Title: The Last… Waltz? (Well, it's either that or the rather unflattering "Untitled")
Date: 31st May 2007
Author: Jon C. (The Lurking Writer)
Disclaimer: The words are mine. The characters and the setting, however much I wish they were, are not. All hail the Great God Zahn for creating Coruscant and for bringing Mara Jade to our attention. And thanks, too, Oh Flannel-Shirted One, for letting us play in your sandbox.
Rating: K / K+ (No Warnings – Spoilers only for everything up to The Last Command)
Summary: Luke & Mara, traitorous eyes, distant memories, and visions of the near-future…
Author's Note: After reading a couple of stories set in this time-period, this little drabble entered my mind almost exactly as it appears here. I did at one point want to have this as the starting point for a longer story but as so often happens, I couldn't find the time to sit down and plan it out. So, this is what I'm left with. If anyone's got ideas on how to improve this / turn it into a proper fic, please let me know. Constructive Criticism is much appreciated.
The Last… Waltz?
Luke and Mara stepped into the Grand Hall of the Imperial Palace, managing to avoid a fanfare for their arrival by a simple gesture of Luke's left hand. Mara, overcome with an unexpected and only half-unwelcome sense of nostalgia at the room's contents, didn't notice the Jedi's casual use of the Force.
"I've never felt comfortable at events like this," Luke whispered to his beautiful companion—and beautiful she most certainly was, Luke quietly admitted to himself. Mara had parted from him shortly after leaving the roof of the Palace and returned to him an image that left him speechless and desperately trying to trample down some decidedly non-Jedi-like thoughts.
She had slipped into a formal gown (coloured a blue as deep and dark as the galaxy was vast), which hugged her figure tightly; its cut was fairly conservative, showing little of her alabaster skin, but the shapely curves held within its clutches were more than visible to Luke's traitorously roaming eyes. Mara's vibrant red-gold hair had been pulled up into a deceptively complex chignon that left a few delicate strands to curl and gently frame her face. Most disarming of all, perhaps, was the way she carried herself—like an enchantress, Luke privately thought—and the way her emerald eyes glinted brightly as they wandered over the sea of faces surrounding them.
"How are you feeling?" Luke asked her once they'd gotten past the initial impressions of the elaborate celebration the New Republic government was hosting, and began to make their way towards a long table arranged along one complete length of the room. He hadn't realised it was the buffet table until Mara had scoffed under her breath about 'always thinking with his stomach'. She was somewhat mollified by the vast selection on offer and remained quiet for a few moments, trying to compose a suitable response that wasn't merely a dismissal of the question and the man who'd asked it.
"It's… it feels strange to be in this room again, Skywalker. I've spent so many evenings in here on the Emperor's wishes but this is the first time I've come here because I wanted to."
"I understand, Mara. If it's too much, we can always leave…"
Mara stopped him with a faint smirk and a slight shake of her head.
"I'm okay, Skywalker. I said I want to be here. If I'm to be working here for a while then I've got to get used to feelings like this." She tucked an errant curl behind her ear as she moved further along the table, sampling some of the more familiar (and lighter) dishes on offer.
Someone impolitely nudged Luke's back before he could move with her and a scowl formed on his face but was quickly squashed as he opened himself to the Force and let the spike of anger at the distraction fade away.
Mara hadn't noticed—she'd turned towards the massive dance floor and was swaying slowly in time with the sweeping music, her eyes half-closed, humming softly. It was obvious she was lost in one of the few pleasant memories she had of her past. Luke observed her and found himself mesmerised. As the music changed, he felt a whisper of the Force tickling his senses. Overcome with an irrational desire, he tentatively brought his hand to lightly touch against her arm.
"Would you care to dance with me, Mara?" Luke asked her quietly—the music had transformed into the beginnings of an Alderaanian Waltz that Leia had taught him a couple of years ago, shortly after Coruscant had been liberated from the Empire. It was one of his favourites.
Surprised by his forthrightness, both the physical contact and the request, Mara could only nod and attempt to keep up with the Jedi as he steered them both towards the dance floor and the other couples swirling around in a myriad display of fashion and… elation, she finally realised.
Holding her as close as he dared—their new-found friendship was still so fresh and fragile he wanted to protect it with all his might—Luke released the last of his earlier irritation into the Force and a smile lit his sky-blue eyes.
Maybe he would enjoy this, after all…
—Finis—
(I think)