Chapter Text
As soon as her last debriefing with NR Intelligence was over, Mara hurried to her temporary quarters in the Imperial Palace, threw her bag on the carved four-poster bed and started packing. Skywalker had been in that meeting, and sitting near him, the Emperor’s command had thundered so loudly, she’d hardly been able to get the words out about what had happened with C’baoth.
She’d hardly been able to keep herself from leaping over the conference table and finishing the job that she’d only half completed on Wayland.
So she was getting herself off Coruscant. Today. And she was nearly ready to walk out the door when she heard a knock.
Her hands froze halfway through zipping up her duffel bag. Reaching out in the Force, she felt an incandescent presence on the other side of the door.
YOU WILL KILL LUKE SKYWALKER, the voice rang in her head, as if she’d needed further confirmation of just who it was who’d come to see her.
She took a deep, steadying breath.
“Come in,” she called.
There was a click and the ornately paneled door swung open, revealing Skywalker in the entryway.
“Hey.” He smiled in greeting, then narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her. “Is this a bad time?”
“I have an uncontrollable urge to murder you,” she said flatly. “It’s always a bad time.” She tugged the zipper on her bag the rest of the way shut, with a bit more force than was necessary. “But I’m about to head off planet, so I suppose there won’t be any other time than this. So what is it?”
“You’re leaving already?” he asked, instead of acknowledging any of the rest of what she’d said. If she didn’t know any better, she might’ve thought he was disappointed. “I thought Karrde still had business with the Smugglers’ Alliance to work out.”
“He does. I don’t.” Which meant she’d be hopping on a random public transport to the nearest transit hub, where she’d wait for Karrde to pick her up. She didn’t say that, though, in the hopes that Skywalker would get the point that she was in no mood for a chat. She stood there leaning with one hand on the foot of the bed, staring levelly at him.
“Right,” he finally said. “Well, I’ll get to the point.”
“Gee, Skywalker. Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
He ducked his head and grinned, and something squeezed in her chest. Then he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. A vision flashed through her head—of her holdout blaster dropping into her hand, of her raising it and shooting a beam of light right between his eyes. A vision so vivid that it almost felt like it had happened. She wrestled the fantasy from her mind, trying to quell the panic swelling inside her where something almost like tenderness had bloomed just moments before.
“Speaking of you wanting to kill me,” Skywalker was saying, with far too much lightness, “that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Okay. I don’t know what else there is to say about it, though.”
“I actually thought that when you killed my clone, that that would end it. And the fact that it didn’t, it got me thinking, well …” He met her eyes, gaze suddenly intense. “What if we just need to take things into our own hands with this?”
“I absolutely agree that that is what needs to be done. Which is why I’m getting the kriff out of here.”
“No, I mean—doing something to get this thing out of your head. Completely and forever. So that you can have your mind back—your life back.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. I have a life,” she said, though she couldn’t deny the foolish hope that sparked in her chest. “But what are we talking about here? Is there some kind of Force technique you know about that can stop this?”
“I wish there was. Or if there is, I haven’t come across it yet. But no—what I’m talking about is something much less mystical and much more literal.”
“And that is?”
He opened his mouth, then shut it again and held up a finger. “Just to warn you, this is going to sound crazy.”
“So it’ll confirm what I already think about you.”
“Or it could make it worse,” he said wryly, before turning serious. “Mara, it’s possible for a person to die—to stop breathing and have their heart stop—and then get brought back to life.” He paused for a moment as if to let that sink in. “So what I’m thinking is that you need to kill me, but do it in such a way that I can be revived afterwards, and that’s how you’re going to get free of this thing.”
She should’ve pieced it together that that was where he was going with this, but the suggestion still hit her like a fist to the stomach—and it made her just as angry as if he’d actually punched her, too.
YOU WILL KILL LUKE SKYWALKER.
YOU WILL KILL LUKE SKYWALKER.
YOU WILL KILL LUKE SKYWALKER, the command hungrily agreed with him.
“No!” she said, not even trying to mask her horror. She backed a couple steps away from him. “No, what the kriff is wrong with you? I’m not tempting fate like that.”
“Mara, I know it sounds extreme—”
“It sounds extreme because it is extreme! It’s lunacy!”
He held his hands up in a calming gesture. “It honestly wouldn’t be the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m not even sure it would make it into the top three.”
She made an incredulous noise. “I’m not having this conversation.”
“Okay, just hear me out. Obviously, I’m not going to force you to do this if you’re uncomfortable, but … but I’ve been tortured, almost to death, by Force lightning. During the Battle of Mindor, a Dark Sider tried to take over my mind and body, and made me live what literally felt like a million years in desolate nothingness. Not long after that, one of the Nightsisters on Dathomir nearly killed me by using the Force to burst blood vessels in my brain.”
“Force,” Mara said softly. She hugged herself, feeling pained on his behalf just thinking of all that—and feeling ashamed all of a sudden for how little respect she used to have for him until recently. “I didn’t know you’d been through all that.”
“So you see what I’m saying?” he asked gently, as if this was harder on her than it was on him. “That if you say, drowned me for a couple minutes and then resuscitated me, it would be, well, not great in comparison, but …”
He trailed off with a meaningful look.
She said, “You know, if this is all an elaborate ruse to get a woman to finally kiss you …”
He just laughed at that. His face lit up with another of those bright grins that she used to find so grating. But at some point she couldn’t define (after he defied the NR and broke her out of house arrest? after he offered to sacrifice himself so that she and the others could escape C’baoth?), his smiles had become a much more welcome sight.
He said, “Don’t worry. I’m not that desperate.”
“Uh-huh. So you say.” It was a light tease—one that belied how heavy she felt with the weight of the choice he’d just placed before her.
Crossing her arms, she turned away from him, walking over to the Fijisi wood desk that sat in front of the window. Outside, framed by the window’s decorative border of stained transparisteel, it looked like one of Coruscant’s violent thunderstorms was brewing—the tops of the starscrapers lost in the underbelly of a dark cloud. The sky rumbling with soft thunder, like a beast purring deep in its throat.
Part of her still felt like it was wrong to accept his offer. Just because he had no sense of self-preservation didn’t mean she should take advantage of that. And gods, the risks involved with this—if she lost control, or if something just went wrong. If she actually killed the galaxy’s only remaining Jedi. If she heaped one more loss on Organa Solo’s head, when the woman had trusted her not to.
If she destroyed a man simply because he had faith in her.
Well, she’d find a way to live with it. But she didn’t want to. She had enough things to live with already.
There was another part of her, though—the cool, calculating part—that found his proposal to be a logical solution to an otherwise intractable problem.
That recognized it as the key that would unlock this chain that the Emperor had bound her with.
Because Skywalker was right. She did want her mind back. With each day that passed since she’d learned the truth about the command, she wanted more and more to wipe every last trace of the Emperor from her psyche.
And maybe more than anything, she wanted to find out who she could be once freed of his influence.
“Credit for your thoughts?” Skywalker asked, pulling her out of her head.
Slowly, she turned to face him again, one arm wrapped around her ribs, the other hand gripping the back of her neck. He’d sat down on the foot of the bed, legs stretched out straight in front of him and crossed at the ankle. Eyes watching her intently.
“Why?” she asked.
He raised his eyebrows a little, questioning.
“Why would you be willing to die just to help me?” she asked.
“Well, I wouldn’t really be dying. I’d briefly be going into cardiac and respiratory arrest.”
“Semantics.”
“Anyway, I think it’d be obvious,” he said, looking a little amused. “Better to be temporarily murdered than permanently murdered, you know.”
“If you were actually so worried about being permanently murdered—which is redundant, by the way—then you wouldn’t have done half the things you’ve done since we met. In fact, you wouldn’t be sitting in this room. You’d just let me leave.”
“But that’s just it,” he said, eyes turning bright with some aching emotion. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to never see you or never speak to you again. Or … if you wanted it that way, of your own volition, then of course I would respect your wishes. But for this to happen just because Palpatine is kriffing around with you from beyond the grave …”
Shaking his head, he trailed off, mouth set in a thin line.
And for a moment, Mara was speechless. Breath caught in her throat, pulse racing as she wondered if everything he’d just said meant what she thought it did.
Then he winced. “I’m sorry. That came out a little strong. Look, all I’m trying to say is, you’re the only Force sensitive I know who’s not related to me. Plus, Leia’s busy with her career. The twins are just babies. If I have any hope of rebuilding the Order—”
Oh. Of course, she thought, something deflating inside her that she didn’t want to examine.
“And if you’re not interested, you’re not interested,” he said hurriedly. “But again—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you don’t want my choice to be because of the Emperor. I get it. Message received.”
Luke sighed heavily. “Mara, I care about you. Not to mention, I owe you my life. Of course, I want to help you in return. Of course, I want you to be happy.” He stood and walked over to her, his boots leaving slight impressions in the floral carpet with each step. “I have a million reasons for offering to do this, and I’m not doing a very good job of expressing them, but that’s the main one. It really is that simple. And if that doesn’t make sense to you, then—” He shrugged. “Then we don’t have to try this. But it makes sense to me.”
He reached out and took her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze, his fingers rough and warm. This close, she could smell him—a fresh, soap-y fragrance that mingled with the scent of Fijisi wood that suffused the room. And for just a second, that breathless feeling from moments earlier returned.
Until a chorus of YOU WILL KILL LUKE SKYWALKER crescendoed in her head, accompanied by the burning need to lunge forward and grab his lightsaber. To activate it right as she yanked it from his belt, slicing him open in one smooth motion from hip bone to clavicle.
With a sharp inhale, she went rigid. Clearly sensing her unease, Skywalker dropped her hand. Gave her a sad little smile, then mercifully put some space between them.
She faced the window again, pressing the heels of both hands to the top of her head and screwing her eyes shut. Forcing the images of his slashed body from her mind.
It was never going to end, was it? She could put a billion light-years of hard vacuum between them, and yes, that would temper the command.
But it would never end.
Unless—
She opened her eyes just as the clouds burst. The rain came down so thick that it was like a white, translucent scrim, making all but the closest starscrapers look like ghosts. And even though it was still only mid-afternoon, it was dark enough outside now that sensor-triggered lights were winking on everywhere. Dark enough that she could see her reflection in the window, too, along with Skywalker’s behind her.
He’d moved to the door.
“I’ll leave,” he said, voice quiet and apologetic.
“No, wait,” she said in a rush. “Drowning, huh? That’s your brilliant idea?”
She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or unnerved that, as soon as she spoke those words, the killing urge inside her calmed.
Without missing a beat, Skywalker said, “Off the top of my head, that seems like the easiest death to bring someone back from.”
“Your life is literally going to be hanging in the balance here, and you’re giving me ideas off the top of your head?”
“Well, one thing at a time. I figured I’d wait to find out if you actually wanted to go for this before working out the details.”
Mara just shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t know if drowning would really work,” she said. “I’d have to hold you under, and eventually your survival reflexes would kick in and you’d easily get free.”
“You could sedate me beforehand,” he said helpfully. “Or I could put myself in some kind of trance.”
“I still don’t like it. I’m not familiar enough with it. I only ever practiced drowning beings a couple of times. And it’s not a method I ever actually used out in the field.”
Skywalker’s eyes widened a little at that, and for a second, he looked every inch the sheltered farm kid. But thankfully he didn’t ask her for the details of what those practice sessions had actually entailed. Maybe she should’ve told him explicitly. Given him a harsh reminder of just exactly what kind of devil he was making a deal with.
In a carefully neutral voice, he asked, “So what method—or methods—would you feel more comfortable with?”
She put her hands on her hips, thinking as the wind moaned and splattered rain against the window. Her mind taking to the problem like a loth pup to its favorite chew toy. As morbid as this conversation was, she had to admit it was strangely invigorating. Or maybe not so strangely. After all, she thought darkly, in another lifetime killing had been her area of expertise. And it felt so good, as good as spice must feel to an addict, to be reminded that she had once been an expert—been the best—at something, no matter what that something might’ve been.
“Cymatiatoxin,” she finally said. “It’s a poison extracted from a venomous land snail on Kashyyyk.”
“Gotta watch out for those land snails,” Skywalker said.
“It’s well-suited for what we’re trying to do. Subtle. It’ll put you to sleep before it really starts to shut your body down, so it won’t be painful. And its antidote is 100% effective. It’s a great option if you have to share poisoned food or drink with a mark. Or if you’re trying to get information out of someone. Give them the poison and then dangle the antidote as incentive for them to cough up whatever you want.”
“Did a lot more of that than drowning people, huh?” Skywalker asked, an edge to his voice that she couldn’t help but interpret as judgment.
She bristled. “You know what, for your information, I never killed anyone without cause. I personally investigated my targets, and if it turned out they were innocent, I spared them. The people I did kill were corrupt, they were treasonous—”
He crossed his arms. “That’s not what I was getting at.” He stared off into space for a moment, eyes hard. “Mara, I know for a fact that I’ve killed far more people than you have. And yeah, it was war, but I don’t think that necessarily makes it any better. Might honestly make it worse, that I got to hide from the grisly reality of it in my cockpit most of the time. But at least I had a choice in the matter.” His expression softened. “I’m not upset with you. I mean, all you’re doing is being honest with me. What I am upset about is that Palpatine made you do his dirty work at all.”
She waited for her anger on behalf of the Emperor to flare, but it didn’t come. Instead, all she felt was sheepish and undeserving.
Skywalker said, “Because I’ve seen who you really are. And I know that’s not you. Ever since I’ve met you, all you’ve done is prove that you’re a good person, over and over and over again.”
“Of course I’m a good person,” she said. “I don’t need the Jedi stamp of approval to know that.”
The words didn’t have any real fire behind them, though. And deep inside, all she could think was that for his sake, she hoped he was right. Because this insane plan of his was going to test her character like nothing before.