"Jag! Jag, wait up!"
They were words that seventeen-year-old Jagged Fel had heard often in his life, but when that voice spoke them, he always smiled. He stopped the speeder and turned his head to see his sister running after him. "Hurry up, Cherith!"
He continued to smile as the sixteen-year-old jumped into the idling speeder. "Jagged Fel, why are you always in such a hurry these days?"
"I'm not. I'm only in a rush when I'm on my way to sim practice," he replied, putting the old-fashioned groundspeeder back in gear and driving away from the Fel house. "You know how it goes. Last one there runs stats instead of flying."
"Jag, you're the commanding officer. You've never once run stats."
"I know, and I don't intend to."
Cherith rolled her eyes. "Males."
Jag took his eyes off the road long enough to spare a glance at his sister. "You didn't seem to have a problem with males two weeks ago when you went to that dance with that Drahos character."
Obviously disgusted, she ripped the blue ribbon out of her blonde hair, letting wavy locks fly loose in the wind. "His name is Jon, brother dear, and I'd prefer it if you called him that," she retorted.
"It's more fun to call him 'that Drahos character.' It annoys you more," he replied with a smirk in her direction.
She speared him with an icy blue glare. "Love you too, Jag."
"Of course you do," he replied in an arrogant tone that was his father's. The low, guttural hiss that escaped her lips told him to stop.
After a kilometer of silence, Jag pointed to one of the occasional houses on the road between their home and the base. "Look, it's the Drahos house," he said casually.
Instead of the scathing retort he expected, Cherith replied, "It's quite a beautiful place, don't you think?"
Disappointed that she'd killed his line of teasing, Jag gave her a noncommittal grunt by way of reply. After passing two more houses, he asked, "So did he kiss you goodnight?"
"Jag!" she exclaimed. "That's none of your business!"
"Sure it is," he answered. "I have to know if I get to invoke my right as older brother and beat him up."
"I beg your pardon?" she asked, clearly not amused.
"Well, it's quite simple. If he didn't kiss you goodnight, I get to beat him up for being a jerk. If he did kiss you but took more than a second to do so, I get to beat him up for dishonorable intentions."
In his peripheral vision Jag saw his sister shake her head. "Honestly, Jag," she laughed, "you've spent way too much time thinking that up."
"Brother's prerogative," he replied dryly. "So which is it?"
"Oh, you get to beat him up."
"Which reason?" he pressed, almost concerned. "I have to know so I can have the proper motivation while beating him up."
"How badly would you hurt him if I told you there was tongue involved?"
Jag slowed the speeder to a crawl and stared at her. "I'd break every bone in his body for being so presumptuous," he replied evenly. "And then I'd lock you in one of the towers of the Hand of Thrawn for letting him."
She raised her eyebrows. "Well, then," she answered, "it's good for Jon that he only kissed my cheek."
Before accelerating, Jag stared at her, then shook his head. There was nothing in the galaxy Cherith preferred to getting him to believe some outlandish story, and she was getting better at it. "One of these days, Cherith, one of these days," he replied, half mocking.
Cherith reached over and patted his shoulder. "So why the sudden sim call?" she asked, changing the subject.
"I have no idea," Jag replied, "but the general wanted all squadrons to run this simulation today. He told me that I'll be able to get home and back on leave as soon as we're done here."
"I hope that's true," Cherith replied. "I'd hate to be stuck our here tonight."
"You've got a date with that Drahos character, don't you?"
"I'm having dinner with Jon and his family, yes. I can't stay there too late, though, because you and I are going hiking in the morning."
"Oh, that's right," Jag said, recalling that they had made some kind of plans for the next day. "Did we ever decide where we're going?"
"Not to my knowledge," she replied. "If you feel up to the challenge, we can try the Freal Valley."
"Are you crazy?" Jag asked incredulously. "You heard the warning about going near the Freal Valley, right?"
With a graceful wave of her hand, she replied, "That warning was for inexperienced hikers traveling alone. Come on, Jag, it'll be fun."
"Right, about as much fun as a rancor pit."
That remark earned him a smack to the back of his head. "Okay, okay!" he exclaimed, recoiling from her. "We can go to the Freal Valley if you really want to."
She beamed at him. Always up for a challenge, aren't you? Jag thought as he drove the speeder up to the building. "I'll tell you what," he began. "First one in the room picks the location for tomorrow and flies in the sim. Second one in runs stats."
"You're on," she replied, hopping out of the speeder and taking off at a run.
Jumping out after her, Jag wasn't too concerned about her head start. He'd outrun her after longer head starts. He caught up with her fairly quickly, but once they reached the level of the simulator room in the building, she took off. She'd been holding back, running slower than she could have, while Jag was at his top sustainable speed.
As he entered the sim room, a good fifteen meters behind Cherith, he was relieved to realize that no one had seen the commanding officer of Spike Squadron running down the hall like that. The look on Cherith's face as she climbed into a simulator told him that she was thinking pretty much the same thing. As he walked over to the stat computer, she grinned at him. All he could do was roll his eyes and run stats in mild chagrin.
On the way back from the simulation, Jag stopped at the Drahos house to save Cherith the trip out there. Because she arrived about half a standard hour earlier than planned, Jon met them outside the house, and the three stood around talking for some time.
Cherith's sudden interest in Jon Drahos was a little surprising, and her immediate closeness with him stung a little. Jag had never thought that he would ever care if his little sister had a boyfriend, but neither had he ever really believed that he would watch her run to hug said boyfriend. Cherith had been closer to him than any other being in his life; his older brother, Davin, had been too competitive, too much like himself, for them to be close friends, while Kalin and Lexi, four and two respectively, were much too young. Cherith, on the other hand, was close to his age, less than a year younger, and had a Sith-may-care attitude about her than Jag loved.
On a purely objective level, Jag could see why males his age were attracted to her (Jon was by no means the first to try to gain Cherith's attention, but certainly the first successful one), since Cherith was very pretty, closely resembling their mother. She too had become a pilot, now a lieutenant on reserve and likely to be called into active duty soon. She was well-grounded in reality, but unlike many of the Chiss around them, she saw fit to dream beyond what Nirauan could offer her. Jag was sure that Cherith would be the first to find a way out of the Unknown Regions.
As for her choice, Jag couldn't find a legitimate reason to object to Jon Drahos. With a brilliant mind for science, Jon had been the only other human in Jag's class when they were in school together. In fact, Jon had actually met Cherith through Jag. Jag had thought nothing of it at the time, as the two had talked of nothing but the scientific realities of extra-galactic travel. But romance, as Jag was quickly learning, apparently came in many forms.
So the three stood around talking of trivial things till Jon's mother appeared at the front door and asked Cherith to join her inside. For a while Jon and Jag stood in silence, till Jag finally said, "I need to get home."
"Right," Jon replied. "I'll bring Cherith home after dinner."
Jag nodded as he got into the speeder and started the engine. "Thanks."
"Hey, Jag, you don't mind that Cherith and I are dating, do you?"
Jag was caught off guard by both the question and the look of concern he saw on Jon's face. From what Jag knew of Jon, a lack of confidence was unlike him. The mere fact that Jon was concerned told Jag that he shouldn't be. Cherith had sense, and she'd made good use of it. "No, I don't mind," Jag answered. "But remember, if you hurt her, you'll rue the day you were born. And then my father will deal with you," he added.
Jon had enough humor in him to find that amusing. Smiling, he replied, "Not for the galaxy would I hurt her, Jag. No need to worry."
Dinner at the Fel house that evening was interesting, to say the least. Only a few minutes had passed before the conversation spiraled into a discussion of the one member of the family missing from the table. Jag tried several times to change the subject, mostly out of a desire to not be talking about his sister behind her back. By the time the main course was cleared from the table, he'd given up. As dessert arrived, his father moved the conversation to the next logical topic, Jon.
"Perhaps I just need to talk with the boy more, but Jon doesn't seem at all like the type Cherith would even consider," the general began. "He's so quiet. I would have thought that she'd prefer someone slightly more... spectacular."
"Someone more like yourself and the rest of your children?" Jag's mother interjected.
"Now that's hardly fair, Syal. Where would she find someone like us?" he joked, patting Lexi's head.
"Daddy, no! Mess up hair!" the two-year-old practically yelled, covering her head with both hands and letting a messy fork fall to the floor.
Jag ducked under the table to pick up the fork and to cover his desire to laugh. Meanwhile, his mother said, "Honestly, Soontir, that child is on her way to having a bigger ego than you. I hope Kalin decides to take an image from Cherith's holodisk."
Kalin was too busy picking at her food to respond to the mention of her, so her father answered, "Yes, Cherith certainly is humble, more so than anyone here." He paused as Jag wiped Lexi's fork clean and handed it back. "Jag, you know this Drahos character. Is there anything I should know about him?"
Jag knew Cherith would be mortified if she heard her father call Jon that. "Well, sir, he was in my class in school. When I went to the academy, he went on with academic studies. He's now an engineer for the fleet, though he decided to stay a civilian."
As Jag lifted his glass of water to take a drink, his father pressed, "That's all well and good, but what is he like when he's not around his date's father?"
Jag sighed. "He's quiet, intelligent, funny, and sensitive. In other words, he's a perfect match for Cherith's temperament. He's just a nice guy, and he would never intentionally hurt Cherith for any reason."
His father thought for a moment. "If Drahos turns out to be what you describe, I'll allow this to continue. It sounds like one of my children has sense when it comes to the opposite sex."
Jag's fork dropped to his plate with a clang, and silence rang in its wake. "I thought we had decided not to discuss Danyelle again, Father."
"We did. That was a statement of fact, not an opening for discussion."
"That's funny. It certainly sounded like an opening for discussion," Jag shot back.
"Son, I've told you this a thousand times already. That girl isn't worth your energy," the older man replied. "You deserve more than a flake like her."
"Why isn't she good enough for me? If she isn't, who is?"
"If you want my honest opinion, I'd say that only the first woman to command Rogue Squadron would be worth your time."
Disgusted, but unwilling to fight this battle again, Jag held back a retort. Rising from his seat at the table, he said, "Excuse me, Mother. Dinner was excellent."
As he headed to the back door, he heard his father speak, but Jag's footsteps were too heavy for him to hear what his father had said. Reaching the back door, he paused, and he heard his mother say, "No, Soontir. You were worse."
Jag took off in his groundspeeder, heading in the direction opposite of the way he'd traveled that afternoon. Not many people in this area lived farther away from the base than the Fels. One of the few families that did was the Radyna family.
Their place of dwelling couldn't adequately be described as a house; it really was a mansion. In this society on Nirauan, the Radynas had money, making the Fels, who were well-off, look poor. The retired admiral and his relatively young wife had only one child, eighteen-year-old Danyelle. As Jag drove alongside the house, he noticed that Danyelle was standing on the back porch, clearly waiting for something.
He smiled as he stopped the speeder and watched her. Even from behind she looked gorgeous, as usual. Her simple green dress, the color of her dark eyes and a sharp contrast to her tight blonde curls, accented her slender figure, but didn't come close to reaching her knees. Jag didn't particularly mind this, as she was also wearing sandals with a high, spike heel that tightened her calf muscles, making her legs even more attractive than usual. He couldn't help but notice that one thin strap of her dress was dangerously and suggestively close to falling off her shoulder. With a smile, he shook his head as he came up the steps to the porch.
Danyelle turned and smiled at him as if she had not heard the distinctive sound of his speeder as he drove up. "Jag!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck. "I thought you might come to visit me tonight."
Jag found his nose buried in her hair, which carried an exotic scent and was slightly damp. Obviously she'd just washed it. He slid his big hands around her waist, replying, "I missed you, Danyelle."
"I missed you too," she whispered in his ear. Abruptly she pulled back so she was at arm's length, her hands on his shoulders and his on her hips. "Now why haven't you come to see me?" she demanded.
Jag sighed. "I've been busy. I've got three new members in the squadron, and I'm looking for a fourth. I've had a lot to do."
Her green eyes widened, and her bottom lip stuck out so that she was almost pouting. "And no time for me?"
"Unfortunately, no," he replied, taking a cautious step forward. She began to draw him into her embrace again, so he closed the distance. "But we can make up for that."
She smiled triumphantly. In response, Jag lowered his head and kissed her.
Danyelle wasted no time in reacting. She pressed her lips hard into his, putting her hand behind his head to keep him from lessening his efforts. He had really wanted this to be a gentle kiss, but as he felt her jaw drop, pulling his mouth open against hers, he decided to enjoy it.
When he finally pulled his lips away from hers, her eyes remained closed, so he began to lay light, almost taunting kisses along her jawline, down her long neck, and across her now bare shoulder. "Jag," she breathed, "you know my parents are gone."
He withdrew enough to get a good look at her. "I suspected as much. I saw the admiral today at the base, along with your mother."
"They'll be gone for two days," Danyelle continued. "Do you know what that means?"
"What?" Jag asked, knowing the answer and dreading it.
The kiss she returned was innocent enough, but as she spoke, her voice was low and seductive. "You could stay here tonight," she replied, letting one hand slide from his neck to his chest.
"I can't," he answered without hesitation.
"Why not?" she demanded, her voice once again girlish.
His exact reasons took him longer to formulate, and Danyelle became more and more impatient as he collected his thoughts. Finally he let out an exasperated sigh. "You know my father doesn't approve of you. What do you think he'd say if I spent the night here?"
"Oh, everything in your life revolves around your father," she retorted angrily. "Stand up to him for once!"
"It's not as simple as that, Danyelle," he replied gently. "He's not just my father. He's also my superior, and he could make my life a living rancor-pit if he wanted."
"Fine," she responded unhappily.
"Besides," Jag added, hoping it would help, "I have to be up early in the morning. I'm going hiking with Cherith tomorrow."
Mentioning Cherith was the last thing he should have done. That excuse made Danyelle angrier than the mention of his father. "Jag, you're more concerned about your precious sister than me! You don't care about me at all!"
"That's not true," he soothed, glad that the nearest neighbors were half a kilometer away. "I care about you a lot."
"Prove it," she replied, her green eyes glinting and cold.
"All right," he began, "I'll cancel my plans with Cherith for tomorrow night and take you to dinner, and then we can come back here and watch a holovid or something. All of this will be your choice. How does that sound?"
"You're such a sweetheart," she replied with a smile. "Too good for me. So how long can you stay tonight?"
He removed one hand from behind her back to glance at his wrist chronometer. "Actually, I need to head back."
"But you just got here!"
"I know, Danyelle. I'll be able to stay longer tomorrow."
"You better." Tilting her head to the side, she said, "So are you going to kiss me goodnight?"
If he did kiss you but took more than a second to do so, I get to beat him up for dishonorable intentions.
Hiding a guilty smile, he kissed her gently and pulled back out of her embrace before she could pull him into another intense kiss. "Good night, Danyelle," he said as he walked down the steps and to his speeder.
He heard her run across the porch, her impractical shoes clicking all the way. "Good night, Jag," she called as he started the engine. "I love you."
Unwilling to speak those fatal words, he pretended not to hear and drove away.
As he arrived back home, the thought crossed his mind that something was missing from his relationship with Danyelle. He lay awake half the night trying to think of it with little success.
"Only the first woman to command Rogue Squadron would be worth your time."
Convenient, isn't it, Father, that I have no hope of ever meeting her?
"Cherith, how much longer do you want to stay out here?"
Up ahead, Cherith turned around and threw Jag a smirk. "Getting tired, big brother?"
Jag stopped and stared at her. "I was tired already, Cherith."
"Didn't sleep well?"
"No, not really."
"Ah, you went to the Radynas last night."
Jag raised an eyebrow. "What gives you that idea?"
Cherith kept her smile in place, but there seemed to be a hint of frustration, sadness, even anger in her blue eyes as she replied. "You tend to be moody and reflective after you visit Danyelle, but you're never this bad. What happened?"
Jag sighed as he moved to join her. "Father and I had an argument last night about Danyelle. I walked out on dinner and went to Danyelle's."
"That's not all," Cherith stated.
Jag closed his eyes for a moment. "No," he sighed. "When I got there, she informed me that her parents were gone for the night, and, well, you can imagine what happened then."
Cherith raised her eyebrows. "I hope you set her straight immediately."
"Oh, don't worry. I did. But then when I got home, I realized that there's something missing from our relationship... It's all so physical. I can't talk with her about anything that interests me. But then I get into an argument like last night's-"
"And you don't want to admit to Father that he's right," Cherith interrupted gently.
"I never said that."
"No, but you implied it. Jag, you're my brother and my best friend. I know you better than anyone else, I suspect. You're a lot like Father, and neither of you like to admit that you're wrong. But sometimes you are. You have to let yourself be human, Jag."
He was a long time in answering. "Cherith, sometimes it seems like, if I don't stand up to him now about Danyelle, he'll just do the same thing with every other woman I ever seem interested in."
Cherith smiled. "Jag, he can't do that. He's just trying to make sure that you don't waste your time with someone who isn't worth your time."
She started to head down into the valley, but Jag headed the other way, along the ridge toward the northern cliffs. "Let's go this way."
Cherith rolled her eyes. "You just don't what to climb back up after we get down there."
"Perceptive, aren't you?" Jag replied.
They continued in silence along the ridge of the mountain sloping into the Freal Valley. The ground was fragile and their footing was unsound. When they reached the cliffs, Cherith pointed to the valley floor below them. Large boulders had broken off the cliffs and piled below them. "Jag, isn't this a little unusual?"
"I'd say so," he answered, looking down at the valley as he joined her. "That must have been the reason for the warnings. They knew that the cliff was breaking up."
"I wonder if the danger is past," she replied, obviously a little nervous.
Before Jag could answer, they heard a loud cracking noise below them. As the ground began to shake, Jag tried to drag Cherith out of the way, backing away from the edge himself. Noticing a crack just behind him, he pushed his sister hard, sending her flying backward and out of danger.
Jag vaguely heard Cherith scream as the rocks plummeted and he found himself groping for a handhold. He found none, and after a few seconds, he and the remainder of the cliff hit the valley floor. A blinding pain in his left leg told him that the bone was shattered. His vision began to blur and his head started spinning, and he realized that he had struck his head. After a few seconds, his breathing became more difficult, and the valley faded to black.
"I think he's waking up."
"It's about time. How many days has he been unconscious?"
Jag moaned softly as life filtered back and voices drifted around him lazily. Days? he asked himself.
He blinked groggily, letting blinding light assail his eyes. When he was able to open them again, he saw his parents standing over him. "Welcome back, Jag," his father said. "We were worried that you weren't coming back."
Jag forced his eyes to stay open. "I wasn't so sure of it myself," he replied. "Where's Cherith?"
His mother smiled. "She's fine, Jag. She was a little bruised up, but otherwise she's fine. You, on the other hand, are going to be laid up for a while."
Jag blinked in response, and his father continued, "Your leg was rather badly broken. They actually had to set the bone in the field because they were afraid to move you."
He looked down at his leg, which was set in a heavy bacta cast, and looked at his father again. "You're lucky," the older man continued. "You probably would have died in the cold if Cherith hadn't been out there with you. She saved your life."
Jag nodded, trying to take it all in. "Can I see her?"
His mother shook her head. "There's fighting going on just outside the system. Cherith wanted to stay here till you regained consciousness, but she was called up to fill one of the vacant spots in Spike Squadron."
Letting out a long breath, Jag replied, "When she gets back, can you send her here? I want to thank her."
His mother smiled. "Of course. We could hardly get her to leave when she was here."
He suddenly remembered what he had heard as he regained consciousness. "How long was I out?" he asked.
"Two weeks," his father answered. "You came close to dying several times."
Jag let his head sink a little deeper into his pillow, suddenly feeling very tired. His mother picked up on it immediately. "We should go now, dear," she said. "You need to rest."
They turned to go, but before they left, a Chiss officer in full dress uniform arrived at the door. He saluted the general, who returned it. "At ease."
Jag propped himself up on his elbows with great difficulty and watched as his mother's face blanched. What is it, Mother?
As the Chiss opened his mouth to speak, Jag realized why his mother was so pale. She had been visited once like this before.
"General, madam, I have the regretful duty of informing you that your daughter, Lieutenant Cherith Fel, was killed in action yesterday. Her remains were not found."
Shock washed over Jag, and he suddenly felt numb. Cherith? Killed? How?
He knew, of course, that every time he took off in his clawcraft there was a risk that he would never come back. But Cherith is a better pilot than that, isn't she?
Is there such a thing as too good to be killed?
Mentally Jag reviewed the battles he'd been in, and he was disturbed to realize how many times he had come so close to death. He'd been lucky to have remained alive as long as he had, because he certainly wasn't any better than Cherith.
But Cherith was only out there because I wasn't.
With that realization, Jag looked back up at his parents. His father lowered his head, while his mother buried her face in her hands. Jag's head hit the pillow again, and he fought to keep his face stoic, like his father's. But he couldn't stop the tears from streaking his face.
I didn't get to say goodbye...
"Cherith Fel, rest in peace."
Jag had shed his tears when he was told of Cherith's death. Since then his sorrow had turned into rage at those who had sent his sister to her death, at the one who had killed her. But he had been present when his parents told Jon of Cherith's fate, and Jag had been struck by how he reacted. The engineer had been shocked, so much that he had been brought to tears, but after he had calmed himself, he had said that he needed to move on, that Cherith would have wanted it that way. Slowly, Jag's anger faded and let him grieve.
Now, at the memorial service a week after Cherith's death, Jag did his best to remain strong, to help his mother, and to guide Kalin and Lexi, who did not understand that their sister would never come home again. But as the Chiss admiral conducting the service brought his remarks to a close, he was joined by Danyelle, the last person he wanted to see in that time.
The assembly in the cemetery, where a marker lay bearing Cherith's name, began to disperse, and Jag began to follow his family. But Danyelle pulled him in the other direction. "Jag, I want to talk with you."
He sighed and threw an apologetic glance at his father. "What is it, Danyelle?"
"Come with me," she replied, dragging him away.
When they reached a secluded place, Danyelle wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. Jag didn't react, so she broke the kiss abruptly. "Jag, what's wrong?"
Jag merely stared at her in disbelief. When he didn't answer, she continued, "You haven't come to see me in three weeks, Jag."
He let his eyes close slowly in incredulity. "Danyelle, I was unconscious for two weeks and then my sister died."
The look she speared him with told him that she didn't accept that excuse. "Well, at least we'll have more time to spend together now."
Jag resisted the urge to slap her. What did I ever see in you, Danyelle? My father was right.
I'm not ashamed to admit it, either.
Danyelle continued to stare at him, expecting an answer. Finally he spoke. "Goodbye, Danyelle."
As he turned and walked away from her, she called after him insistently. He continued walking, ignoring her childish pleas.
Six months later
"Sir, you wanted to see me?" Jag asked as he stepped into his father's office.
"Come in, son," he replied. Jag entered and stood before his father's desk. The older man smiled slightly. "Jag, this isn't a performance review. Have a seat."
Jag sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. "What is it, Father?"
"I've noticed a change in your flying in the last six months, Jag," he began. "You've developed an edge that I didn't expect you to have for years."
Unsure of what to say, Jag simply replied, "Thank you, sir."
His father nodded. "Do you have any idea why this might be?"
Jag bowed his head, unwilling to speak the reason. Finally he met his father's uncompromising stare and huskily replied, "Cherith."
"I thought so," the general commented after a moment's silence. "I would have thought that you would have been more... accepting, shall we say, of death, though."
Jag swallowed hard. "I saw men die all the time. I lost a brother to battle. But I never thought that my younger sister would precede me to the grave... It always seemed like she was in a safe haven, because she was my little sister. I didn't think anything could hurt her."
"And now you've seen that she wasn't in a haven here, and you've sharpened your own skills."
Jag nodded. "I think I finally just started to look at things realistically."
"Death can do that. Either it brings destruction and despair, or it brings rebirth and hope. I think, in your case, you learned from Cherith's death and moved on." Jag looked up as his father stopped. The older man looked down at his desk and added quietly, "After all, she's in a new haven now, a haven of peace, one where she can't be harmed."
Jag nodded, disinclined to speak again. "But I think there was another reason," his father continued. "You haven't seen Danyelle much in the last six months."
Looking back at his father, he replied, "No, sir, I haven't seen her at all."
His father raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"
Jag cleared his throat. "The day of the memorial service, I finally realized what you realized long ago." His gaze wandered off and rested on a holo on his father's desk, an image of himself, Davin, Cherith, Kalin, and Lexi. Tears began to form and the pressure in his throat threatened to choke out speech, but he fought past it. "I looked at her and saw that there was nothing to see."
"I see." His father rose and extended his hand. "Thank you for coming, Jag."
Jag rose and took his father's hand. "Thank you, sir."
As they shook hands across the desk, the general said, "I'm sorry it didn't work out, son."
"I'm not," Jag replied coolly. "I was too wrapped up in myself to see that I was wasting my time. She wasn't worth it, and she isn't worth languishing over."
"Jag, don't worry about it too much now. Concentrate on flying," his father replied, taking Jag's hand in both of his. "You'll find the one who is worth it, when you aren't looking."
Original cover by jedi_of_ennth. HTML formatting copyright 2001 TheForce.Net LLC.