A Series of Random Statements Covering All Possible Angles of this Story:

Mildly AU, since I don't think the characterization of Mara Jade is quite right. She's too philosophical, and not sarcastic enough.

I can't promise accurate characterization; all I can promise is my usual ridiculously elaborate prose style, excessive use of archetypal motifs, and hopefully a good plot.

K+ for Star Wars-esque violence.

Star Wars belongs to Disney, and Mara Jade belongs to Timothy Zahn.

Read and review (Hopefully positive, but constructive criticism is welcomed as long as it's tactful.)

Cataract

Prologue:

Sith and Jedi divide the Force into light and dark.

I can imagine them, diplomatically sitting in a well-lit room. They would cluster around one of those awkwardly long tables meant to intimidate your enemy. (Personally, I think that if your method of fear-mongering is a table, your enemies have nothing to worry about.) The sleekness of the table and the distance it places between the two groups serves to hide their mutual eagerness and jointly hunched postures. The two groups, amoebas of tan and black rounding out the spectrum of the metallic silver table, pore over a map stretching across the expanse. Politely, they place small markers on the map, parceling out the Force.

Fear? Oh, that's Dark.

Love? Oh, that's Light.

Unless love turns into attachment, and fear can also be for a loved one's life….

Here, like practiced politicians, they throw their hands up in despair. By nodded consent from both groups, one Jedi draws a battered grey poker chip out of his cloak. "Many of the truths we cling to depend greatly upon our own point of view," he mutters, and passes it to a Sith. The Sith acquiesces: "It all depends upon your definition of good," and slides the chip into the middle of the map.

The Grey Areas. Wild Space. "Here be Dragons," the weary mapmakers cry. The unexplored regions, the outer limits of the Force…and yet those so central to our own hearts.

Reality shifted its fabric, pulling me back into itself. Our ship had just exited hyperspace, yet Imperial Center was not yet in view. So I gazed upon the shifting stars, tiny holes that emit their allure through a deep, dark curtain.

Some have called me an inhabitant of those grey areas of the Force. As I travel through an expanse of white and black, I wouldn't entirely disagree with them.