EPILOGUE

"SonofaSith!"

The brush in Jaina's hand began a perilous flight across the small room, landing against the far wall with a resounding thud! Denting the wall or shattering the plasteel handle wasn't exactly a productive effort toward finishing her hair, but she sure felt better.

A wave of blossoming heat accompanied a twittering sensation deep in her gut. Or did she feel better?

Jaina fanned her face, which now appeared an odd combination of flushed and peaked. Leaning toward the mirror, she moaned at the pitiable skin tone and unruliness of her hair. Why today of all days did she have to look like this?

Independent to the last, Jaina had insisted on preparing alone. She needed the time, she told herself. These were her final minutes as Jaina Solo – Jedi Knight, pilot and professional loner. Today she would become Jaina Solo Fel, wife and lifemate to Jagged Fel. Not that she didn't want to be those things; but there was something disconcerting about the fact that for the rest of eternity her fate would be inexorably tied to her husband's. In less than an hour, there was no going back.

With an exasperated sigh, she crossed her arms over the small dressing table and then laid her head on them. Maybe some breathing exercises would calm the flock of Ployi moths taking up residence in her gut. Slowly and deliberately she began to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth. In. Out. Positive energy in. Fear and confusion out. Soon she felt lighter and freer. Able to manage a slightly victorious smile, Jaina lifted her head… and gasped at the sight.

Hair frizzy and every which way. A blooming pimple on the tip of her nose. The bruise under her eye beginning to darken again and the gash from her fight days earlier reopened and oozing. She scowled at the pathetic excuse of a woman in the mirror. "One look at you and he'll run for the Unknown Regions as fast as he can."

"You know that's not true," the Jaina Solo in the mirror replied.

"You don't know that."

"Yes. I do," the mirrored self said with a half-cocked grin.

Jaina chucked a lipgloss at her reflection. "You just had to go there, didn't you?"

"Yes. I did… I mean I do."

Slapping her hands on the small table, Jaina howled a burst of pent up emotional energy. "Stop it!"

Her reflection suddenly stilled. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

"Yeah, you've got me."

"I am you, remember?" the real Jaina asked, arching an eyebrow.

"So you say. But if you are me, then why don't you feel as confident as I do? I want this. I love Jag. He loves me even like this." The reflection tugged at a wayward lock of tangled hair.

"So do I, but what if I mess this up?"

"You can't mess this up more than you already have."

"By this, do you mean the hair or the marriage?"

"You're not married yet.

Jaina wanted to punch her likeness and give it another black eye. "And I won't be at this rate."

This time Jaina in the mirror howled and slapped her hands on the table. "Stop it!"

"No! I won't!"

The reflection pursed her lips as if preparing for a curt rebuttal, but only huffed instead. "I'd fight you on this, except I know better than most that it's a losing proposition."

"You're a –"

"Uhuh," the two-dimensional Jaina scolded, wagging a finger. "Not nice calling yourself names."

She crossed her arms defiantly. "I'm done talking. The more I think about it the more I realize this is all a big mistake."

"Marrying Jag?"

"No."

"What, then?"

"Just the timing. It's… too fast. I'm not ready. The bacta hasn't even healed my wounds."

"You'll never be ready."

"You're right. I'm going to call it off."

"Some help here, guys?" the reflection called over her shoulder.

"Who are you talking to?" Surprised, Jaina glanced from one side to the other half expecting someone to be standing there behind her. "Oh…"

Where her reflection had been now sat a green troll with long ears extending horizontally from his face. "See? Worse you could look this day," it said, extending a gnarled finger in her direction.

"You've got a point," she admitted. "So who are you? My inner demon come to life?"

"Mhhmhhhmhhmhh," the troll chuckled merrily. "Not demon. Not from inside." Its eyes lifted dramatically. "From beyond."

"I don't have time for this little mind game or Force vision or whatever this is." Jaina started out of her chair. "I've got to put a stop to –"

"Sit down, young one."

There was no questioning the order. Jaina felt its command over her in the Force, and plopped unceremoniously into her seat. "Oh-kay. You win."

"No. Win do you!" He emphasized the end by smacking a knobby stick on the table. "Feel it you should." The creature, no taller than Jaina's waist, crawled onto the table, through the mirror – which wasn't a mirror at all but rather a frame – and jabbed her in the collarbone with his finger. "Feel it here you should."

"Ow!" Jaina drew back and smacked away the prodding hand. The chair toppled beneath her, yet somehow she caught herself before smacking the ground right along with it. Still in her undergarments, with her frazzled locks now a certifiable mess hanging in her eyes, Jaina scrambled to her feet. "Now look here. I don't know who you… Oh."

In the green troll's place stood a bearded man. Tall and handsome, he resembled what Jaina always had imagined the Jedi of old would have looked like.

"Hello there," he said with a simmering smile.

The troll's voice wafted around the room. "Tell her you should. Nothing know I of marriage."

The man turned his sculpted face up and to the side. "And you think I know better, Master?"

"Master?" Jaina rasped.

The regal man turned back to her, a mischievous sparkle in his blue eyes. "Yes, Master. Didn't your Uncle Luke ever teach you that appearances can be deceiving?" He looked back into the emptiness of the room's hollow space. "On this matter, though, my Master is mistaken."

"Much do you know of love, Obi-Wan," the troll's disembodied voice replied.

"Ben! Ben Kenobi?" Then the abrupt realization hit her. She stabbed her finger at the spot where she had last seen the… creature. "Then that must have been… Oh, no. Please tell me I did not slap Yoda."

"I'm afraid so."

Jaina's world spun in a dizzying array, and her legs shook. A comforting hand found her back, and somehow she managed to make her way to the small settee. "Steady," Obi-Wan encouraged as Jaina took a seat. "Better?"

She rubbed a hand across her brow. "What a nightmare."

He chuckled, the sound a happy, low rumble deep in his chest. "Not quite."

Jaina lifted her gaze and looked the Jedi Master directly in the eyes. "You're not glowing blue, so this can't be really happening. So it must be a nightmare."

"A nightmare, dear child, would be for you to live a life without love simply because you were afraid."

"But I'm only going to delay the wedding."

A golden brow arched. "You're too much like your grandfather. For all your bravado you too often let fear guide your choices."

"You never married, so what can you know about love, or choices. Maybe I want to dedicate my life to the Jedi like you."

For a heartbeat Obi-Wan flinched as if he had been struck, but then the hurt surprise was gone, replaced by a mask of serenity. "My path was laid out before me, just as yours is. My calling was always to be a servant to the Force."

"I'm a Jedi. Mine is too –"

"Shhh, young Jaina." He waved a palm in admonition. "Just like Anakin you don't know when to listen."

Jaina crossed her arms. "Fine. I'm listening."

That same brow arched again, challenging her. She unfolded her arms with a flourish. "Okay. Okay. I'm listening."

Obi-Wan drew in a deep breath, and his whole presence seemed to grow into something that could not be denied. "Yoda was right. I do know a thing or two about love. It was the love of my Master that sent me on a life's journey for the sake of a young boy. It was the love of the boy that made me press on with my teachings when my hands wanted to throttle my young apprentice. It was the love of the man he became that made me turn a blind eye to his flaws…"

An awkward silence descended on the pair, and Jaina found her eyes gravitating toward anything but Obi-Wan's pained face. She wanted the hollow ache of bitter memories to leave, so she tried to banish them with a joke.

"Do you think Jag will turn a blind eye to this?" she asked, pointing to her throbbing pimple.

In a flash he had snatched her shoulders, his eyes ablaze. "Don't you see? Love is blind to all that. I loved Anakin even as his eyes glowed yellow with hate, as he turned upon the woman of his dreams, as he tried to strike me down. I couldn't stop loving him as he lay in pieces at my feet, his flesh burning, his head encircled by a crown of singed hair. I still loved him. That will never change for me, or for you, Jaina. You will always love Jag."

Jaina didn't know when she had started crying. By the time her eyes clouded and her breath came in ragged sobs, she was powerless to stop it. Nodding her head mutely, Jaina forced the words out. "I… know Jag is the love of my life. I don't know why I do this to myself. It's stupid. I can fly into battle with ice in my veins, but the thought of walking down the aisle makes my knees weak."

"A healthy dose of fear isn't a bad thing, Jaina. Letting it control your actions is. Anakin used to have trouble with that too. He would listen to his gut, and let it drive his actions."

Wiping a tear away, she asked, "Am I truly that much like him? Grandfather, I mean."

"In many ways."

"Oh."

Obi-Wan patted her wringing hands. "Mostly in the good ways. Your Skywalker blood feels like a curse, I am sure, but it is what makes you the best type of Jedi. Learn to use your passion, in service of the Force…" His eyes twinkled. "… and in your married life."

"I get the picture." Jaina inhaled sharply. "I'll stop being an idiot." She sniffled, then pulled at her wayward hair. "But what am I going to do about this?"

"Unfortunately, not even the Force can help me guide you through that journey," Obi-Wan noted wryly.

"Thanks," Jaina said, frowning.

"I don't think the state of your hair will matter to your groom."

"Do you realize who his mother is?"

"Should I?"

"Only the biggest holostar ever."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Jag is used to perfect…"

The sage brow rose yet again.

"How about close-to-perfect on the beautiful scale." Looking away, Jaina crinkled her brow and twirled a finger in her hair. "I certainly know I'm far from perfect."

"I've got her beat in that department, don't you think?" The voice was not Obi-Wan's cultured, serious clip, but a playful, happy-go-lucky lilt.

Now accustomed to the ever-changing cast of visitors, Jaina turned to greet her new advisor with a smile –

"Yeeeooww!" she shrieked, jumping off the settee and fumbling for her lightsaber. When her weapon proved elusive, Jaina resorted to pointing a finger at the abomination. No legs. No arms. Durasteel prosthetics in their place. Seared and hairless, the monster was something of childhood horror stories. "Stay right there!" she ordered, then called to the vanished apparition of Obi-Wan Kenobi, "I told you this was a nightmare."

"Give the child a break, my old Padawan," Obi-Wan commanded from thin air. "A wedding is enough of a fright for one day."

"I'm just trying to make an impression, my Master," the hideous beast replied with a respectful dip of the head. Then he transformed into a handsome young man with laughing blue eyes and the grin of a Granjonian imp. "Better?"

"Possibly," Obi-Wan said. "With you I never can tell."

"I just want to make this one point." The young man curled his right arm and began rolling back his tunic sleeve. Jaina could faintly make out the whir of servomotors.

Obi-Wan's voice wafted down from the ceiling, "Which would be what, Anakin?"

"Anakin?" Jaina breathed.

"Who else do you know missing four limbs and charred to a crisp, Jaina?" The specter finished rolling his sleeve, then patted the settee. "Come. Sit. You get the less frightening side of me for this lesson."

She stayed in place. "Va…Vader."

He ignored her, instead plucking the glove off his right hand. Only when it was fully removed did Jaina realize his arm was cybernetic. The hum of moving parts was evident with the flexing of each finger. "Before I became Vader, I was already less than perfect." He looked up with those piercing blue eyes. "I lost this arm in a battle with a Sith Lord."

There was something so sad in the way he recounted the loss that Jaina felt compelled to sit next to her… grandfather. They locked gazes for a heartbeat, until he snapped his eyes back to the mechanical arm.

"Even from the first moment Padmé – your grandmother – saw my damaged body, I knew she loved me no less for it. Just like she loved me no less as I denied my true self, or denied our love. She loved me no less as the limbless abomination –"

Jaina flinched.

"– that I became." Anakin patted her knee. "It's all right. I've been thought of worse. The important thing I've learned is to make peace with one's self. The truth is the truth, and acceptance of it is salvation. We all have dark sides, Jaina." He paused. "But you know that, don't you?"

She nodded. Jaina remembered the fateful day she had plunged into Jag's mind. Even he had darkness buried inside his wholesome soul. His biggest fear, the greatest source of his darkness, was the thought of losing her.

"I too feared losing your grandmother," Anakin noted sadly. "That fear cost me everything."

"What if –"

"Jag is a far better man than I," her grandfather said, shaking his head sadly.

"Oh, Ani." A beautiful woman appeared before them. Her brown hair poured down in a cascade of curls and flowers. Her dress was fashioned from strips of magical blue fabric that flowed and sparkled like water.

"It's true, my angel," Anakin said, patting Jaina's hand this time. "It's true."

Unexpectedly, her grandfather vanished and the woman, Anakin's angel, lowered onto the settee. She moved with a grace Jaina had only seen in her mother.

"You must be… Pad-mé." Jaina had to think hard on the name. She was learning so much, so many things to take back to her family. Until now their history had been shrouded in mystery. "My grandmother."

"I am."

"I'm…" Overwhelmed? Overexcited? Delirious? Delusional? Crazy?

Padmé smiled, and for a brief moment Jaina saw part of herself in those beautiful brown eyes. "You're not crazy at all, just madly in love, and all the more beautiful for it."

"Umm…the hair?"

Her grandmother – the title struck Jaina as odd, considering Padmé appeared hardly older than her – cocked her head and smiled. "I'm confident we can do something about that."

"We?"

"No more questions," Padme answered, twirling her finger. "Turn around."

Jaina acquiesced reluctantly and spun in her seat with her back to her grandmother. "I'll let you try."

Smug alien laughter filled the room. "Do or do not –"

"There is no try," the two women said in unison, then immediately broke into a fit of giggling.

"Yoda really did say that." Jaina snorted trying to catch her breath, and both women laughed even harder. "I… I always thought Uncle Luke made it up."

"Yoda said it, all right, more times than my poor Ani cared to hear." Padmé leaned over and whispered in Jaina's ear, "Personally, I think it's a bit of an arrogant taunt. More like can and can not."

"You're absolutely right!" Jaina laughed so hard she had to clutch her sides.

Padmé's arms engulfed her. "Now that's more like it. Brides should be happy."

Jaina leaned into the hug. "Mmm. Thanks to you, I am."

"They should be beautiful too." Pushing Jaina upright, Padmé began to gently run the brush through her hair.

"This brings to mind one of my last happy days on Coruscant." Padmé's voice slipped out in a soothing lilt. "I was pregnant with your mother and uncle, and I didn't feel the least bit attractive. But it didn't matter, because Ani was home."

Listening to the story, Jaina felt her limbs relaxing and her eyes getting heavy. Each stroke of the brush drew her deeper into a serene, blissful state.

"I was brushing my hair when Anakin found me on the balcony. He told me…"

"You are so beautiful," Anakin's voice said.

Jaina smiled inwardly. The words filled her with the warmth that only came from being loved and accepted. Overcome with contentment, her eyelids drifted shut as she continued to listen. There were only the words.

"Despite my swollen ankles and hollowed cheeks I knew I was beautiful solely because of my love for Anakin," Padmé said.

"No, it's because I am so in love with you," Anakin countered.

"So love has blinded you?"

"Well, that's not exactly what I meant."

Jaina knew Padmé's words were true. Love wasn't a handicap; it was a gift that filled you up and made you whole. Love was a blessing. Jag wouldn't be blind to her faults – especially not this hair, because she knew there was no fighting her horrible hair – but he would accept them and love her no matter.

Finally at peace with the day and this momentous step in her life, Jaina decided to enjoy the tingling sensation spreading across her scalp and the tender attention of her grandmother's skilled fingers.

Still with her eyes closed, Jaina said, "It's been an odd assortment of lessons I've learned today."

"What has, Jay?"

At the sound of Jag's voice, Jaina's eyes flew open. Her head was propped on her arms, which were crossed on the dressing table. "Uhhh."

"Jaina?"

Suddenly, she realized Jag was not an illusion – and that he was in her dressing room! She sprang from her seat, wrapping her robe around her. "You're not supposed to see me." She gasped for a breath as the chair clattered to the floor. "Yet."

"You don't believe in all that ceremonial superstition," Jag noted, taking a step forward.

Jaina held her ground, lifting her chin defiantly. "Maybe. Maybe not. Why risk it?"

Jag grinned. "Oh, I think we've already risked far greater and come out the better for it."

"You don't say," Jaina replied, putting up a hand to stop his advance.

Jag halted with his chest against her palm. She could feel the electric pulse of his raw emotion pouring between them in the touch, and it caused her to blush.

"You are so beautiful."

Jaina blinked. "What did you say?"

"I said, you are so be-"

"Never mind." Jaina launched herself into Jag's arms. He caught her halfway, and hoisted her up to his eye level. "Kiss me quick," Jaina urged breathlessly.

"If you insist." Jag's lips met hers with carefree abandon. Their sensuous ministrations reminded her that no matter what – bad hair or bad mood – Jaina was the woman of his dreams. In that moment, being kissed feverishly, she was beautiful simply because she was a woman in love and loved in return.

She broke the kiss, craning her neck to look into his shimmering emeraude eyes. "Was it worth it?"

"What?" he asked.

"All this? The risk. The trip to the Unknown Regions. Almost getting killed. The years of waiting for me to come to my senses."

"I could picture our courtship no other way, Jaina Solo…" Jag's voice trailed off, her name seeming unfinished.

All of a sudden, Jaina couldn't wait to get on with the ceremony. Jumping out of Jag's arms, she heaved a breath or two before swiping her arm to point at the door. "Out."

"But –"

"No. I've got to finish my hair and get dressed. There's no time!"

"I don't know what more you have got to do your hair. It looks stunning. A masterpiece."

"Stop teasing, Jagged Fel."

"I'm not," he answered, entirely serious.

Hesitantly, Jaina touched her hair. It felt soft and curly, not fried and brittle as she had expected. She dashed to the mirror. The face staring back at her looked so much like her grandmother Padmé had in her dream, framed by cascading curls and exotic flowers, radiant and glowing with inner love. Jaina stumbled back in disbelief. "Oh, stars."

Jag moved to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "Are you all right?"

Jaina grinned – no, beamed – at their reflection in the mirror. "Actually, I am."

---

And with that we have reached

The End