stimulants can make him. He has simply grown accustomed to the pain you are inflicting on him. That's the only reasonable hypothesis."
"Not the only one," Tahiri said, turning to Ben.
Ben shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're lying, Ben." When Tahiri raised her hand, tiny forks of Force lightning began to dance between her fingertips. "I don't think your mother would have approved."
Before Ben could respond, Tahiri moved her hand to rest on half-healed burns on the man's torso. Her fingers lit with that crackling blue energy, and a monitor immediately burst into chaos as alarms rang out and lines ran flat.
The MD droid's head shifted to the side. "Prisoner Nine-Zero-Three-Two-Bee-Tee has expired."
Tahiri's gaze swung to the droid, to the man under her touch, and she stepped away like she suddenly didn't know where she was. "Do something!" she shouted. "Revive him!"
"Stop it," Ben bit out. "You can't bring him back. This is just beating up the body."
"The prisoner is correct," the droid affirmed. "Magnetic imaging confirms that Prisoner Nine-Zero-Three-Two-Bee-Tee suffered a stress rupture of the aorta."
Tahiri's jaw fell, and Anakin watched as her own face grew as cold and lifeless as the body beside her.
"You should be proud, Tahiri," Ben spoke quietly, but the power of his words rang through the room. "Now you're just like your master."
One more time, Anakin's head spun as the room blew away, twisting and turning and transforming until it gave way to a tactical salon aboard some starship. Jacen— or, Caedus— stood before a great holodisplay, watching a space battle play out. All around him, alarms shrieked in frenzied warning, but he stood there, still, confident.
In contrast, Tahiri stood just behind him, clearly frantic and uneasy. "The Moffs are in a bad state," she reported. "They're afraid we're going to lose the war."
"Lose? Haven't they been viewing the intelligence briefings?"
"They're more concerned about our situation here." Restlessly, Tahiri shifted from foot to foot. She tried to portray the same confidence the Sith Lord carried as she added, "Actually, so am I."
"I appreciate the warning, Tahiri," Caedus said. Anakin swore he could see a smile lurking at the edge of his lips. "I'll be sure to reassure them."
"That might prove difficult, my lord," Tahiri said. "Even for you."
She turned her gaze down to her feet, and Anakin knew Caedus could sense her gathering her courage.
"Tahiri, how long have we known each other?" he asked. "Tell me."
Tahiri nodded, then looked back to him. "There's something they're keeping from us. I can feel it when I'm around them."
Caedus smiled. "Of course they're keeping something from us," he said. "They're Moffs."
Tahiri didn't share in his humor. "They don't trust your abilities yet— not really," she said. "It might be better if we had never been ambushed."
"It's hard to argue against that," Caedus said. "But I don't see what it has to do with our situation."
"Fix it," Tahiri suggested. "I think that's what it's going to take to keep their faith."
"Fix it how?" Now, there was a smile, but Caedus quickly suppressed it before turning to face Tahiri fully. "Are you under the impression I can change the past?"
Tahiri froze, and it took no more for a chill to begin encompassing the room, growing in every corner. "Well … yeah. You did it for me."
Caedus feigned sudden clarity. "The kiss, you mean."
"What else? You flow-walked me back to the battle on Baanu Rass, and I kissed Anakin. If you could do that, why not flow-walk back and warn someone about the ambush?"
Anakin could do nothing but watch as Caedus placed a hand on Tahiri's shoulder, and he wanted to reach out, rip his hand off Tahiri, shove him back, curse at him. Whatever it took to keep him from Tahiri forever.
"Tahiri, I'm about to tell you something that's going to make you very angry. I want you to feed on its power, because you're going to need it before this last battle is over. But if you let it take control, you'll be lost. You'll never be any good to me again. Can you handle that?"
Tahiri's confusion turned to distress. "What is it?" she demanded. "Are you telling me it wasn't real? That when we flow-walked back to see Anakin, we were just—"
"The flow-walking was real," Caedus interrupted. "We did return to the battle at Baanu Rass, and you did kiss Anakin. But the past didn't change. It can't."
It wasn't fire that burned in Tahiri's eyes, but tears. Pain, betrayal, hurt. Another scar. "That makes no sense," she murmured. "If I really kissed him, then we changed the past."
Caedus shook his head. "When you drop a pebble into a river, what happens? There's a splash, and then the splash disappears. The splash is real, but the river doesn't change. It continues on just the same."
"But it does change," Tahiri objected. "Maybe you can't see it, but the pebble is still there, rolling along the bottom."
"And the kiss is still there, too," Caedus said, reaching out to gently tap Tahiri's temple. "In there. That's where the bottom of the flow is."
"In my mind?"
"In the way you perceive the past," he corrected, his expression as warm as Anakin had ever seen a Sith Lord's. "We went back to the battle on Baanu Rass, and you kissed Anakin. What changed? The past— or your memory of the past?"
Tahiri's face fell, and, with it, Anakin's heart.
He didn't need to see anymore, didn't want to. He was grateful when the vision zeroed in on Tahiri's stricken face, the crack spreading through her evident, and washed away with one great current, taking Anakin with it.
The last portion of this chapter used a lot of quotes you may recognize. All italicized dialogue was taken directly from the following novels, some paraphrased or shortened.
New Jedi Order: Dark Journey
New Jedi Order: Force Heretic II: Refugee
New Jedi Order: Force Heretic III: Reunion
Legacy of the Force: Inferno
Legacy of the Force: Fury
Legacy of the Force: Revelation
Legacy of the Force: Invincible