Smoke curled around their heads in lazy halos, and the not-unpleasant smell of spice and frying food wafted through the air. Mara leaned against the bar, took a sip of her ale, and surveyed their surroundings as she listened to her crewmates propose a drinking contest that would almost certainly end in disaster.
"Hey, Mara," says Ghent, who'd had a quarter of a lomin and was swaying unsteadily. "Isn't that Skywalker?"
Out of reflex she blunted her presence in the Force. Yep. Skywalker. Unshaven, bags under his eyes, slumped over a heavy wooden table in the dark, back corner of the cantina. No wonder he hadn't been recognized. He looked as though he hadn't slept since Byss.
"You gonna go talk to him, Mara?"
And say what? I hate you, you kriffing traitor? You're a Force-forsaken Son-of-a-Sith hypocrite and I never want to see you again?
Why didn't you ask for my –help-, you idiot?
"You're drunk, Ghent," she says, downing the rest of her drink. "That's not Skywalker."
Rain tore through the leaves of Yavin's trees, splattering to the ground below, almost drowning out the echoing morning cries of a group of woolamanders nestled in the nearby jungle. Mara's fingers idly traced patterns on the cool metal of Anakin Skywalker's lightsaber, carefully schooling her expression into a passive one as she regarded his crestfallen son.
"You're just – just leaving?"
Or what? Stay and watch you crash? No thanks, Skywalker. Someone's got to be clear of the rubble to pull you out.
"Get back inside, Skywalker. You're going to drown yourself out here."
Mara pulled a hood over her head and ducked inside the Jade's Fire.
"Skywalker," Mara said gently. "If you don't come out of there, I'm going to have to break the door down. "
Four days. Four days, in which Luke Skywalker had ventured from his Coruscant apartment for nothing or no one despite proddings, summons, and concerned inquiries from a very impressive list of people.
He answers the door in sleep pants and a wrinkled tunic, eyes red-rimmed.
"You know, your students are probably going to storm this place if they don't hear from you soon."
"I don't want to talk to them."
He turns and pads back into the apartment on bare feet, leaving the door open behind him.
She wasn't good enough for you. She was clingy and obnoxious and her ridiculous man-voice made me want to scream. She only cared about you because you're a Jedi, not because you're you, Farmboy.
"Well," she said, taking in his disaster-area apartment, which is rapidly beginning to smell of tomo-spiced ribenes. "I brought takeout."
"Mara?"
She was leaning against a pillar on Leia's Coruscant balcony, staring out at people and lights and life, mouth twitching up in a smile as she listened to the noises inside the apartment. Soft conversation, bickering children, fussing, beeping droids. It was the sound of a family, altogether new to Mara's ears.
"I'm here."
Luke slid his arm around her easily. He spent a few minutes looking out over the cityscape with her, before leaning down and nudging her forehead with his.
"I can feel you thinking, you know. Credit for your thoughts?"
He would have stolen them, once. Funny how she gives them freely now that he's willing to ask.
"Just," she started, tilting her head. "That I was so willing to dole out criticism back there, that I ought to be able to see my own part in this whole mess."
"You mean besides making me fall madly in love with you?"
His grin was infectious, and she shared it before he dipped his head down for a kiss.
"You're a sap," she said fondly, after he pulled away. "No, I was just thinking that not having that conversation sooner was my first mistake."
It really is embarrassing how long I've been in love with you. Idiot.
Your idiot, though.
"The important thing is that you had it," he said aloud, flashing her a smile. "Now come on. Your family's waiting."