Jacen died in a cell, babbling until his last breath.

His twin had fought him; captured him; redeemed him; held him still as their uncle stripped the Force away from his essence. For three years, Jacen's broken body was able to hang on. He only left his bed to pace around the tiny, undisclosed room on Ossus.

"I just -- I think if Mom and Dad would give me a chance, I could prove myself! I could let the shryyi-lizard sleep in my bathtub, and I'm sure Anakin wouldn't mind because-- Jaina?"

For his sake, Jaina always held herself back from weeping. She put her hand over her mouth, and nodded. With wild, deeply-sunken eyes, her brother studied her, confused. He continued.

"Are you mad at me? You know, I didn't mean to wake you up. We don't have school, and I know you like to sleep in when we have the day off, but Mara said she'd take me flying and-- Jaina? What is it?"

Summoning all her training, Jaina smiled as wide as she could and managed a feeble, "It's okay, Jasa. It's okay."

If he was able to find solace in the rest of his short, pitiful life, Jaina would not deny him that right. Zekk and Jag attempted communication with her, and grew angry at her stubbornness. She refused to accept any shoulders to cry on. Her only concept of time was when she was able to slip her brother a tranquilizer, giving her a few hours of evening solitude. Climbing to the roof, watching the wildlife in the forest around her, Jaina could slip away. There was once a similar forest, on a destroyed planet, where three children ran and chased.

The entire time, Jacen never tried to kill himself. Jaina wouldn't have interfered.

---

When he hadn't eaten in two weeks, she knew it was almost over. There would be no valiant attempts. Jaina made the comm call to Coruscant.

"Sweetheart, you should have put that animal out of its misery when you had the chance."

Their mother held him as he passed away. Their father stood outside.

---

"Never thought I'd see the day where Leia Organa hugged the Emperor."

Emperor Jagged Fel grinned at his father-in-law's remark. Leia laughed, loosening her embrace. At 10 years old, Allana Djo was already far too mature to let her grandparents be mushy toward her in public; but today, she let Han hold her in the receiving line.

As always, Zekk was an honored guest at this party. He had denied himself the Moff title, as well as any position within the New Galactic Empire. He gripped his drink, fumbling with a thread on his robes. As Jag approached, Zekk tried to bow, but was stopped. Jag simply clamped a hand on his shoulder, smiled, and moved on. Friends. Equals.

Zekk shifted from foot to foot as he watched Empress Jaina Fel and Luke Skywalker consorting by themselves. He would have never believed it, but Luke appeared to be older than Han. Jaina's neck was long and arched back, nodding at her uncle's conversation. Half of this galaxy belong to her; she was more beloved by her people than Organa-Solo in the early days of the New Republic. The mechanic-at-heart had grown out of her youthful fear of regality. Her steps were grander, wider. In her soul was a strength more peaceful than any Sith or Jedi could have dreamed of. Jaina was beautiful, dark, as dangerous as ever.

The Empress finally approached Zekk, swaying with an inherited swagger.

He bowed.

She gave a lop-sided smirk.

Goddess.

---

The Imperial Knights swore allegiance to the Emperor and Empress before serving the will of the Force. It was simply a dogmatic difference, Zekk reasoned. The Knights were neither light nor dark. They were benevolent, but silent in the galactic affairs handled instead by the Jedi. He wondered if the Imperial Knights' neutrality could have saved Jacen.

Jaina's four sons grew to be as strong as her. Zekk watched her train each one through adulthood -- his heart fell when she ruffled their hair after sparring, the way a red-headed Master had done to her nephews. Lan was first to the throne after his father's death. Jaina stood with him on the day of his Coronation, eyes full of pride.

When Jag's cardiovascular system had failed, Jaina cried for the first time in forty years. As Jaina clutched Zekk in her bedchamber, she knew Jag wouldn't have minded.

He never did before.

---

At 132 years old, Jaina had buried more loved ones than she could count. They communed with her through the Force more often as the summer grew longer. Most voices comforted her, preparing for her grandest ascension. A few still begged for the forgiveness she had given decades ago, not truly believing her grace.

The courtyard of her favorite palace was adorned with imported greenery. A ball would bounce into a shrub, or a rough-housed doll would be flung into a tree. Jaina's great-grandchildren always knew to ask her to retrieve their toys for them -- even if she wasn't already wrapped around their fingers, her glee at exploring the flora rubbed off on them. The older children sometimes pointed to a species, explaining "Yavin" to the younger cousins.

Her bedchamber was a smaller one, but she preferred it that way. The aromas of the garden filtered through her window late at night. The spotlights in the courtyard gave the plantlife a neon glow against the black sky, reminding her of Coruscant.

"You never found your family, did you, Zekk?"

The old woman shifted as Zekk adjusted the woolen blanket around her with his wrinkled, hallowed hands. He drew back for a moment.

"What? I, no. You know that." He chuckled at his friend's bizarre declaration. "Come on, Sticks. You can't go looking for something you never lost."

He kissed her cheek, pushing back her white hair. Zekk was the only brother who never left her.

Jaina died in her bed, smiling until her last breath.