Note! This started as one thing, and changed when I couldn't go anywhere too far with it. So now, it's this. Enjoy!

Disclaimer! Star Wars, unfortunately, does not belong to me.

It felt like an eternity since the last time they spoke. In reality, it hadn't been much over two years.

Even so, it had been a long, painful two years for Jaina.

One where her dreams were sometimes colored the darkest shades of black and gray, red and yellow eyes appearing randomly from the shadows and always managing to force her awake, screaming. Where she would break down crying if she was left alone for too long, or became dauntingly silent at times, wrapped tightly in the grasp of her thoughts in the company of others—and even then, tears would occasionally start to fall, but never as violently.

Where she tried to shut as much of the outside world off as she could, because the questions were often too much. One where her family—adopted included—and friends were the only people she would ever really talk to. But even some of them, primarily her adoptive family and not so immediate friends, had questions, which they were sometimes almost unable to keep tucked behind their lips.

Her actual family and closest friends—which, these days, was maybe four people—knew that what was done was done, and nothing could change the past. And even though some of them had questions, they knew not to ask, and never had the urge.

Out of these close people, only five knew the entire story, and four of them were the people that these days made up her 'family'. Luke and Ben both knew not only because they were family, but because the monster she had slain had murdered the most important woman to the two of them. Her parents knew not only because it was their son whom she had dueled, and because no parent should ever have to suffer through not knowing how their child died.

Even after two months, looking at her parents in the eye was still a—primarily internal—challenge for Jaina. They constantly reminded her that she was forgiven, though made point to add she had done nothing in the first place.

Jaina disagreed with this.

She had done something. She had killed their only living son. Her parents would argue that he killed himself long before Jaina had even first challenged him, but it was a lie. Because when she had dueled him, right before she stabbed him, she had felt a presence she hadn't felt in a while. She had felt the presence of the real Jacen—the one who was her twin, her other half, her partner in crime.

Now, that partner in crime was dead at her own hand, and a new one had taken his place. Ajgged was the only other person that Jaina had given the whole story to, and the one she did tell with the least amount of reluctance. Because, even if he had not experienced such a trial, he understood. Jag always understood her. There was something between them that was much more powerful than the Force, and, if she was being honest, she liked it. No, that was wrong. Jaina loved it.

Most would attribute this to them being lovers, and while that did have a significant impact, there was still more to it. It was indescribable for both of them, but it was there. It was magical, and beautiful, and amazing. Words were impossible to use, because no word could ever quite accurately pinpoint the emotion. It was like that old quote, a picture is worth a thousand words. Only, in this case, it was describing something along the lines of a way of life, a passion, a feeling. Simply put, it was love.

Standing before a mirror, dressed in a beautiful white dress, and a holo from years ago in her hands, Jaina sighed gently, running a finger over the holo. A holo that included Chewie standing tall, with herself wrapped in one arm, and her twin and younger brother in the other. One where they were all grinning like fools and laughing it was the funniest thing in the world, because at the time, it had been.

Years ago, back before Chewie passed—because, once Chewie died, it started a chain that resulted in the loss of both Anakin and Jacen—everything had been funny. Little things, big things, they were always amusing.

But now, things were different.

They were all gone, and with them, pieces of her heart she could not mend until she moved on.

Even after she moved on, and the pieces of torn tissue began to finally heal after so long, there was a possibility that some things wouldn't change. She had lost her ability to laugh and smile long ago—this wasn't exactly the most literal of things, because she could still laugh and smile, but it was never as frequent as it should have been—and her soul wasn't exactly the same either. It was still there, with all its compassion and passion, all its heart and gratitude. But it wasn't the same. Because without Chewie, Anakin, and Jacen, a void was inevitable.

But, as push came to shove, the inevitable presented itself.

It was time to move on.

Though she did not feel like it, Jaina was aware that she deserved peace after all the pain in her life. Her parents, her uncle, her cousin, they deserved peace for once in their lives. Her closest friends, her less than immediate friends, her added on family, they deserved peace after all the insanity that had occurred in their lives.

Jag deserved peace, more than any of them.

He had put up with all of her sadness, all of her anger, everything, and yet he had never once complained about it. She apologized for her griping often, and just like her parents, he smoothly told her that it was nothing to apologize for, that she had done nothing, that he was more than glad to help her. Because he loved her. And though Jaina wanted to object to it—oh, she wanted to object to it bad—because he did not deserve such a torturous addition of her complaints after a long day of his own, she never did. Because knowing that he loved her, that offered her peace.

"Bye, all three of you. I love you guys," Jaina whispered to herself, before setting the holo down, glancing at herself in the mirror, and then bravely walking to the door that her father was standing on the other side of.

It was time to move on.

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