They'd met in a Coruscanti tapcaf, while he was between smuggling runs and she was out with her girlfriends from work. The Republic was about to fall around all their heads, in less than a year, but no-one knew this yet, and would either of these young people had cared if they had known? He was a petty criminal anyway, and she a waitress – they could keep up these professions regardless of who was in power. They ended up at the opulent home of one of her friends' new squeezes, a rich prat keen to show off his parents' wealth to impress the gaggle of girls. But this particular young woman was already impressed by another – he with the long, thick, darkish hair, whom she'd been dancing with all night. They disappeared to the master bedroom together when everyone else was busy drinking and dancing on the apartment's lower level.

"Tell me your name again. It's so… manly," she murmured as she scrambled atop him.

"Talon," he whispered hoarsely in her ear, tugging at her dress.

"Mmm, soooo sexy. Even if it's not your real name."

"It truly is, dollface. And you still haven't told me yours."

She kneeled naked above him. "I don't think my name matters anymore, baby."

"Yeah, maybe you're right…"

Kriff. Kriff, kriff, kriff! No!

She hurled the blue strip across the 'fresher floor. It skidded out of the open door and onto the thin hall carpet, upturned, lest she forget what those blue lines meant.

She put her face in her hands. There was only one option: give the damn thing away, when it arrived. She'd never been close to her parents, had left home as soon as she was old enough, and barely kept in touch with them, so she knew what would happen if she returned to them with the words, Yeah, sorry, I messed up, just like you always thought I would. The father? Haven't a clue. Said his name was Talon. Yes, Daddy, you heard right, Talon. Haven't seen him since that night. Well done, me.

She'd just keep her head low, wear baggy shirts, and book herself in to get it delivered, rather than waiting for labour, which sounded awful. Then, forget the whole sorry business ever happened.

"Your baby'll go to a good home, dearie, don't you worry," the nurse-droid soothed. In the most soothing tones a damn machine could manage, anyway. "To a Senator, a very important one. Poor dear has no wife, but always wanted children. He'll be here for the child soon."

She stared blankly at the wriggling, hours-old baby in the cot. It had the red hair she'd been so relieved to not have inherited from her own mother. She hadn't wanted to know the gender, or anything about it, really. But the nurses – human and droid alike – had insisted she at least see it before they discharged her.

She took a last quick appraisal of the infant, then pulled on her coat, picked up her purse, and headed home; she had a ten-hour shift the next day, and she was determined to turn up looking and feeling as normal as possible.

Neither she nor anyone else – her friends, her boss, her regular customers – could have foreseen the blood clot that would throw her entire body into shock, causing her to fall to the ground in the middle of the restaurant she'd happily thrown her life into these past few years. And because not one of them had the foggiest notion of what she'd been so skilfully hiding from them for months, they had no idea how to help her, or what was causing the agonised, horizontal death-dance on the tiles she herself had scrubbed that morning.

"What skills do you have?"

"I can pilot anything you've got, operate any weapon, and I'm organised and disciplined."

"Good. How are your table manners?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I expect my staff to behave well at table. Smugglers we may be, but we're not savages."

"Well, I've been to my fair share of dinner parties and not embarrassed myself thus far."

"Glad to hear it." Talon Karrde looked up from the glass of wine he was pouring, and once again met the bright green eyes of the young woman sitting opposite. "How does such a young one acquire all these talents?"

She almost didn't flinch. Good – at least she was actually human. "I had a… different childhood to most people."

"Ah." He didn't press her. Patience was one of his most treasured characteristics. He passed her a full glass, poured one for himself, and clinked his against hers. "Welcome to my team, Mara Jade."

It had been a beautiful wedding – not as understated as the couple themselves had initially wanted, but not as over-the-top as the chief bridesmaid had envisioned. But when the Chief of State of the New Republic was said chief bridesmaid, and your wedding guests included Jedi, senators, and ex-smugglers… well, it was always going to be interesting.

A new song played, and the newlyweds somehow managed to break their gazes from each other, for the first time since Karrde had begun walking the bride up the aisle. Kids in love, they really were. Even though Mara was a grown woman now. Hell, she'd been a grown woman when she joined his business a decade ago, but still. He'd always seen her as a daughter, and to 'give her away' today had actually brought tears to his eyes. At least no-one had noticed.

Luke Skywalker held his hand out to the giddy, over-excited, slightly drunk bridesmaid – his sister, Leia –, and she bounced away from Han Solo into her brother's grasp, laughing loudly. Mara turned from them, looking towards Karrde, giggling. It was wonderful to see her so happy. She held out her own hand.

"Come and dance with me?"

"Of course, my dear." Karrde found himself hugging Mara close to him, moving slowly with her as everyone else around them danced more vigorously to the first fast song of the evening. The pair savoured the moment together. Then, a whispered, "Karrde?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"Mara, you've just married another man. Give him a try, at least." He was trying to be humorous, but she looked so hurt that he instantly regretted his words. He hugged her. "I'm sorry, kid, I'm sorry."

She bit her lip. "I mean it, Karrde. You're the closest figure to a father I ever had. I'll always need you around."

"The feeling's mutual, kid."

"And who's that?"

"Unc' Han."

"What a clever baby you are. One more… whoooo's… that?"

"Dada."

"Yes, that's your dada. Yaaaay!"

Ben Skywalker shrieked joyously as his mother, abandoning the pile of old holos, pressed her mouth to his chubby little stomach and blew hard against it. Luke watched them from the doorway, laughing along with them. "Right, you two, the holos need to go away." He scooped up his son. "You're going to stay with Jaina and Jacen."

"And Th'eepio!"

"Yes, and Threepio." Luke raised his eyebrows at his wife. "At least someone likes Threepio best, huh?"

Mara smiled, and began picking up the holos she'd scattered. Luke felt the pain that suddenly jolted his wife as she stopped and stared at one, her fingers on her lips. He stepped forward, to comfort her, but his comm beeped. He glanced down.

"It's Tionne," he said. "Sorry, my love, I need to take this."

Mara blinked free from her musings. "Oh. Of course." She took Ben back, kissing the top of his head and breathing in the smell of his freshly-bathed little body, as Luke headed out the doorway and spoke into his comm. Ben gazed up at her, as purely and utterly besotted by her as she was by him. Enjoy it while it lasts, Han had teased her, but Leia and Mirax had assured her – or, rather, warned her? – that boys always really belonged to their mothers.

"Mama," he said, quite simply.

"I'm here, baby." She realised she was still holding the holo of her and Karrde, clowning around on board the Jade's Fire when she'd had its 'launch party'- they wore matching party hats and held glasses of Whyren's Reserve. What a great night that had been.

What a great man Karrde had been. It would be six months tomorrow, since Shada had tearfully messaged them all to say that Karrde had had a heart attack in his sleep. It had been peaceful, yes, but horribly premature. They all missed him.

"Mama," Ben said again. She looked at him, wondering why he needed her.

"What is it, Skycrawler?"

Ben's little fingers grabbed at the holo. "Mama an'…"

"Uh-huh, Mama and…?"

"Gampa."

Mara stared at her son. "What, baby?" By now, Luke had returned to the room, and had also heard his son's babbling. He and Mara looked at one another.

"No, no, baby, that's Karrde. Can you say 'Karrde'?"

"Gampa."

Of course, it sounded like Grandpa, but there was no way Ben could know that word – he didn't have, never would have, any living grandparents. Mara looked at the picture again.

"Ah, wait a minute. Booster Terrik's in the background." She turned it, to show her husband. "He must've heard Valin and Jysella calling him 'Grandpa'."

Luke smiled. "That'll be it." And with that, the Skywalker family left – Luke and Mara to attend a function, Ben to be fussed over by his cousins –, and the holo of Karrde and Mara remained upturned on the table.