Title: Wingman
Author: T'Keira Lea
Timeframe: post-Invincible
Characters: Jagged Fel, Jaina Solo
Genre: Canon speculation
Keywords: Jaina, Jag, Legacy
Notes: Six parts
Summary: The epilogue every J/J fan wanted at the end of Invincible.

Disclaimer: Lucasfilm owns all the rights to Star Wars. I don't. No infringement is intended or profit to be made by me.

WINGMAN

one standard day after Chief of State Daala's inaugural address…

Part One

Only a couple of hours out of the bacta mist, Jaina's body already protested contact with the medbunk. The combination of new skin and ceaseless attempts to find some position that was comfortable weren't helping matters any. Her ribs ached. Her sternum throbbed; each breath came mildly painful at best, agonizing at worst. Her broken arm, immobilized in a bactacast, insisted on resting at a contorted angle. Her legs cramped intermittently. Her head pounded constantly.

Only moments before, Cilghal had left the convalescence suite. Jaina was still having trouble processing the myriad of medical treatments the Jedi Master had outlined to mend her broken body. A week straight of bacta dips, broken only by one surgical procedure after the next. Even then, they would have merely mended her body mechanically. It might be months before the resources would be available to fully repair the damage to her face.

She couldn't think about the shallow crater of her crushed cheekbone, or the hideous scar that drew attention to it even to the casual observer. And her hair…

The suite faded in a watery blur. Jaina turned her uninjured cheek to rest on the pillow. She shut her eyes, banishing the tears back from whence they came. Just beyond the door, voices carried on a whispered discussion. Jedi perceptions allowed her to catch fragments without even trying.

… any faster? ... hard on her … resources just aren't available ... bacta supplies at a premium …

Finally her father, crystal clear. "That's no kriffing excuse! How much more does she have to sacrifice?"

With simply a thought, Jaina willed the vidscreen's volume louder. She turned her stare straight ahead, and tried to focus on a program her father had chosen: an odd narrative series about the perils of tohalia crab fishing in the Hoth ice-seas. She couldn't imagine who had time to watch such a thing. But that wasn't as bizarre as the notion of what it would be like to have a holocam detailing your every move, only to have some random being edit the footage to increase the dramatic flair to mythical proportions.

She flicked the channel. Tree-fellers on Endor. Flick. The familial relationships of Tatooine desert-dwelling rodents. Flick.

"…news today, the peace conference stalled when the Alliance delegation leaders failed to reach agreement regarding Admiral Niathal's status in the –"

"So," came her father's voice, "how about a game of Falcon Command?"

Jaina continued to study the vidscreen. "You hate the idea of that game."

Han walked across the room and blocked her view. "I hate the idea of watching politicians at work even more."

The volume on the display began to soften, and the channel flicked back to the tree-fellers of its own accord. Her mother drifted into view, hovering over the medbunk. "Liar. You don't mind watching this politician."

"Yeah, well, at least you've got some good moves, Princess."

"Do you two need to get a room?" Jaina appreciated that her parents were doing their best these days to keep things lighthearted, but the trying to remind each other that there were things to live for, like each other, was just a little too desperate, and it only succeeded in producing a sinking feeling in her gut. Sometimes it sure didn't seem like there was much left for Jaina to live for. Maybe the Sword of the Jedi really was meant to stand alone forever, not just in the battle to the death with Caedus.

"Maybe I'll take you up on that game of Falcon Command, Dad."

From the suite's entrance, and male voice replied. "Would you be upset if I patched in as your wingman instead?"

"Jag." Jaina couldn't stop the smile forming on her lips – even if it did hurt like the Corellian Hells.

"Sorry I couldn't get here sooner." He crossed the room straight to her, and without the slightest hesitation bent over and placed his lips very gently against her brow.

A warm burst pulsed between them in the Force, soaring joyously upward like a crier bird on a hot air current. Yet an undertow of overwhelming grief kept it grounded.

From somewhere behind Jag, Han cleared his throat. At first Jag didn't move. Then the new head of the Imperial Moff Council turned away to acknowledge the room's other occupants. "Leia. Han. Could I have a word with you?"

Leia smiled politely. "Of course."

"Outside." Jag raised his hand, beckoning them to the door.

There was a brief glance between Jag and Leia, and only the slightest of flickers in her brown eyes before she touched Han's arm. "We'll be just a moment, sweetheart."

"But… I –" They were already gone – the door shut behind them – leaving Jaina to wonder what it was that made everyone think they could dismiss her like some fragile child. She had just decided to give the first person through the door a piece of her mind on that very subject when Jag stepped back into the room. The look in his eyes stopped her short, and made her worst fear realized. The enormous hollow ache in Jag's spirit confirmed her suspicion. "You're leaving."

"No." Jag reached her medbunk in an instant. "I'm not."

"I understand," she said, barely hearing herself. "Duty calls, and you've got all kinds of –"

Something squeezed her hand, and reality drew back from the unimaginable murk. "–isten to me," Jag was saying. "I will never leave you."

She blinked, and inhaled deeper than she should have. "Then why are you here, Jag?"

"Did you just hear what I said?"

"Yes," Jaina exhaled. "I'm simply wondering why, if you're sticking around, you aren't moving these peace talks along."

"One man can only do so much. And the Moffs are already quite clear on what they'll bring to the table." Despite his attempt to lighten the moment, there was immeasurable sadness in Jag's words. And that look – something profound was now missing from his life.

"What's wrong, Jag?" She clutched his hand back. "Wedge?"

As far as she knew, the Corellians hadn't seen much action in the last mad dash before the truce was declared. But KIA reports were constantly being updated, and Jaina had been out of the loop for a while. The swelling pit in Jag's heart told her she was close to the truth.

Sinking a hip onto the medbunk, Jag placed his other hand over hers. "Jaina, as of 1400 hours, all search and rescue operations in the Mists have ceased."

She glanced at the wall chrono – 14:20. Even if Jag had read the dispatch the moment it was released, immediately left the negotiations, flown the fastest fighter to the Healing Seas, and run to the infirmary, there was no way he could have made it here.

He had been forewarned.

"Not the Jedi operations," she insisted. "It's too soon."

"Jay, it's been over four days."

"Jedi have been known to survive in stasis for at least that long."

"Which Jedi specifically?"

"My uncle."

Jag remained stone-faced as if her answer was reason enough to validate his point.

"Luke wouldn't give up on him so easily."

"The Jedi Grand Master has made a considerable effort to use every resource at his disposal, including his immeasurable Force skills. Everything points to the same conclusion."

"So it's up to me again." Jaina made a move to sit up; Jag halted her effortlessly with a hand on her shoulder. She beseeched him with the watery sheen of her eyes. "Luke doesn't know him like I do. We can find him."

Jag looked away, staring blankly down at the linens upon which he sat. After an interminable silence, he spoke. "Jaina, my gut – no, my heart – wants to be out there looking. I want to believe this hasn't happened. Even as your uncle dragged me from you to confront the Moff Council, there was only one place I wanted to be, if I couldn't be at your side, and that was looking for my friend. But my heart – and my mind – also knows that Zekk would have wanted me to be exactly where I've been for the last few days: working to end this madness."

"This isn't the first time my uncle's assumed wrong."

"Jaina… Don't you think if he were alive out there somewhere, even on the brink of death, Zekk would have found a way to reach you?" Jag's green eyes bored into hers, smashing past her barricades of denial. "Your pain has been like his own for years; he would stop at nothing to ease your suffering these last days. Even if it had been as simple as a brush in Force. You know that; Luke knows that."

Her lip trembled. "He's all alone out there. I left him."

Then the sinking crush of sorrow engulfed her. Color faded to dark. Sound muted. She wanted to cry, to scream, to shriek in defiance that Zekk wasn't gone, but her voice was drowning in tears.

Suddenly a pair of arms embraced her. A voice beckoned, its light radiating like sunshine visible from deep beneath the water's surface. "I'll miss him too, Jay."

Despite her body's aches and protests at being held, she wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else. Only in that moment, clinging to him, did she recognize Jag's grief was as great as her own. "I know."