Title: Touch and Go
Chapter: Part Ten: "Kalarba"
Author: bactaqueen
Author's e-mail:
Category: New Jedi Order, EU
Keywords: Jaina Solo, Jag Fel, NJO
Rating: PG
Spoilers: New Jedi Order up to Balance Point
Summary: Space battles, pilot banter, and pre-romance interaction. After Ithor, Rogue Squadron was deployed to the warfront in the company of Spike Squadron. What happened between Jaina Solo and Jag Fel?
Disclaimer: "Star Wars" is copyright George Lucas and Lucasfilm, LTD. Jagged Fel is copyright Michael A. Stackpole. No profit is being made from this writing. It is purely for entertainment. As his own people put it, the sandbox belongs to Mr. Lucas. I'm just playing in it.
Author's Note: Having thanked my betas, I'd like to thank those of you who read the story and offered encouragement.

Part Ten: "Touch and Go"

It was dark. A steady beeping filled her mind, and seemed to ring in her ears. In fact, her ears were ringing even without the beeping. Jaina drifted from consciousness to semi-consciousness, and very slowly probed herself and her surroundings.

The clean, sterile scent of the medical bay assaulted her nose. Even with the unpleasant harshness of it, it was nice to be smelling something again. It was pretty nice to be able to breathe without the aid of a plastic tube shoved up her nose and down her throat.

Jaina could feel the cool sheet against her legs, and that was a nice sensation, too. The searing pain was gone now, replaced with a dull, throbbing ache. She felt it everywhere, from her toes to the roots of her hair, but the young Jedi woman couldn't bring herself to complain about the pain.

She still had an entire body. The minor inconveniences could wait until she wasn't so grateful for that.

But even if she opened her eyes, it was still dark. She could feel the dim lighting on her face, but she couldn't see anything.

Jaina sighed. The damage wasn't permanent-the medic had made sure she understood that much. Even if her eyes had been damaged beyond repair, there were things like prosthetics and retinal replacements that could replace them. But she'd been too close to the Champ when it blew. Wryly, Jaina thought that this ought to teach her to stay away from fleet ships during furballs.

As if in punishment to her finding humor in her situation, a lance of sudden, sharp pain stabbed through her legs. Jaina wanted to cry out. She lay still for long moments, until the agony subsided, and then she let out a deep breath.

She was mad. Forget what Uncle Luke said about anger. At the moment, she wasn't feeling very much like a serene Jedi Knight. 'There is no pain my...' A pilot needed to be able to see to fly, and Jaina was a pilot. She was effectively out of rotation for now, and she had to wonder just what they were going to do with her.

Jaina managed to get herself into a sitting position without further injury or mind-blowing agony, and even managed to relax back into the thick pillow behind her. Her eyes were useless; she closed them. Now was not the time to pity herself. Now was the time to heal.

Her stomach began making rude noises, and Jaina's mouth twisted into a bitter grin. If it was doing that, it meant she could eat, and if she could eat, she was doing far better than she felt.

No nurses or medics came to feed her, and in any case, Jaina found she was getting tired. Less desperate this time, she reached out and touched the Force. She had a moment to wish Jacen were with her. He was better at this than she was; better at bonding in and trances. 'He's so blind to the outside, no wonder he's so good with everything inside.'

Something tugged at Jaina's insides, and the young woman was suddenly homesick. Not for any place in particular, but for her twin and his presence. Despite Jacen's strange, passive path to maturity, she loved and missed him.

She reached for him subtly, and found him. Worried. Absently, Jaina smiled. Something was right in her world again; Jacen was always worried. She sent him the thought that she'd be fine, and then she withdrew. She didn't want to compromise him, didn't want to make him feel guilty. Jaina wasn't in a terribly cruel mood at the moment.

Now she knew that Jacen was okay and worried about her, the ache in her soul was lessened. She gave herself up to the Force, let it envelop her and flow through her, touching her wounds and the weak places in her body, cooling the heat behind her eyes, and taking her away from consciousness once more.

Jaina Solo was so lost in her healing trance that she didn't notice when the lights dimmed to mimic Coruscant night, or when the night shift replaced the day shift. She didn't notice when the medic came to take her vitals or switch monitoring machines on her. And she certainly didn't notice when the tall shadow slipped into her room and slid into a chair near her bed to sit there, simply staring.

The Force rippled around her, and Jaina knew that it wasn't from her own injuries or use. She knew exactly who those ripples belonged to, and found that she had mixed feelings about his presence. She knew she didn't want him to see her like this. But she also felt as if she were somehow stronger with him there.

Jaina reached to run a hand through her short, thick brown hair. She'd had it cut recently, because it was getting too long to fit under a helmet comfortably. If she was honest with herself, the healing trance had done its job well. Now she only felt any pain when she moved too rapidly. She was ready to get out of med bay, back to her own quarters, and hop into the shower.

"I can't see you," Jaina told him, bluntly. She wasn't feeling very hospitable. She heard the rustle of fabric, and felt the Force ripples move. Jaina could only assume he was standing, coming closer.

"I know. They told me. How do you feel?"

Jaina pretended to think about that. "Like my ship went to pieces around me and I spent time in hard vacuum. How the hell are you?"

She could feel his searching gaze on her face, and self-consciously wondered just how bad she looked. There was a niggling little pessimist in the back of her mind, one who taunted her unmercifully, even now. 'Like he cares how you look. He's just here to follow up, make you feel better about confiding in him. Honorable and upright type he is.' Even as she thought that, she knew it wasn't right.

Jaina became aware of Jag's smile as a rare and tangible thing in the air, and she wished she could have her eyesight back. She'd never seen him truly smile.

"You got four more kills, Lieutenant."

"No ship to paint them on, Colonel," she retorted. The bitterness was back.

Jag had nothing to say to that; what did you say to an angry young woman who was hurting in more ways than even she knew? The silence between them was long, and punctuated by a less frequent beeping than Jaina remembered from the night before. She could only assume that someone had transferred her monitoring to another computer, and could hope that it meant she was getting better.

After long enough, she broke the silence. "Why are you here, Jag? Really?" she asked softly. She had her reasons for wanting him to be in her room, and not all were ones she understood.

"I had to see that you were going to be all right," he answered, after one extra beat, but truthfully. She could sense the uncertainty in him, could sense that he was holding something back. Like what he wanted to say was just on the tip of his tongue. Only he was unsure of how to say it.

"I'm alive," she began. "They managed to weld me back together, and apparently, since I'm young and a Jedi, I'm not going to suffer any major permanent damage. Is that what you mean?" Jaina heard the concealed venom in her own voice and wanted to wince. She wasn't trying to be disagreeable on purpose. 'Maybe I'm angrier than I thought.' It didn't seem quite worth it to be anything else.

Jag made a noise, something like the beginning of a word, but he cut himself off. She heard him take a deep breath-the kind people take when they aren't really sure of themselves-and heard another rustle of flightsuit. His presence was closer, and she knew that if she reached out, he'd be right there.

"You scared me, Jaina," he started, his voice low. "You were so close to the Champion when it blew, and your ship wasn't there when the light cleared. You weren't responding on the comm, and Colonel Darklighter thought he'd lost you. I don't like fear."

"Nobody likes being scared, Jag," she told him, curiously reserved. He'd been afraid for her. Jaina did reach out, then, and found his hand. His grasp was warm and solid, and she felt something tight loosen within her. "I'm sorry."

"Unless you ignored a direct order, you have nothing to apologize for." Jag paused, and asked, "Did you disobey an order?"

If he had been anyone else, Jaina would have known he was trying to lighten the mood. But this image of Jagged Fel didn't fit with the one she knew. Uncertainty led her to shake her head dumbly.

"I'm glad. Otherwise, I'd have to bring it to the attentions of your superiors and recommend a court-martial."

Jaina would have gaped. Now she knew there was something wrong with Jag. Or that he'd been replaced by someone else who just sounded and felt like him. She said nothing, and he continued, switching tones on her once more.

"I brought you in, Jaina. I couldn't get to your droid. I'm sorry."

Jaina didn't say anything. There was genuine apology in his voice and in his demeanor. She was touched; though he didn't have to fly with one, he apparently understood that the droids adopted personalities, became companions. The loss of Sparky hurt-there was no use denying that-but she was glad to be alive.

"Droids can be replaced, Jag. I'm grateful you came for me instead. Otherwise, you'd be having this conversation in the mechanic's office." She quirked a small smile, for his benefit more than for her own. She just felt so weary, so heavy. "Thanks for saving me. And thanks for taking care of that skip on my tail."

"We are simply the best fighter squadron in the galaxy," she heard him murmur. "Here to take care of the second best."

Jaina's first reflex was to roll her eyes. Her second was to squeeze his hand. "And here I considered you the quiet, mannerly type." She sighed loudly, exaggerated. "Pilots."

Any retort Jag would have made was killed as they were interrupted by the on-shift nurse. Jaina's medication needed to be changed, and her vitals needed to be taken. She heard the humanoid attendant bustle in. Jag dropped her hand.

"Do I need to leave?" he asked, respecting her privacy.

"Not if she doesn't want you to," came the reply, a woman's voice, young and accented.

"Jaina?"

"No. Stay." If he left, she wasn't sure he'd be back.

The silence that followed wasn't comfortable. Jaina felt Jag move away from the bed, to be out of the way as the attendant crimped the drip-feed steroid and replaced it with a nutrient. The woman hummed softly as she worked, and Jaina could hear her scribbling on a datapad.

"You're doing fine, Lieutenant. You'll be out of here in no time."

"That's good to hear," Jaina said, disinterested.

"By the way, heard you managed four kills before the Champ blew. Congratulations. Do you Rogues ever stop?"

"They don't, ma'am. They all seem to be bred to kill."

Jaina suspected she was imagining the dry humor in Jag's words.

"And yourself, Colonel! We're so glad to have you. If the updates are correct, you got six."

"I did."

The attendant let out a long, low whistle. "Amazing that the Vong are still in this war, isn't it? Well, I'm finished here. Don't go anywhere, Lieutenant. The doctor's going to be in to see you in a few hours. He signs off, you're free."

"Great," Jaina muttered. She heard the shuffling of boots and the murmur of cloth as the attendant left. There was no mistaking the sound of the hatch closing, and she was once again alone with Jag in a room she couldn't see, self-conscious and more than a little resentful.

She didn't have anything to say. Even if she had, she wouldn't have known how to say it.

Jag spoke. "We're leaving, Jaina." His voice was low.

Jaina settled back into her pillow and tried hard not to snort. "Well, I didn't expect the fleet to stick around. Not with the enemy cutting through the Corellian Run, threatening to take the Core. Not with Rodia and Druckenwell on alert."

"I don't mean the group." Again, Jag moved, and rather than hear, Jaina could feel him come closer. "My father has recalled us."

"Oh," was all she said, as the implications hit her. Jag would be gone.

And with this war, she may never see him again.

"I wish we could stay," he offered in something close to a whisper.

Resolutely, Jaina stiffened. "You wish you could stay for the wrong reasons, Colonel," she said, her voice hard. She was assuming a lot and she knew it. "You are the best, and if General Fel says he needs you back, you need to go back. Besides," Jaina added darkly, "I'm not going to see any action anytime soon."

"No," Jag agreed.

For long moments, the air was still. Jag was guarding himself again, and though he held her hand, she couldn't get a read on him. Jaina had a sudden, inexplicable impulse to cry, but she dammed the tears. She was already weak enough in front of him.

"When do you leave?" she asked quietly.

"The fleet will drop out of hyperspace in ten hours. We leave then."

"That's really short notice, Jag."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's not your fault. I'm sure you'd have told me sooner if I hadn't been bobbing in bacta for the last three days." Jaina paused. "It would have been easier for you not to tell me," she pointed out.

Jag's harsh laugh startled Jaina. "Easier for whom, Jaina Solo? Not for me, certainly." The colonel stepped closer and reached for her hand. "The guilt would have killed me."

Jaina smiled faintly. "That'd be good. 'Colonel Jagged Fel, Spike squadron commander, superior fighter pilot, certified ace, master strategist and all-around overachiever, found dead by guilt.'" Jaina actually chuckled, and was rewarded with the sound of Jag's laughter joining hers.

"My sister would love that necrology."

"I'm sure she would."

Then Jag did something that surprised Jaina far more than his laughter or dry humor. He leaned in so close she could smell his aftershave and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Jaina sucked in a breath, feeling the tears at the disturbing final quality of the moment. "Is this it, Colonel? Just touch and go?"

She felt his resolve strengthen as he moved away from her. Jag was no longer smiling. "For now, yes, it is. But I always land, Lieutenant."