Author's notes:  Thanks to my beta, ZaraRose.  I am only playing in the Star Wars universe owned by George Lucas and with events imagined and penned by Michael Stackpole.  Some scenes are missing scenes; others play with the notion of trying to discern what was really going on in Jag's mind.  Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.


THE DREAM

The swirling wind whipped snow flurries all around him, sometimes blinding him in a sheet of white. Other times he could just discern the outline of a figure in the distance. The figure was moving across the glacier, through the blizzard in a slow deliberate step. A violet light illuminated the hooded form from behind, moving back and forth in rhythm with the bearer's gait.

He called out, fearing the person lost on the glacier. Most inhabitants of the planet knew better than to be out in such a storm. Nobody ever really came this far out of the city, this close to the estate. The figure stopped for a moment at the sound of his voice, but never turned to face him. Then the form resumed its march.

He left the relative protection provided by the proximity to the main estate building to follow the misplaced traveler. His hunt was made all the more difficult from fighting through the drifts of snow, but he trudged forward, undaunted by the task. Some force was pulling him like a magnet, driving his feet faster and faster.

He was close enough now to make out the tiny shape of a blue robe, the figure was somewhat smaller than he was. This puzzled him for almost every native was as big as, if not taller than, him. Possibly, it was a child. He called again, driven by a gnawing desire to protect this being's life.

This time, the figure turned at the sound of his voice. Instead of the blue-skinned face of a child, there was a young woman with skin like his. There were so few humans on his adopted home planet that the sight was unexpected. He knew every female human in the city and surrounding parts, but did not recognize this face.

The features held him captivated. Her skin was flawless. Brown hair cascaded out of the hood, capturing snowflakes in its tendrils. Those eyes beckoned him to fall into them and lose himself in a warm, comfortable place. He had known those eyes his whole life, and yet he had never met this mysterious beauty. Her eyes reflected the brilliant violet rays emanating from the sword of light grasped in her hand.

Then she smiled, like she was greeting an old friend. Her hand came up; her fingers outstretched, beckoning for a touch. He reached out, his farthest finger hungering for the feel of her. Their fingers were so close he could almost feel the electricity spark between the two.

In a cruel twist, the wind swirled heavier gusts. As he blinked away the piercing snow buffeting his eyes, he realized she was fading with the flurries. Pieces of her fluttered like colored snowflakes on the wind until she was just a ghost. He leaned forward against the blast of wind to grasp her, but his hand met cold air.

Her lips moved then, calling to him. "Jag!" Her voice was carried away on the wind, and then she was gone, leaving only the blinding fury of the storm in her wake.

Jag shot up in the bed. Sweat beaded down his bare chest. His lungs begged for air. It was not the first time in his life he had been assaulted by such a vivid dream. They came once a year, always at the same time. He never remembered their power until after he woke from the same cruel end. Every year she was a little older just like he was, growing more beautiful every time. Each chance meeting with a new human on Csilla, he hoped he might find a hint as to who she was, but his quest had so far been fruitless.

A warm hand on his back startled him out of his reverie. Jag stiffened with the touch. He had forgotten Chantral was there, lying next to him in his bed.

"Jag, is everything all right?"

Jag rose and pulled on his flightsuit. He kept his back to her so she could not see the paths of the tears that had escaped his eyes during the dream.

"I am fine. Just a dream. Go back to sleep."

She sat up in the bed, covering her body with the sheet, but he refused to look at her. She was a pretty enough girl, the daughter of the highest-ranking human under his father's command. She was even a decent pilot.

Jag knew he did not love her though; he had just never known how to make the break. It had all been too comfortable after Cherith's death. She had been his sister's friend, and he had found solace in her arms, but not love, just a patch over his aching heart. Now, it was time to move on.

Jag put his parka on one arm at a time before picking up his pilot's bag to sling over his shoulder. He stepped into a darker corner of the room so she could not see his face as he turned to her. She spoke before he could.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes."

"So this is goodbye." Disappointment riddled her voice.

"Yes. I guess it is. You can stay here until later. I'll make sure they don't come to turn over the room until after you leave."

"Thanks. Keep yourself safe out there in the Known Regions. I envy you getting to go there and meet other humans like us."

Jag knew this was true. Chantral was so unlike him in that regard. She always wanted to go back to where her parents had escaped; she had never fully been comfortable here on Csilla living with the Chiss. He, on the other hand, was content living among these people; he embraced their ways like he was one of them. Jag could never imagine a life that was different. Only a sense of duty compelled him to take this mission, not some desire to return to the place of his heritage.

"I hope you get your chance." He paused. "Goodbye, Chantral."

"Goodbye, Jag." She held one hand up in a wave, but he was already turning to leave. She knew he was leaving her forever, and a tear trickled down her cheek. He had never given himself to her like she had to him. Now he would use this as a break and forever keep himself apart.

The door slid open, letting a beam of light trickle into the room. Jag stepped into the light then the door shut behind him, once again immersing the room in darkness. He strode down the barracks hallway, leaving behind that part of his life like it was excess baggage. He would never again think of Chantral, she was part of an era of his life he did not wish to revisit under any circumstances.

Jag was about to embark on a new adventure of his own. Maybe things would be different from now on; he felt a renewed sense of excitement, a hint of some new path he was about to discover. The door before him opened, letting in a frigid blast of air mixed with snow. Jag took a deep breath and pushed his way into the buffeting winds.

The swirling wind whipped snow flurries all around him, sometimes blinding him in a sheet of white. Jag stopped in his tracks and stood quietly. The wind howled all around the surrounding buildings, singing a mournful song. He listened to it carefully. He could almost make out the voice from his dream calling to him in the storm's serenade.

"Jag."

He shook his head before readjusting the duffle bag over his shoulder. Lowering his head, Jag forged ahead into his future – the brown-eyed face haunting his thoughts.