So, I've finished the Thrawn Trilogy and have really fallen for Mara Jade/Luke. However, I don't have the patience to read umpteen books before I can finally see them together. Also, ten years? Seriously? Seems a bit mean to keep them apart for that long. So, I decided to have a little AU short cut. Looking around here, it doesn't seem an unusual project…

Can't Abide His Virtue

Mara felt him long before he arrived at the door. With a smirk on her lips, she prepared to greet Skywalker in the style he was accustomed to – from her. She'd been on Coruscant four whole days, and she was going to make sure to upbraid him for not coming to her earlier. However, when the door opened, it wasn't Skywalker who came in, but Leia Organa Solo.

"Mara." She held out her hand. "It's good to see you. I hear Karrde has left you stranded?"

"Just a delay in the pick-up. He should be here in a fortnight. I have enough to do to keep me busy, lots of logistic stuff to sort out. No idea why they insisted on quartering me here; I could have easily gone to a hotel."

"Oh, no, you absolutely belong here with us."

"I do?" Mara felt that Leia was playing the you-are-one-of-us-now card a little too frequently.

"Oh, yes! And I have to apologise for neglecting you; things have been so busy…" Leia launched into a lengthy tale of general duties and special tasks, council meetings, diplomatic assignments and teething toddlers.

"You can allow him to see me, you know," interrupted Mara eventually. "I'm over this wanting-to-kill-him phase."

Leia gave a brittle smile. "Luke's not here. He's been on Yavin for the last five months and I don't know that he has any plans for coming to Coruscant in the near future."

So he wasn't even here. Not that she cared. Maybe Leia would tell her later what he was up to on Yavin.

"You must be bored and lonely here," Leia continued. "Come and have dinner with us tomorrow."

Having dinner with the Solos wasn't exactly on top of her bucket list, but she was bored and she had no real reason to be rude to Leia.

"I guess I could."

"Let's say six? You can see the twins before they go to bed." With the unerring instinct of mothers everywhere, Leia knew that everyone was desperate to see her twins.

Who, as it turned out, were not as annoying as Mara had expected. They were old enough to have hair on their heads and control over their limbs and they were not crying, screaming or even whining. Instead they sat snuggled together on a mat and blithely babbled to each other in a game involving soft, colourful cubes. In fact, the worst thing about them was probably the persistent looks of pride on their parents' faces.

Fortunately, Leia's white-haired aide took the children away for a bath soon, and something like rational expressions returned to Mr and Princess Solo's faces as they sat down for their meal. The food was good, the wine Corellian, the conversation – well, if it wasn't exactly sparkling, then at least there were no signs of animosity. While Mara related some inoffensive anecdotes from smuggling life, Han and Leia kept the happy couple routine to a minimum and Winter contributed the occasional general remark to smooth over awkward pauses. It could have been worse.

Later, as they sat on a semi-circular couch with their drinks, Mara spotted among the holographs on the wall one of a younger Skywalker, wearing a yellow jacket over a black shirt and some sort of medal round his neck. Her eyes kept straying back to it. Idealism beamed from his face even more there than it did nowadays. This must have been after the Battle of Yavin, when the farmboy Skywalker was catapulted to sudden fame. He had entered the galactic stage, as the picture showed, full of optimism and naïve goodwill. Mara Jade, at that age, had already learned to harden her heart and live on a diet of callousness and cynicism.

She returned to her suite that night in a touchy mood, dissatisfied with herself and everything else. The bedroom struck her as old-fashioned and corny, the view from her window insipid. She told herself that if it hadn't been for Skywalker, she would still be living in her own apartment with the whole palace staff at her beck and call. But the thought seemed hollow and unconvincing. Another way of looking at it, and one which she had to admit had at least as much merit, was that she was welcome and respected in the New Republic because of Skywalker. The Solos has helped, of course, but it was Luke who had convinced the Council that she could be trusted as an ally. He had been so unfailingly fair to her, no, more than fair: generous, right from the start. She, on the other hand, had repaid him with spite and snide remarks. Well, and saved his life a few times, against her own inclination. Did that make them quits?

oOoOo

A week later, Mara was skimming the news bulletins when she sensed a Jedi presence approach in the corridor. She released the door switch.

"Hello, Leia," she said without looking up from her data pad.

"Mara," replied a male voice. This time, she had been fooled the other way round.

"Skywalker." She made her voice sound indifferent. "What brings you here?"

"I arrived yesterday morning." So he hadn't exactly rushed to come to her. "I thought I'd surprise Han and Leia, be here for the twins' birthday. It was a good party."

Of course. Leia had mentioned the other night that the twins were very nearly two.

"And today you had business?"

"Not much in the way of business. I was trying to be a good uncle all morning, and this afternoon I visited Wedge in the medical wing. You may have heard, he had a bit of an accident."

"Well, aren't you sweet, ministering to the sick and dying."

"He's not dying; he's actually recovering very well."

She hadn't invited him to sit, and he was too polite to just grab a chair, so he simply stood there.

"Anyway, how are you, Mara?" She felt his concern reaching out like a gentle, warm breeze. The Jedi master's universal benevolence of which poor Mara was a lowly recipient. After his niece and nephew and his injured friend, it was finally her turn. Not that she had any right to preferential treatment.

"Why should you care?" she snapped.

He looked puzzled. "Why ever shouldn't I care?"

"Hah!" Mare flung the data pad aside, strode up to him and jabbed her finger into his chest. "I wanted to kill you. Have you forgotten that?"

"Of course not. But you didn't kill me, and I don't think you ever will now." He met her glare with a look of calm composure. "Surely you know that I bear no grudges."

"No, you take the moral high ground, as always," she scoffed.

"I am not trying to make you feel small."

"No, no, I concede it freely. You are a better person than anyone I've ever known, Skywalker, I give you that. The paragon of virtue! Which makes it kind of a pressing question why you should bother with me at all, doesn't it?"

"Look, Mara, you don't owe me anything. No explanations, no apologies, no gratitude –"

"Gratitude? You mean for your magnanimous acceptance of my unsavoury past? Damn right, I don't."

"That's what I said." Infuriatingly, Luke continued to radiate unruffled serenity. "Why are you getting so angry?"

Mara realised that her hand was still resting on his chest. With an exasperated sigh, she pulled it away. "It's you that makes me angry, Skywalker. I don't want your condescension or your dutiful kindness."

"What do you want, Mara?"

She took a deep breath. Well, she had provoked this confrontation, so she might as well tell him. "I want to know what you really think of me."

His eyes widened. "You mean you don't know?"

"How would I know? I don't poke around in your mind."

"Well, you shall know."

He placed his hands on her shoulders and peered at her earnestly. Then she felt him reaching out to her with the Force, opening his mind to her. The wave of warmth and tenderness nearly drowned her. She staggered.

"So much?" she whispered. "So much…"

Luke's hands steadied her. His eyes had not left her face. "There," he said. "Now you know."

Mara struggled to keep her breath even. How could she respond to this, this revelation that wildly exceeded all those hopes which she hadn't admitted to herself in the first place?

"Mara," Luke said. "I'll do whatever you want. I'll be your lover, or your husband, or your friend. Or I'll walk away and make sure never to cross your path again. You choose."

In the silence, Mara saw the futures he was offering. She saw herself beloved, cherished, held close to his heart for all the years to come. Saw the children they might have, the old age of contented companionship. Saw the tenderness, the intimacy, the joy. And she wanted it, wanted it more than anything else in the galaxy. She could see it right in front of her, Luke Skywalker, shining beacon of virtue, and Mara Jade, a sorry mess of muddled loyalties. Against all odds, he loved her, loved her so much –

"Get out!" she hissed.

Slowly, Luke released her shoulders and took a step back. Pain and anguish seized her as he turned and walked out the door; she couldn't tell how much of the hurt was his and how much her own. With an indifferent hum, the door closed behind him and she was alone. She cursed and kicked the wall.

She was not going to cry. It was absolutely better this way, better for her to keep her independence and certainly better for Luke not to be entangled with a woman who carried so much baggage. There was no point in crying. She had done them both a favour. And any day now Karrde would come to pick her up and after that she would make sure to stay away from Coruscant and Yavin and any other place where Luke Skywalker might be encountered.

There was no way she was going to concentrate on the news bulletin, though. She lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling, replaying the whole scene in her mind over and over. You choose. Get out. You choose. Get out.

An hour or maybe two passed. Still she felt his hurt like the cry of some wounded animal. And then it struck her that she had looked at it all from the wrong angle entirely. Because the question was not whether she deserved a man of such virtue. The question was whether a man of such virtue deserved happiness – a thing which was, amazingly, hers to give. She sat up.

The sense of his hurt remained strong; he was not yet off-planet, though he very soon might be.

Luke, she called in her mind. Stay where you are.

There was no reply. She drew all her mental strength together and called him again. Stay where you are, Luke. This time, he answered, with just a hint of bitterness. Don't worry, I wasn't coming back.

Stay, she urged. Where are you?

Rooftop.

Rooftop – where there was a pleasure garden, but also a landing pad. Or where a desperately disappointed man might decide to give in to gravity…

Stay! I'm coming.

She raced to the elevator. The guest suites where high up in the palace, but still she had seven stories to go. She prowled the narrow cabin like a trapped panther, wringing her hands. When the door finally opened, she scanned the rooftop. An avenue of potted trees glowed softly in the fading sunlight. At the far end, the landing pad lay empty. And Luke – she reached out and felt his presence somewhere to the left. He must have heard her, or sensed her, in any case she saw him stepping out from behind a topiary about fifty yards away. She began to jog. By the time she could see his face clearly, she was running at full tilt.

"Luke!" Luke, Luke, Luke…

She was still gathering speed and would have knocked him over had he not caught her in a Force embrace and gently brought her to a standstill a couple of feet in front of him. Up close like this, the sense of his hurt felt overwhelming, but she picked up a flicker of something else, too. Hope.

"Luke." She stepped forward and closed the gap between them. "Luke, I have chosen."

And as he gazed at her, apprehensive and uncertain, she opened her mind to him and all the love that she had denied and fought and hidden flowed out to him, filling his eyes with wonder.

"Luke, I choose you."

She felt the last of his hurt drain away while the flicker of hope blossomed into a vigorous flame. And then they finally met, arms, lips, minds entwined and she knew, there was nothing better than his goodness and nothing truer than his faith in her, against all odds.