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Luke drifted through the garden, the world simultaneously muted and almost painfully bright. Hundreds of beings representing scores of species mingled in the skyhook’s meticulously landscaped grounds, but none of them caught his attention. They were little more than multi-hued auras glimpsed out of the corners of his eyes as he moved inexorably toward the only individuals present that truly stood out.
Slipping between two knots of conversation, Luke finally caught sight of his sister. Her proximity grounded him into the moment, the world coming into focus around him. In her loose, elegant white gown, with her hair twisted into ornate braids atop her head, it was impossible to tell how recently she’d given birth. She turned to smile at him, the crystal flute of sparkling juice she held glinting in the sunlight as she motioned him over.
“Luke.” Leia caught his arm as he obediently stepped to her side. “This is Raahu Dhetuyu,” she introduced, motioning to a tall, broad-shouldered Chalactan male with rich brown skin standing beside her. “He’s with the Smuggler’s Alliance. He’s going to be at the meetings next week about altering the import/export taxes on grain in the Ombakond sector."
“Captain,” Luke guessed at the man’s title, nodding politely as he extended his hand. “I expect you’ll have your work cut out for you.”
“Liaison, actually.” Dhetuyu’s lips twitched toward a smile but nervousness poured off him, tingling against Luke’s skin in a way that made him itch. “I’m sure it’ll be an uphill battle, but I’ve no doubt we can reach some kind of arrangement.”
“Liaison?” A spike of wrongness stabbed through Luke’s ribs and the word came out more sharply than he’d intended. “That’s Mara’s position.”
Leia squeezed his arm gently and Luke reflexively smoothed his expression into one of distant, polite interest.
He’d gotten good at that on Byss. Hiding his thoughts, his feelings. Presenting precisely the right exterior. The idea that the Emperor had taught him things that were useful, that he still chose to do even now that he was free, made his gut twist violently enough that he’d have vomited if there’d been anything more than water in his stomach.
“It was, yes,” the man agreed. “But Captain Jade’s… unique skills were needed elsewhere. Some kind of special joint project between Captain Karrde and Director Wessiri-Antilles.” He held up one large hand in feigned helplessness. “I’m afraid I don’t have any details,” he apologized, “but I gave her my word I would hold the ground she fought so hard to win for the Alliance.”
Temptation wound itself through the muscles and bones of Luke’s shoulders, serpentine and cold. His whole body tightened as it pulled taut. Icy tendrils wafted from his collarbones toward the Liaison in a silent offer to fulfill his desire. It would be so easy to simply pluck the information he wanted from the man’s mind; he wouldn’t even have to think about it, really. He could simply stop fighting and let the dark side amuse itself. It would give him everything — what had been said, the expression on Mara’s face when she’d said it, the rumors swirling around in shadowy corners of hazy cantinas.
Beside him, Leia shifted her weight. The temptation vanished, evaporating like wisps of smoke into the ether.
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate your efforts,” Luke lied, inclining his head again and pressing his fingers over his sister’s where they still rested on his arm in a reassuring squeeze. “I hope your negotiations go well, Liaison.” He nearly choked on the word; it was clumsy on his tongue without the teasing inflection he’d always used when saying it to Mara. “Excuse me.”
Slipping away from them, Luke decided he was done for the evening. Ducking into a side corridor, he began a long, circuitous route back to his apartment.
Coruscant never slept and, swathed anonymously in his cloak, Luke lost himself in the late-night bustle of bodies and commerce. His bones were heavy with weariness and old, quiet resentment.
His father had taken the easy way out.
He’d always known that, to a degree. There were many things Vader could have done to save his son from the Emperor’s murderous wrath that wouldn’t have ended in his own death. Luke had assumed in the beginning it was simply an impulsive, pragmatic choice to throw the Emperor down the shaft. The fact that it rendered his father free of his suit and spared both him and the Rebellion the legal and logistical nightmare of figuring out what to do with one of the galaxy’s most notorious war criminals was simply a natural outcome of the former.
Now he knew the truth. His father had chosen to die because one shining moment of redemption was easy. Relinquishing the insidious pull of the dark side and clawing one’s way back to the light was an endless, excruciating, exhausting road to walk. Especially alone.
A fresh throbbing began in his skull and Luke pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Was Mara alone, wherever she was? The tendrils were back, curling like vines around the closed-off bond in his chest. Offering. Inviting.
No. The decision took less effort this time. He didn't have enough energy tonight, enough control to risk reaching out to her. To grapple with everything that reopening the link he’d sealed so tightly meant.
Shaking his head, as if he could fling every unwanted thought from it, Luke let himself into his apartment and moved toward his bedroom, shedding his cloak as he went. There were pills in the drawer that would guarantee he slept and did not dream. He needed that. He could fight with the world — and with himself — again in the morning when he’d rebuilt enough reserves to bear the crushing weight of it all.
Ben Kenobi had once called Mos Eisley a hive of scum and villainy. Luke thought the same description applied to the Corporate Sector; the only difference was that here the scum wore suits and the villains sipped the most expensive whiskey in the galaxy from diamond tumblers.
Uktesh Femk, the Nikto he was there to see, was one of the rare exceptions. An auditor who loved nothing in the galaxy but numbers, he had long been an ally of the New Republic with a habit of collecting things that might be of interest to them when they crossed his path. This time, those items had been holochrons, hence Luke’s visit.
They were real, surprisingly enough — the market for fakes was extensive and an ongoing source of frustration for Luke — and Uktesh assured the Jedi he’d have the paperwork completed by morning. He could swing by then, pick them up, and be back in his X-wing en route to Coruscant by lunch time.
Stepping out of Femk’s mirror-and-durasteel office block, Luke paused. Deep in the mass of beings and buildings to his left a familiar presence glinted. He almost missed it — it was muted, somehow. But another slice of pain made it light up like broken glass refracting sunlight. He was moving before he realized he’d made the decision, flowing through the crowds that subconsciously parted around him as he leaned into the Force trying to pinpoint Mara’s location.
Turning a corner, he stopped abruptly as the space opened up into a sprawling bazaar comprised of enormous floating platforms. The snap-crack of a neuro-whip dragged his gaze to the platform nearest him just as fresh pain sliced through his awareness.
A being in the loose, tan-and-ochre garb of a Savarian hit their knees as a corporate overseer waved its hands, shouting in disgust and remonstrance, his whip glowing orange as it swung around his head. Luke’s body locked in fury as the overseer brought the implement down again.
With a quick yank on the Force, Luke ripped out one of the platform’s stabilizers, causing the whole thing to rock and throwing the overseer off his feet. Shouts erupted and security staff moved in, herding everyone off the platform. One grabbed Mara’s arm and hauled her upright. Luke lost sight of her after that, but he kept his Force sense locked on hers, refusing to let go.
It was the wee hours of the morning, planetary time, before he could corner her. He’d tracked her to an elaborate estate with the kind of security that made it clear why she had been the first choice to infiltrate its walls. Even with the Force, it took effort to make it in unseen.
He watched from a dark corner, shadows wrapped around him, as one of the guards backed Mara against a wall, laughing. He knocked her hood away, giving Luke his first glimpse of her hair, cut to shoulder length and dyed a mousy brown. She’d darkened her skin to a tanned hue and sported fake tattoos associated with the Savarian religion. One eye was blackened, and there was deep bruising along her jaw.
The guard grabbed her chin, tipping her head back and muttering something guttural and crude that Luke couldn’t quite make out. Mara shook her head, making the man bark with anger. One meaty fist back-handed her into the wall and then he stalked off, still snarling threats.
Mara’s eyes blinked open and focused unerringly on Luke, seeing through all his masking. Turning, she hobbled away.
He followed, swift and silent, slipping inside the tiny cell that served as her room when she opened the door.
“Let me see,” he demanded, his voice a low growl as she turned from shutting the door securely behind her.
Mara waved him off, limping toward the slab that served as a bed.
“Mara.” Luke caught her arm, aware that his grip was too tight but unable to loosen it as he swung her around. “Let me see.”
She glared at him, but said nothing as he turned her face toward the weak light, then lifted her hand to inspect her poorly splinted fingers. Rage curdled inside him and he forced it to the side, finding and drawing on the light to pour healing into her broken hand.
“Who are you after that’s worth this?” Talking and healing at the same time was hard; the words came out on a grunt.
Mara’s lips pursed. Lifting her free hand, she tapped her throat and shook her head. Then she ran a finger along one of her tattoos and looked at him pointedly.
It took a moment for him to catch on. When he did, his blood ran cold. “You’re mute.”
Mara made an impatient gesture and extricated her hand from his.
Luke looked around for something to write with. There was nothing, of course; this was a slave’s cell.
Mara huffed, pointed to him, pointed to the door, then folded her arms over her chest. Her expression was cold, clearly saying what she did not have the ability to voice: Get out. I’m working.
Everything in him rebelled at the idea of leaving her here, battered and in pain. He wanted to reopen the bond between them, to get answers that way… but he knew that stance. That expression. He hadn’t seen either since Myrkr. This was Mara suffering and shut down. Whatever had happened, she was no longer the woman who’d had his back before Byss, the one who’d trusted him and learned to let down her guard in his presence. She was no longer the Mara he’d fallen in love with.
Or perhaps it was that he was different, now. Maybe that was why she’d rebuilt her walls against him. The idea seared through him, stealing his breath.
“Mara…” Tell me why you’re doing this, he wanted to say. But the words lodged in his throat, refusing to come out. Instead, he deliberately moved back in and took her hand again. Silently, his eyes fixed on her fingers, he finished healing them. Then he stepped back and, with a final look at her inscrutable expression, he vanished into the night.
Karrde wasn’t hard to find. He didn’t seem surprised by Luke’s visit, either.
“Sligg Dakketh has connections to Crimson Dawn,” he said, matter-of-factly, taking a thin cigarra out of a silver case and tapping it on the desk. “We believe he’s funneling slaves and illegal armaments into the Corporate Sector, putting the balance of power there at risk.”
“So you sent Mara?” Luke demanded. “Alone? Without her voice?!”
“Mara volunteered for the mission,” Talon returned icily, his blue eyes hard. “On the condition that she set her own terms. She arranged to be picked up with a shipment of Savarian captives, all of whom had their tongues or voiceboxes cut out for speaking out against Crimson Dawn. She was concerned about talking in her sleep and giving herself away, so my physicians temporarily suppressed her ability to speak.”
Luke thought of Wayland, of the tiny sounds of terror Mara had made while tossing and turning in her sleepsack as nightmares wracked her.
“This isn’t safe,” he argued. “You shouldn’t have let her do it.”
“Mara has always made her own choices,” Karrde said firmly, his mouth twisting in displeasure. “I’ve done what I can, but until she sends the signal for extraction, all I can do is wait and hope this little adventure allows her to work through whatever’s gotten into her.”
“When did it start?” Luke was afraid he already knew. “This… inclination toward risking herself like this?”
“Byss.”
It was two months before Luke saw Mara again.
He wasn’t supposed to be on the Errant Venture but there was a persistent rattle to the X-wing that shouldn’t have been there and the Force was pulling hard enough he half expected it to drag the fighter off-course on its own if he didn’t change destination himself. The instant he docked, he understood why: Mara’s headhunter was locked down two bays over.
“Artoo,” he ordered, digging in the X-wing’s tiny storage compartment for his worn carryall, “get the ship fixed and then stay put. I have some things to see to.”
In less than an hour, Luke secured a suite on Diamond Level under an alias. Taking a turn through the decadent shower, he dressed in the only set of clean civilian clothes he had with him and headed back out. Moments later he was prowling Trader’s Alley, stalking the familiar Force signature that, now unmuted, sang to him like a siren’s song.
He found her in the back of a tiny tapcaf, her back to the wall and a tall glass half-full of thin protein shake in front of her. The bruises on her face were gone, but her left wrist was wrapped tightly from her knuckles to halfway up her forearm. Her hair was back to its usual distinctive hue, the formerly choppy cut refined into stylish layers. A boxy jacket and baggy cargo pants hid the rest of her body, but Luke could feel a dull ache emanating from her as he approached.
“Skywalker.” Her voice was husky, enough that Luke guessed she’d only had it restored in the last few days.
“Mara. May I sit?”
She shrugged one shoulder and watched, cautiously, as Luke pulled out the other chair at her small table and settled into it.
“You got your man, I assume? Sligg something?”
“I always get the job done.” The words were firm, but she sounded tired. Exhausted.
“You usually employ better methods,” he prodded, finding himself still on the same note that had been playing in his head since he’d seen her last.
Mara said nothing, focusing on her drink instead as she took a slow sip.
“Why, Mara?” Luke leaned in. “Tell me why you let them hurt you like that. We both know you didn’t have to. You could have gotten what you needed a dozen other ways.”
When her eyes flicked back up to meet his, they were flinty — but behind that, for the first time, Luke saw a woundedness that made his breath catch.
“Is that how you think this works?” She snorted derisively. “Everyone in the galaxy but the cryptic, elusive Jedi Master has to answer questions?”
Luke frowned, but he wasn’t an idiot. He took the opening. “Fine. Ask me a question, then. Anything you want, and I’ll answer it honestly if you’ll do the same.”
Surprise rippled across Mara’s sense and her eyes searched his face, as if testing his truthfulness.
“Go ahead,” he goaded, folding his arms across his chest. “Ask me all the questions everyone wants to but doesn’t dare.”
Mara’s fingers tightened around her glass. “What did he tell you?”
Luke blinked. “What?”
Mara pulled her hands away from her glass and folded them together as best she could around the bandages. “Palpatine. He told you something that made you stop trusting me. I want to know what it was.”
Brow furrowing, Luke leaned closer. “What are you talking about? I never stopped trusting you.”
“Liar.” Mara shoved away from the table hard enough to make the glass rattle on the tabletop, anger and hurt flaring past her shields. “I should have known —”
Luke jumped to his feet and side-stepped, planting himself in her path, arms spread. “I’m not lying,” he said quietly, pouring all the earnestness he could into the Force. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I swear.”
“You cut me off!” Mara hissed, her good hand balling into a fist.
Luke’s heart sank, a horrible, nauseous feeling beginning to churn in his gut.
“I knew him better than anyone!” She railed. “I helped you fight C’baoth and Kun and Kyp. But you cut me off.” She waved at her chest, at the still-blocked bond between them. “You called for the others but gave orders not to let me within four systems —” Her voice cracked in a way he’d never heard it do before. “Tell me why.”
Ugly understanding gripped his bones and sent a tremor through Luke’s body that threatened to make his knees buckle. He dragged a hand down his face and swallowed the lump suddenly blocking his throat.
“Not here,” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Come with me.”
He felt her follow him through Trader’s Alley, the vibrant bustle a blur around them. His shaking hands fumbled his code at the lock on his door, taking two tries before it let him in, Mara on his heels.
Three steps into the room, he stripped off his jacket and tossed it blindly aside. Pivoting, he peeled off his shirt and undershirt, as well, aware as the cool air touched his skin that he hadn’t been this unclothed in front of another being since Byss.
Mara made an inarticulate sound and a rush of muddled feelings — rage and grief and self-recrimination — washed over Luke in the Force.
“I never stopped trusting you,” he blurted, holding out his arms, feeling flayed bare and exposed as she stepped forward, her fingers tracing the angry white spiderweb of new scars that covered his arms, chest, and back. “I just — I couldn’t let this cross the bond.” He ran his fingers up his arm, then tucked both his arms against his torso, self-conscious. “And before you say it, no, I didn’t cut Leia off. I didn’t have to. She… kept her own distance. And when she hesitated, Han made her.”
Unlike you, he didn’t say. He didn’t have to.
“And the physical debarment?” She asked roughly.
“The things he’d planned for you…” his voice caught. “…you were my anchor, Mara.” he admitted hoarsely. “I had to let him break me, and I wasn’t sure I would find my way back from that place.” He looked at her, certain that all his haunting fears were clear in his eyes. “But you did it — you rebuilt after he shattered your mind. If you were still here, whole and safe, then I told myself I could come back, too — that you could show me how. I couldn’t risk — I’m so sorry.” He closed his eyes, feeling sick. “I never imagined you’d blame yourself.”
There was the sound of movement and he dragged his eyes open in time to see Mara stagger sideways and drop onto the low lounger, her shoulders curling in and her chin dropping to her chest. Dark, ugly feelings and memories roiled around her, violent and sour.
“Why did you take that mission, Mara?” The words came out in a raw whisper, but Luke knew the answer before she gave it.
“When I heard that he was back, that he’d been reborn, I thought it was the Force handing me my trials. My one chance to stand up to my past and prove that I deserved to keep breathing. But when you shut me out — I was certain you’d discovered something horrible. That I was a sleeper agent, maybe. Or that there was some other compulsion lurking in my head, waiting to be triggered.”
Horror twisted his features. “You were going to let them kill you.”
“Them, or the next mission, or the next.” She shrugged one shoulder, staring sightlessly at the wall. “Better to go out on my own terms accomplishing something meaningful than to wait to lose my mind and force you to put me down.”
“I’m sorry,” Luke said again, passionately, moving to the lounger and sinking beside her. “I should have explained. I should have gone to you as soon as they let me out of the med center. I just — I didn’t know how to reopen the bond without hurting you. I didn’t realize I already was.”
Mara’s laugh was wretched, bitter and miserable. “Some pair we make.”
“We did,” he reminded her gently, coaxing her hand out of its tight ball. “Before. I’ve missed you,” he said, his heart aching. “And I still need you, Mara. I know it isn’t fair to ask, but I’m so lost, still.”
She was silent for a long moment. Luke held his breath, his thumb brushing back and forth over her skin gently while she struggled with herself.
“All right,” she said finally, barely louder than a whisper.
“All right?”
“Reopen it. The bond. But only if you promise not to shut me out again. Not like that. I can’t.”
Hope and relief exploded inside him and Luke leaned in, his mouth capturing hers. The kiss grew hungrier and greedier as Mara responded, her fingers digging into his hair, demanding more.
Pulling her to him, Luke held her tightly, his mind tearing at the barriers he’d made around the bond as his hands tore at her clothing. Rolling her body beneath his, he breached the first wall between them the same time his fingers pushed inside her wet heat. Mara mewled and Luke worked her, drawing more slick from her body as he pulled down more barriers. He pushed inside her as he broke the last one, then went still, both of them panting from the intensity as their minds collided, tempestuous and raw before finding their level.
The pace slowed then, and they fucked each other steadily through the memories and pain, the tide gradually turning toward pleasure as the bitterness and poison of fear and misunderstanding leached out. Eventually, they crested together, then lay intertwined on the lounger, sweat cooling on their bodies, reassurance and calm sinking in with soothing weight.
“Stay with me,” Luke murmured against her hair. “We can take a leave of absence, just go somewhere for a while. I need —”
“Yes,” Mara whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “Yes.”
Hazy images of a lush, wind-swept coast filtered across from her mind and Luke sighed, easing toward sleep that promised real rest for the first time since before Byss. With Mara beside him, guiding him, he could finally heal. He could do the work his father had avoided and reclaim what the Emperor had stolen — not for a few agonizing moments, but for the rest of his life. Taking one more breath, he surrendered, confident that his future was once again in motion and taking him toward a life worth fighting and surviving for.