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| - Though still impossibly weak and wracked with pain now and then from her injuries, Jessalyn was permitted to leave the Halls of Healing under strict orders to stay off her feet and rest as much as possible for the next few days. She's now wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets upon the couch in her quarters, too restless to sleep. The baby's cradle has been moved so it sits beside the couch, and she has one foot stretched out to rock it back and forth while she reads a datapad she holds in her hands. For a while, anyway. Unable to focus, she sits up straighter and reaches for her glass of tea, taking a sip and trying to gather up the courage to have the conversation with Paul that they've both been avoiding. Courage is kind of hard to come by right, though, so she starts off with something less personal, clearing her throat and glancing over at Paul. "I was surprised that Luke gave permission for Jaina start training with Colten already. I think she's too young for that sort of thing yet. Missions? For a nine-year old?" Paul is attentive and quick to respond to all of Jessalyn's needs, as he always is, and yet for one so present it is amazing how distant he is as well. He offers her food, drink, comfort, carries her to wherever she might wish to go, supplies her with whatever she might need. But he keeps busy as well, his work out in the living room when she is, his nose often buried in a book, his face illuminated by the faint light of a datapad. To anyone else, Paul would seem quite himself again albeit perhaps a little more subdued that usual. But it is likely that Jessalyn can tell that he is keeping something very close to his chest and to himself. His gaze lifts from his study as Jessalyn speaks up, a moment of bemusement and confusion coloring his expression before context slips into place and he rumbles, "Oh ... Jaina ... the Solo kid, yes? It's been a long time since he and Han had spoken and even then it at been cursory at best, a verbal spar between two strong-headed Corellians or discussions of how best to rescue Luke from being sold off as a statue. As such he's a little less than up on what the scoundrel and ex-princess have been up to or how many children they have. "Well," he offers reasonably, "what makes you say that there will be missions? Just because one is in training doesn't mean there isn't plenty of basic groundwork to be covered and dealt with first?" His head tilts to one side before a wry smile plays over his lips noting, "Then again, if she's the daughter of Han and Leia, he might not have had much choice in the matter. It could very well have been either give her someone to go on training missions with or find her off creating her own 'missions', much like Lyra with less of the crazy." Giving a soft snort of laughter, Jessalyn can't help but concede that point. She's known all the Solo children, since they've spent so much time among the enclave of Younglings here at the Temple, and is well aware of Jaina's propensity for stubborn heroics. "You're probably right. She's quite the troublemaker. At least she'll be putting some of that energy to good use, perhaps. Still... it won't be very long until Kiri's that age, and I'll wring Luke's neck if he thinks he's pulling that with him." She folds her hands in her lap and gives him a considering look, smoothing her expression into concerned but also composed lines. "Paul... will you tell me what really happened now? I know something is bothering you... You can't hide it from me. But maybe I can help?" "Kiri is very different than Jaina. I'm sure that Luke is observant and smart enough to know that each person needs a different approach to their education and that what is best for Jaina may not be what is best for Kiri," Paul notes reasonably. "Kiri is not so adventuresome and, ahh, free-spirited?" From Jessalyn's reaction, he's guessing that Jaina is not a girlie-girl who likes dolls and embroidery. At her question, however, Paul shifts in his seat and after a moment puts the book and datapad before him aside, his hands sliding lightly over the surface of the wood table in front of him before he asks in return, "What do you remember?" Craning her neck to peek into the cradle, Jessa makes sure the baby's asleep before she shifts on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her and wrapping one of the blankets around herself more securely. "I remember... Darth Malign," she starts off, her voice quiet. "He wanted me to kill him, but I couldn't bring myself to do it, and... it made the Emperor mad." She blinks, her fingers tightening around the folds of the blanket, shivering at the memory and closing her eyes tightly shut. "The Emperor... he was going to kill you, so I attacked him, and then... then..." She trails off, remembering the lightning and the pain and the chaos, and her growing fear as she sensed her own death approaching. "The lightning. It stopped, and then you were carrying me. That's all I can remember." Paul's features are quiet and calm, but his eyes are dark and haunted as Jessalyn recalls what she can and his mind and memory fills in the rest, his head nodding in return. "You attacked him, you cut him down the back, a blow that would have killed anyone else. But I guess the Emperor truly is not human any longer, because the blow simply made him angrier. He turned to you, saying that he was going to kill you, and then he started to, using the lightning. But in his rage and pain, he forgot about Lyra and me. The wind that was pinning us dropped away. I had no weapon, no way of stopping him, and I knew that throwing myself between you would not stop him from killing you ... he would only have killed us both. So I reached down and picked up his lightsaber that he had simply dropped. Lyra started shooting him in the back and I ... I activated the saber and cut off his hands so he couldn't hurt you any more." His eyes close, his head drops a little as he relives the moment in his mind's eye, continuing on. "He wasn't dead. I don't know if he even can be killed. Maybe I should have tried to kill him. Maybe I should have kept hacking at him till he was nothing but tiny pieces of meat. But I was too afraid that he would simply start hurting you some other way. I needed to make sure you were even alive. You weren't moving any more. I had to get you out of there. And then the tomb started shaking, falling apart, as he tried to crush us all to death rather than let us escape. Somehow we were able to get out before everything crumbled on top of us." As Paul begins to describe what happened, Jessalyn is transported back, his words providing the missing pieces to figure out how she did indeed manage to survive the Emperor's seemingly omnipotent wrath. Her muscles twitch in response, as if remembering the jolts of electricity and the agonizing pain. When he reveals to her how he stopped the attack, however, Jessa opens her eyes widely and stares across at Paul, her heart lurching in her chest. "You used his lightsaber...?" It makes sense, the weapon was there for him to use, and Paul is no stranger to wielding a sword. But somehow it seems surprising to her. The smile she gives the Corellian is at once sad, joyful and grateful all at the same time. "Thank you," she murmurs softly, knowing he won't like her saying it, but needing to just the same. "We got out of there alive because of you." She hesitates, then pats the spot beside her on the couch. "C'mere." A flush touches his cheeks as Jessalyn thanks him, hazel eyes opening again as he looks up at her through the lock of hair that has fallen over his brow. His mouth opens, as if to protest, but he rises up and crosses over to sit on the couch next to her carefully, as if worried about jarring her and hurting her. "We got out of there alive because the Emperor lost his temper and because of sheer dumb luck." He still looks uncomfortable though. Uncertain. It's the implications, the suspicion that has grown too strong to ignore, that has been given to much proof not to be positive. That look he gives her is enough to make her heart skip a beat, even now, and she suppresses a bemused smile as he reacts with embarrassment at her thanks. She can't help but find it amusing that after all the times he's bemoaned his inability to protect her, he'd come through and saved her from what would certainly have been her death. As he settles down next to her, she shifts to face him more fully, reaching out to touch his hand, clasping it between both of hers. Projecting calm and assurance, she tilts her head and tries to catch Paul's gaze, giving him a gentle smile. "You should know by now that us Jedi types don't really believe in dumb luck. I know you're afraid," she says. "I'm a little afraid, too. I believe the Force is with you, Paul. I don't really understand how or why, but I do know that your destiny is not set in stone. That it's yours to choose, no matter what's inside of you." Frowning at her words, Paul's hands shift, curling about till they are palms up and lightly holding hers in turn. "You know exactly why," he counters softly. "You saw it. So did I. Malign. Malign has changed my DNA, is turning me into his kin. His alchemy, his corruption of my DNA is what has given me this ... ability. I knew it in the vision of a past event re-written. And I knew it when I picked up the Emperor's saber and was able to wield it." His head turns, his eyes lifting to Jessalyn as he notes, "I'm no fool. I did the research. I know that if I didn't have the ability, I couldn't have used the saber. And the fact that it was /his/ saber ... I find that telling as well, don't you." He looks away, staring straight ahead and then down to the floor. "I don't want it. I don't want the Force." Sighing, Jessalyn shakes her head slowly, her eyes beseeching. "I know you don't," she whispers. "And I don't blame you. What Malign did to you wasn't right, and I'm going to continue to find a way to heal you, Paul. We're going to track down the crystal and use it." She squeezes his hands lightly, watching his face as he looks away, seemingly ashamed, and she shakes her head again. "But... you need to understand something. It's not Malign's genes that make him evil, that turned him to the Dark Side. That was the choice that he made. And you used the Force in defense, Paul. I don't sense the Darkness in you." She hesitates, pressing his hands again, then murmurs, "But untrained... you are a more vulnerable target. More likely to be swayed by someone like Malign and the Emperor. Remember... remember when you told me that the best reason that I had for becoming a Jedi was so that I could defend myself from people like Alora?" His lips twist into a crooked, lopsided sort of smirk as Paul rumbles, "How ironic, isn't it? Complaining about how I'm so much less because I don't have the Force and then wanting to throw it away when suddenly I do?" His head nods in understanding though at her assurances, but part of him still wonders, still isn't completely convinced. "But what if that isn't it? What if there is a genetic predisposition? Has that ever been studied, quantified? Nature vs. nuture, but we all know that who we are is a bit of both. Only my very 'nature' is being changed against my will. He turns his head to the side as he leans forward, resting his elbows upon his knees. "I just don't know. I don't feel Dark either. But then it is clear that Malign does not believe that what he does is 'wrong' either. And I know that I could be pushed to that point. In the vision I was, and if I had then what I have now? If I had the Force then as I do now, I can't say that I wouldn't have done what you saw. They deserved to die. Each and every one of them. A young girl died to save me and Ylsa. I could have stopped that. I could have saved her." His hands curl about themselves, a step short of wringing as he nods. "So I need training." He frowns then and asks, "Does this mean I'm going to have to wear those robes?" Clearly the idea very much does not agree with the Corellian. "Genetic predisposition... like Lord Vader, and his descendants, maybe?" Jessalyn smiles. "I will always believe we are responsible for what we make of ourselves. And every Jedi struggles against the temptations of the Dark Side. I've felt it. I've used it, much to my shame. And that... that vision I saw, in the water. I mean, that's not me. Right? The last thing I want is people to bow at my feet. But I still have that capability, if I let the Dark Side twist me enough, if I gave into it. That's why training and discipline is so important." As he turns, Jessalyn rests her hand lightly on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I don't think the robes are a requirement, except on special occasions," she says, unable to keep from smiling. "I can show you a few things... some ways to protect yourself, and sense the Force. But I'll talk to Luke and see what he thinks." Shoulders shrug. There are exceptions to every rule - doesn't mean that a predisposition does not exist. But Jessalyn is right on one level. Why borrow trouble? He can cross that bridge if and when he gets to it. He does look a little relieved that he won't have to wear a school uniform at the age of 39 and nods at the mention of talking to Luke. "Yeah, I guess what would probably be a good idea. Talk to Luke, get some basic training at least so I don't do anything stupid till I figure out how to get rid of Malign's DNA." His head turns as he reaches out to lay one hand on Jessalyn's knee, rubbing it gently as he notes, "But when you're recovered. Not before." Wondering what his perception will be once Paul actually learns to sense and control the Force, to be able to sense the connections between all living things, Jessalyn wonders if then he'll be so eager to find a way to be rid of it. But she leaves that question for another day and smiles at Paul as he gives her knee a gentle rub. "I won't exert myself, don't worry," she says with a sigh of regret, leaning back into the couch cushions and giving him a playful wink. "But if you want to try some little simple exercise, I can show you something easily enough. Maybe just to prove to yourself that you're not helpless, that you can have control over what's happening to you." The Corellian looks dubious at Jessalyn's suggestion, both that she can show him how he is not so helpless and that there is anything he can do to control what is happening to him. But rather than dismiss or demure, he simply replies, "So long as it won't weary or put any stress on you ..." even if he is a bit wary of the idea. He shifts on the couch, turning sideways so he is facing her and asking, "What do you want me to do?" "I want you to... close your eyes," Jessalyn instructs, drawing back her hands and resting them in her lap, her voice dropping to a soft, modulated tone that she often uses when she's giving instructions that require her students to find a center of inner peace. The Force itself molds her voice, and she does the same as she asks Paul to do, closing her eyes and focusing inward. "Be at peace. Calm, passive. Listen to your own heartbeat. Hear the blood in your veins. Feel each breath... each twine of muscle around bone... every nerve weaving through your body. This is what you are. Can you feel it? All the whispers of life within you, a part of the whole... a part of the living Force." She herself can feel those nerves all too readily, but she takes the time to soothe her own injured body as she has Paul learn to connect with his. "If you look deeper... into yourself... you'll see it. You'll see the links between yourself and the Force... you'll see the brightness of your Self." Taking a deep breath Paul shifts a little to get more comfortable and then closes his eyes as asked. He listens to Jessalyn, feeling a trifle silly, but concentrating on the matter and imagining that he is at the side of some shaman or guru of a strange culture, following and learning their customs. For a long time he just sits there, breathing, slowly relaxing, focusing on his own body and its sounds and workings. It's more difficult than he would have expected. Being a very cerebral person, Paul is often out of touch with his body, skipping meals, pushing himself too far, and as such he's not familiar with paying attention to it - what it wants, what it says, what it feels like. But after struggling with frustration and working on really focusing, he frowns a little. "It's ... it's wrong ...." Paul notes with an unpleasant hitch in his voice. There's the part of him that is still him, but it's being encroached by something that is decidedly /not/ him ... and the /not/ Paul is where the links between himself and the Force are growing in number. His eyes snap open abruptly as he loses that focus, frowning. Her delicate hand, lined faintly with fading scars, rests on Paul's arm as she gives him a compassionate look. Jessalyn is at something of a loss herself, torn between wanting to open his eyes to his potential, and being repulsed by the transformation Malign has wrought through the evil of his alchemy. She's never been exposed to someone whose gift didn't come naturally -- at least as far as she knows. "Paul... no matter the source of your ability to sense it, the Force is the same in all of us. The same Force flows through you as me. Being able to sense it is not going to turn you into Malign." She frowns, thinking to herself and then says, "Look into me, then. You let me see inside you once a long time ago, so I'll return the favor. Can you sense the Force in me?" Her heart beats faster at the thought he might reject that idea, and she's reminded just why she'll make certain that if Paul is ever made into someone's Padawan, it won't be her. At first he doesn't really understand what she is suggesting, since he can't hear her heartbeat, can't feel her body like he does his own, a crease of confusion bending his brow just above his nose. But when he tries to focus on Jessalyn, on looking inside of her, the matter shifts and he realizes in an instant that he has felt this sensation before ... but from the other side of the equation. Jessalyn. In his head. Only now he's starting to enter hers. Before he can see too much, see anything, he jerks back and then shakes his head and murmurs, "Ahhhh, I'm not sure that's a good idea ..." The Corellian, understandably, is not exactly comfortable with people entering his mind and as such, the reciprocal action doesn't hold much appeal to him either. She is patient as she waits for him to understand and make the attempt, keeping her mind still and quiet, like a calm pool, and smiling slightly as she senses Paul's initial success. But when he realizes what's happening and immediately withdraws, she opens her eyes and furrows her brows. "What are you afraid of?" Jessalyn asks without accusation. "I won't ever show you anything you can't handle, but I understand.... Trust me. Here, close your eyes again, and just look at me with your mind. You don't have to... go prowling around in there, all right? At least not yet. Someday you might want to." She knows better than to force the issue. He's not her student to command around, and she's his lover, not his Master. "Close your eyes again," she repeats, clasping her hands together. "You can see it, hmm?" On occasion Jessalyn has intentionally allowed the brightness of her Force-essence to be unveiled, to let its glow wash over the Sight of another Force-sensitive who would be able to sense her power and see her aura, the shining gem-tints of her mind. She does that now, though her injuries have dulled the usually bright jewel tones of her mind. "I .... sorry Jessa, but being inside your mind, anyone's, that's just not something I'm comfortable with right now. Even invited." He's clearly feeling more agitated and anxious about this 'lesson' but he does try at least, taking another deep uneven breath and closing his eyes to 'look' at Jessalyn. He does so rather tentatively, his concentration keeping to the outside of her presence, but even there he can sense the Force entering her, exiting her, flowing through her, flowing with her and slowly after a moment he opens his eyes a nods. His expression is rather like a child who has been asked to taste something that they are very dubious about and still haven't decided if they like it or not. More often than not, when she's guided other students on their first steps to sensing the Force, they respond with wonder and surprise, and so Jessalyn isn't sure how to handle Paul's understandable hesitation. She'd hoped it might be easier coming from her, but perhaps it is just the opposite. When his eyes open again, unimpressed at his new ability, she shrugs and reaches over to take his hand -- only to be interrupted by the sudden cry coming from the cradle nearby. She jumps, startled, and reaches out automatically to scoop up the baby, peering down at her toothless mouth and puffy, tearful eyes. "Don't apologize," she says, glancing at Paul. "I'm sorry for asking you to do something you're not comfortable with." To say that Paul has somewhat conflicted feelings about the Force would be something of an understatement, which is perhaps why for him it is hard for him to feel amazed or filled with wonder. The man is nearly forth and a bit jaded in some ways with all the amazing and strange things that he has seen over the years. But he feels a pang of regret, suspecting that his lack of enthusiasm is disappointing to Jessalyn. Nodding he doesn't reply but shifts closer to peer at their daughter and noting, "I'll be really glad when she knows how to talk, cause right now I never know what it is that she wants ..." Leaning in closer he smiles at Sabine and instructs, "Use your words, Sabine." Maybe back in the bad old days Jessalyn would have felt like it was a rejection of her, or held it against him for not being glad to share this with her. But above all things she has learned patience and respect, and Jessalyn leans against Paul's side, smiling to herself as he looks down at the squalling newborn in her arms. "Patience is the first virtue of a Jedi," she muses, tickling Sabine's chin. "It's gonna take a while yet before she can use her words. Right, Sabine? That's right. You tell him." Rocking her gently back and forth, the baby quiets for a moment at least, and Jessa turns her head to kiss his cheek. "I think she's saying it's naptime for her and Mommy both." Reaching up, Paul curls his palm around Jessalyn's cheek to draw her back, kissing her gently on the mouth and lingering there for longer than they've had the opportunity to for quite some time. When he breaks the kiss his gold-green eyes flicker between hers as he notes, "Rest is good. Do you need anything?" Her lips go soft and pliant as he brings his mouth to hers, and Jessalyn's slight frame eases against him as she savors the kiss. When Paul draws away, she smiles into his eyes and shakes her head. "I have all I need right here," she murmurs, placing one more sweet kiss on his mouth and then handing over their daughter and snuggling down into the blankets. Tomorrow she will talk to Luke about how to go about Paul's instruction, so for now she puts those troubling thoughts out of her mind, needing the rest so she can be back on her feet sooner than later. "Thank you... for taking such good care of me..." she whispers, already drifting off.
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