A/N: I was browsing the internet one day when I saw someone mention the scars that Luke must have after suffering the Emperor's wrath. So I started writing. And then it evolved into much more than that. Hopefully, it's enjoyable!
Also, this is the first time I've ever written Mara Jade. It's been ages since I've read any of the EU/Legends books with her in it, so hopefully she isn't too ooc! If she is, please let me know!
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. It is the property of Lucasfilm and Disney.
Luke had spent every day of his youth gathering enough water in order to get through the next, and it had left him with a thirst that was unquenchable. He always carried water with him in one form or another; he carried bottles with him into short briefings and often would spend hours staring at fountains. No one teased him about it anymore, and he was thankful for that. Helping in the destruction of an oppressive Empire landed him some respect. But it was out of respect for him as a leader and a Jedi that they quit, and not out of any understanding. He knew it was a trivial fear; it had been years since he last went without water, but knowing didn't change anything. Without it, he felt as if his skin was crawling, cracking, peeling under an intense heat that wasn't there.
It had taken him a few days after the Battle of Yavin to take his first full shower.
Now, though, he couldn't get enough. Gone were the days of hoarding the precious commodity. Tonight was no different. He let the warm water beat against his skin, letting the wetness fill his soul. Would they never run out of water? Would it continuously fall, never wavering, never threatening to hold back its bounty? He was too wrapped up in enjoying this simple pleasure to completely worry about the stockpile of liquid on the ship.
A sharp rap at the door broke his concentration. "Luke, you're not the only one on this ship who needs to shower. You'd better hurry and quit wasting water."
Luke winced at her words. Mara didn't understand what the gravity of wasting water was to him. Or maybe she did, and that's why she worded it that way. It didn't matter, though, she was right; he had been in here long enough. He shut the water off and stepped out of shower and onto the cool durasteel floor. It seemed that no matter how hot he let the water get, the floors were always cool to the touch. There was no oppressive fog in the room either. He dried off and pulled on his uniform. Next time he would need to remember to pack sleep wear. Peering through the door, Luke checked for any sign of Mara. She wasn't waiting outside the door, ready to reprimand him for taking so long, so he grabbed his things and quietly went to his quarters.
Mara's 'guest room' was barely bigger than the fresher, but it had three walls and a door and a bed, so he didn't mind. He tucked away his clothes and laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was too cold in the room, and he shivered involuntarily. Mara had explained to him that he was allowed to turn the heating up in his room, just as long as he remembered to change it back when he left. Luke gently motioned towards the control panel with two fingers, using the force to turn the dial up, and the temperature followed.
Once it was warm enough to his standards, he tugged off his shirt and tossed it to the chair that stood opposite the bed, and breathed deeply. He hated Tatooine, but he's been unable to shake the sleeping habits of someone who lived his whole life in a desert.
His eyes closed and he inhaled, holding his breath for ten counts, and then slowly released it. The force flowed through him, calmed his anxieties and he let himself drift to sleep.
When he awoke, his internal clock informed him he'd only been sleeping for about an hour. One eye opened, and he saw Mara sitting on the chair across from him, legs crossed, elbow on her knee, and resting her chin in her palm.
"Mara, what're you doing?" he asked, sitting up and facing her.
"I wanted to see what it looked like to have a nightmare." Her voice held no tone of flippancy, and she straightened in the chair.
"What makes you think I was having a nightmare?"
Mara cocked him a smile, but didn't answer. Instead, she motioned to his chest. "Where'd you get those?"
He refused to look at the scars that refused to heal. "Lost a battle with a power outlet."
"Hmm." She cocked her head a moment and caught his gaze. He knew this was a dare, so he refused to break contact. Mara smiled and leaned forward. "Lying doesn't become you, farm boy."
Luke grimaced, and refused to answer. Some things were his, and his alone. She eyed him a moment more before she pulled herself up from the chair and moved to the door. It swooshed open and she took a step out before turning and facing Luke. He raised his eyebrows at her, wondering if she'd had the guts to actually speak.
Instead, she pulled up her own shirt, just a little, but it was enough to see marks identical to his crawling up her side. "It was my first mission, and I failed to retrieve important data." She chuckled. "Lost my own battle with a power outlet."
Her face turned passive and she dropped her shirt, smoothing it out. "So, you're not alone, Skywalker." And then she left.
The door closed behind her, and Luke clenched his teeth before laying back down. He ran his hand over one of the scars, reminiscent of a lightning storm over Yavin IV, and thought about Mara's choice of words. He never felt like he was alone before. Scars healed, and people moved on. He stared at the door, and suddenly it hit him: he wasn't the one who felt alone.