A/N: Yes, this is a rehash of an old story. Yes, this one aspires to be
better than that old story—hopefully, it is!
After having lived in Coruscant for the majority of her adult life, Mara Jade automatically felt at home in most parts of that huge city-planet—but, she had to admit, not all. Like any other large city, it had its decrepit underbelly. She had a long relationship with this part of the metropolis—one that stretched back to some of her earliest memories.
But that was hardly an asset anymore. That past may well have been the life of an entirely different person—at least, it often felt like that anymore. Mara did not remember what it was like to be self-conscious in a place like this; a booth in some sleazy bar on Coruscant's lowest level. She looked to fit in enough—she'd kept her familiarity with disguise up over the years, and she was dressed poorly enough not to suggest any ties with the New Republic's higher offices.
After all, her skills notwithstanding, she didn't want to be a target for muggers. After all, once they provoked her to fighting—well, that would certainly draw unsolicited attention towards her—and to Luke, whom she'd brought along for the occasion.
Not that he didn't have reasons of his own for coming. Mara had heard the story once before, when something in their conversation provoked them to discuss the Empire's diamond plated missiles that they'd begun using shortly after the Battle of Hoth. Evidently, Luke had an apology to make; one that he'd nearly forgotten about over the years. After all, you can't apologize to the dead.
It was all rather funny, though, in a quasi-morbid way. The person the Skywallkers had come to meet tonight was not dead, but they had each once thought him so, for considerably different reasons. Luke had thought he'd seen him die, back when he'd assassinated Prince Xizor and wiped out Black Sun with one well-placed missile. And Mara—well, she'd always known her parents were dead, but she'd never really thought about the rest of her family. Unlike Luke, she didn't seem to have any sort of long-lost twin—honestly, that sort of thing was hardly common, and hardly likely. Coincidences were unlikely enough; coincidences in pairs were nearly impossible.
Still, apparently, it had happened—or so it seemed. The path leading to today's meeting had been a strange one. Strange because , once more, it seemed so unlikely that two people who were incessantly working in the same basic arena of intra-galactic warfare could miss a direct, face-to-face meeting so many times. Of course, Mara had reasoned , it probably had something to do with the fact that the other person in question was presumed dead since just before she met Luke in Jabba's palace..
Honestly, that was quite a long time ago—and Mara was uncertain whether it was in her best interests to dig up that distant past. She had come to terms with it, and with the blood on her hands—must she also come to terms with the blood in her veins?
Jade had always seemed a good enough name for her. She knew it wasn't really her own—she knew that she had no real link with any other 'Jade's in the galaxy, and, somehow, that had been a comforting thought. Of course, taking on the Skywalkers' name had been a bit intimidating—there were millions of associations, both personal and public, to go with that name, and some of them were rather troubling to her.
But this new name—Rendar—was another matter altogether. The Rendars were not a type of person that Mara would have felt at home with—quite rich Corellians, self-made aristocrats—arrogant, super-affluent hotshots whose eldest son, Stanton, had crashed into one of the Emperor's favorite private museums a few years back. The 'accident' had been considered treason, and all of the Rendars were immediately banished from their beloved home planet, and all the rest of the Empire.
Mara remembered Stanton, though vaguely. She remembered his crash a little better. There was a reason why, but now, knowing what she knew, she didn't feel like remembering it. Truthfully, she was ashamed to. And a little frightened to, as well. What if the whole story had been created for the sole purpose of luring her here so that Stanton's kid brother could finally have his shot at revenge?
Mara furrowed her brow with worry. "I shouldn't have come. The records he sent me were probably forged. I bet this man intends to kill me for what've done."
Luke raised an eyebrow. "And you're afraid?"
"Not really. But I'd feel bad killing him, having—"Mara cut of her words as she saw Luke look beyond her, to the bar's entrance. She slowly turned to follow his gaze, keeping focused in case imminent defense on her part was required.
As she eyed the man coming in casually through the entryway, she instantly realized that her fears were not ungrounded. The man had a blaster in a hip holster, a knife strapped to the inside of his left calf and what appeared to be light explosives attached to his belt.
Well, it had to be him, she thought, straying her eyes for the briefest moment to glance at her watch. Punctual of him, though I don't see why he'd bring so many weapons simply to—
Her hand reached impulsively towards her lightsaber as the man neared. He held up one hand in casual alarm.
"Don't worry. If I had come here to kill you, I would have slid a thermal detonater under the door. No use in coming close enough for you to slice a limb, or maybe a head off. I know how you Jedi are." He inclined his head towards his various weapons. "I'd have come disarmed, but you're not the only threat of decapitation or mutilation that I face whenever I'm in this part of town." He sat down in the seat across from the Skywalkers'. "I'm sure Luke knows what I'm talking about; I think we came here once, back in the old days...remember?"
Luke nodded with near imperceptibleness. "Somewhat. That was a long time ago."
Dash laughed. "You're damned right, it was. Look at you—hardly the countrified kid with mystic pretensions—you went for the whole Jedi thing better than I thought you would. And the husband's role—what ever happened to that other chick? The princess we had to save from old lizard-skin?"
Luke smiled. "My twin sister? She married your old buddy Solo. A while ago—they already have some twins of their own."
Dash whistled. "Damn, he caught a fine one. If I'm not overstepping any boundaries in saying so. Wow." He shook his head. "So they got twins—funny, I'm not seeing Solo as much of a family man, but I guess he'd do alright. Well, not to change the subject so abruptly, but I'm running short on time and all this talk of twins reminded me of why I came here." He took a small datapad out of one of the numerous small pouches attached to his utility belt. He tossed it to Mara, who caught it effortlessly.
"What's this?'
"Your birth record. I figured you never saw it, otherwise you would have known about me a long time ago. There're other docs on there too—nothing too interesting. Or as mind-blowing, I guess."
Mara's face twitched. "I don't believe this—I was always told I was born off world. And I remember saying goodbye to my mother as the Emperor's men took me away."
Dash shrugged. "You were born on Coruscant—not that mother knew. She was unconsciousness and dad was off world, as was Stanton, who was only a little kid anyway. They took away, but they preserved the record, apart from the public ones. But now that the empire's gone—"
"I don't believe it," Mara restated flatly. "And even if I did, what good would it do? My only real parent was the Emperor. And after what I went through with him—it would be hard enough to accept a whole new family without that experience."
Dash looked at her squarely. "I don't really care if you accept either them, or me. I just thought you'd like to know. I'm not saying what you have to make of it."
Mara thought a minute, looking at the record. It was all there; everything official-looking and saying that she was a Rendar, the older of the last two by about three minutes. Apparently, her birth mother had never had the chance to give her a name—Mara guessed the emperor must have given her hers.
But still—documents could be forged. There had to be something more concrete than this. "A blood test. That's what we should do. Just to settle the question—the truth."
Dash shook his head, which, Mara finally noticed, was covered with red hair. It wasn't a deep red, like hers, but a flaming dark orange. Such a small similarity, but yet—"I only have a little time here. I know it doesn't seem very convincing, but I'm not here to convince you of anything. I just needed to do this—to tell you, for whatever reason. It's what mother would have liked me to do."
Mara spoke again, her voice slightly muffled. "Do you have a picture of—your mother?"
Dash flipped out a small holo-transmitter, skimming through some images until he came to one.
It was an old one, not very high quality, but it was in color. The woman was shown completely, from the gilt shoes on her small feet to the long locks cascading to her waist. The hair, Mara noticed, was same the same color as her own—and the face—
Mara gripped the edge of the table as she saw that face, and Luke moved his hand to calm her as he simultaneously noticed what it was that had so shocked her.
Except for the clothes, which were some she would have never chosen for herself, the woman in the holograph may well have been Mara. Her features were identical; her hair was longer, but it was the same otherwise. But the face—perhaps it was merely all this talk of twins which made her think of it, but this woman looked to be an exact replica of the one who now stared at her, slack-jawed with surprise.
Mara recovered quickly, though, and glared at Dash as soon as she was able. "Is this some sort of prank?"
"Watch," he commanded quietly. So she did, and she saw the woman turn to smile at someone outside of the picture. The woman beckoned with one slim, long-fingered hand and was soon joined by a much younger version of the man who now sat, unusually solemn-looking, across from the Skywalkers.
"See, there." Dash's voice was unnaturally soft. "Funny, I never would have cared, but I came across your picture in the news one day—and you reminded me so much of her; I had to search out the rest. That's a laughable, huh? I'm more of a rogue than that Antilles and his entire squadron, but I cared enough about my mother to...well, she was the only woman I ever really loved. I guess that's my excuse for all this." Dash shoved the small holo device into one of his zippered pockets. "Well, that's all really. I'd call you sister, but your face tells me you still don't believe me."
Mara closed her open mouth. "Well." She could think of nothing to say, so she left it at that. What was there to say—what was she supposed to say? She had no earthly clue; perhaps this whole concept of a long-lost twin had once been applied to Luke's life as well, but in a much different way. Perhaps it would have been easier if they'd known each other first, as long as Luke and Leia had—perhaps not. After all, they'd fought on opposite sides of the war—Dash, she remembered vaguely, fought in the Battle of Hoth, even if he wasn't really a Rebel. A merc—well. It wasn't as if she had had a spotless past. The past—well, nobody was left alive who could tell them the truth about that. So why worry about it now?
"Well, I better be going." Dash seemed similarly at a loss for what to do or say. "I guess I'll see you....sometime. Mara Jade Skywalker—I don't suppose I gave you enough reason to add 'Rendar' to that long handle, did I?"
Mara didn't know how to answer that. "Well. Well. If you're in such a hurry—"She wanted to say, "then leave", but something stopped her. Here, at long last was a part of her family—her real family. Not that she hadn't had more than enough surrogates over the years—but still. She couldn't just let him walk away. No.
She leaned forward, letting Luke's hand slip away so that she could grasp Dash's. "What I mean is, I know you're in a hurry—but if you can, don't leave quite yet. I mean—"
Dash's eyes glimmered. "I guess I can stay a little longer."
So there, in that dingy little bar, the only two surviving members of the Rendar clan began to piece together the fragments of their past.
They did not have all the pieces to work with—and, so, the entire story of their parallel lives remained mostly unknown; a drama forgotten after most of its players were dead.
But the past was there nonetheless and was full of more twisted coincidences than either could ever imagine; coincidences that made this chance discovery of their blood relation pale in comparison.
After having lived in Coruscant for the majority of her adult life, Mara Jade automatically felt at home in most parts of that huge city-planet—but, she had to admit, not all. Like any other large city, it had its decrepit underbelly. She had a long relationship with this part of the metropolis—one that stretched back to some of her earliest memories.
But that was hardly an asset anymore. That past may well have been the life of an entirely different person—at least, it often felt like that anymore. Mara did not remember what it was like to be self-conscious in a place like this; a booth in some sleazy bar on Coruscant's lowest level. She looked to fit in enough—she'd kept her familiarity with disguise up over the years, and she was dressed poorly enough not to suggest any ties with the New Republic's higher offices.
After all, her skills notwithstanding, she didn't want to be a target for muggers. After all, once they provoked her to fighting—well, that would certainly draw unsolicited attention towards her—and to Luke, whom she'd brought along for the occasion.
Not that he didn't have reasons of his own for coming. Mara had heard the story once before, when something in their conversation provoked them to discuss the Empire's diamond plated missiles that they'd begun using shortly after the Battle of Hoth. Evidently, Luke had an apology to make; one that he'd nearly forgotten about over the years. After all, you can't apologize to the dead.
It was all rather funny, though, in a quasi-morbid way. The person the Skywallkers had come to meet tonight was not dead, but they had each once thought him so, for considerably different reasons. Luke had thought he'd seen him die, back when he'd assassinated Prince Xizor and wiped out Black Sun with one well-placed missile. And Mara—well, she'd always known her parents were dead, but she'd never really thought about the rest of her family. Unlike Luke, she didn't seem to have any sort of long-lost twin—honestly, that sort of thing was hardly common, and hardly likely. Coincidences were unlikely enough; coincidences in pairs were nearly impossible.
Still, apparently, it had happened—or so it seemed. The path leading to today's meeting had been a strange one. Strange because , once more, it seemed so unlikely that two people who were incessantly working in the same basic arena of intra-galactic warfare could miss a direct, face-to-face meeting so many times. Of course, Mara had reasoned , it probably had something to do with the fact that the other person in question was presumed dead since just before she met Luke in Jabba's palace..
Honestly, that was quite a long time ago—and Mara was uncertain whether it was in her best interests to dig up that distant past. She had come to terms with it, and with the blood on her hands—must she also come to terms with the blood in her veins?
Jade had always seemed a good enough name for her. She knew it wasn't really her own—she knew that she had no real link with any other 'Jade's in the galaxy, and, somehow, that had been a comforting thought. Of course, taking on the Skywalkers' name had been a bit intimidating—there were millions of associations, both personal and public, to go with that name, and some of them were rather troubling to her.
But this new name—Rendar—was another matter altogether. The Rendars were not a type of person that Mara would have felt at home with—quite rich Corellians, self-made aristocrats—arrogant, super-affluent hotshots whose eldest son, Stanton, had crashed into one of the Emperor's favorite private museums a few years back. The 'accident' had been considered treason, and all of the Rendars were immediately banished from their beloved home planet, and all the rest of the Empire.
Mara remembered Stanton, though vaguely. She remembered his crash a little better. There was a reason why, but now, knowing what she knew, she didn't feel like remembering it. Truthfully, she was ashamed to. And a little frightened to, as well. What if the whole story had been created for the sole purpose of luring her here so that Stanton's kid brother could finally have his shot at revenge?
Mara furrowed her brow with worry. "I shouldn't have come. The records he sent me were probably forged. I bet this man intends to kill me for what've done."
Luke raised an eyebrow. "And you're afraid?"
"Not really. But I'd feel bad killing him, having—"Mara cut of her words as she saw Luke look beyond her, to the bar's entrance. She slowly turned to follow his gaze, keeping focused in case imminent defense on her part was required.
As she eyed the man coming in casually through the entryway, she instantly realized that her fears were not ungrounded. The man had a blaster in a hip holster, a knife strapped to the inside of his left calf and what appeared to be light explosives attached to his belt.
Well, it had to be him, she thought, straying her eyes for the briefest moment to glance at her watch. Punctual of him, though I don't see why he'd bring so many weapons simply to—
Her hand reached impulsively towards her lightsaber as the man neared. He held up one hand in casual alarm.
"Don't worry. If I had come here to kill you, I would have slid a thermal detonater under the door. No use in coming close enough for you to slice a limb, or maybe a head off. I know how you Jedi are." He inclined his head towards his various weapons. "I'd have come disarmed, but you're not the only threat of decapitation or mutilation that I face whenever I'm in this part of town." He sat down in the seat across from the Skywalkers'. "I'm sure Luke knows what I'm talking about; I think we came here once, back in the old days...remember?"
Luke nodded with near imperceptibleness. "Somewhat. That was a long time ago."
Dash laughed. "You're damned right, it was. Look at you—hardly the countrified kid with mystic pretensions—you went for the whole Jedi thing better than I thought you would. And the husband's role—what ever happened to that other chick? The princess we had to save from old lizard-skin?"
Luke smiled. "My twin sister? She married your old buddy Solo. A while ago—they already have some twins of their own."
Dash whistled. "Damn, he caught a fine one. If I'm not overstepping any boundaries in saying so. Wow." He shook his head. "So they got twins—funny, I'm not seeing Solo as much of a family man, but I guess he'd do alright. Well, not to change the subject so abruptly, but I'm running short on time and all this talk of twins reminded me of why I came here." He took a small datapad out of one of the numerous small pouches attached to his utility belt. He tossed it to Mara, who caught it effortlessly.
"What's this?'
"Your birth record. I figured you never saw it, otherwise you would have known about me a long time ago. There're other docs on there too—nothing too interesting. Or as mind-blowing, I guess."
Mara's face twitched. "I don't believe this—I was always told I was born off world. And I remember saying goodbye to my mother as the Emperor's men took me away."
Dash shrugged. "You were born on Coruscant—not that mother knew. She was unconsciousness and dad was off world, as was Stanton, who was only a little kid anyway. They took away, but they preserved the record, apart from the public ones. But now that the empire's gone—"
"I don't believe it," Mara restated flatly. "And even if I did, what good would it do? My only real parent was the Emperor. And after what I went through with him—it would be hard enough to accept a whole new family without that experience."
Dash looked at her squarely. "I don't really care if you accept either them, or me. I just thought you'd like to know. I'm not saying what you have to make of it."
Mara thought a minute, looking at the record. It was all there; everything official-looking and saying that she was a Rendar, the older of the last two by about three minutes. Apparently, her birth mother had never had the chance to give her a name—Mara guessed the emperor must have given her hers.
But still—documents could be forged. There had to be something more concrete than this. "A blood test. That's what we should do. Just to settle the question—the truth."
Dash shook his head, which, Mara finally noticed, was covered with red hair. It wasn't a deep red, like hers, but a flaming dark orange. Such a small similarity, but yet—"I only have a little time here. I know it doesn't seem very convincing, but I'm not here to convince you of anything. I just needed to do this—to tell you, for whatever reason. It's what mother would have liked me to do."
Mara spoke again, her voice slightly muffled. "Do you have a picture of—your mother?"
Dash flipped out a small holo-transmitter, skimming through some images until he came to one.
It was an old one, not very high quality, but it was in color. The woman was shown completely, from the gilt shoes on her small feet to the long locks cascading to her waist. The hair, Mara noticed, was same the same color as her own—and the face—
Mara gripped the edge of the table as she saw that face, and Luke moved his hand to calm her as he simultaneously noticed what it was that had so shocked her.
Except for the clothes, which were some she would have never chosen for herself, the woman in the holograph may well have been Mara. Her features were identical; her hair was longer, but it was the same otherwise. But the face—perhaps it was merely all this talk of twins which made her think of it, but this woman looked to be an exact replica of the one who now stared at her, slack-jawed with surprise.
Mara recovered quickly, though, and glared at Dash as soon as she was able. "Is this some sort of prank?"
"Watch," he commanded quietly. So she did, and she saw the woman turn to smile at someone outside of the picture. The woman beckoned with one slim, long-fingered hand and was soon joined by a much younger version of the man who now sat, unusually solemn-looking, across from the Skywalkers.
"See, there." Dash's voice was unnaturally soft. "Funny, I never would have cared, but I came across your picture in the news one day—and you reminded me so much of her; I had to search out the rest. That's a laughable, huh? I'm more of a rogue than that Antilles and his entire squadron, but I cared enough about my mother to...well, she was the only woman I ever really loved. I guess that's my excuse for all this." Dash shoved the small holo device into one of his zippered pockets. "Well, that's all really. I'd call you sister, but your face tells me you still don't believe me."
Mara closed her open mouth. "Well." She could think of nothing to say, so she left it at that. What was there to say—what was she supposed to say? She had no earthly clue; perhaps this whole concept of a long-lost twin had once been applied to Luke's life as well, but in a much different way. Perhaps it would have been easier if they'd known each other first, as long as Luke and Leia had—perhaps not. After all, they'd fought on opposite sides of the war—Dash, she remembered vaguely, fought in the Battle of Hoth, even if he wasn't really a Rebel. A merc—well. It wasn't as if she had had a spotless past. The past—well, nobody was left alive who could tell them the truth about that. So why worry about it now?
"Well, I better be going." Dash seemed similarly at a loss for what to do or say. "I guess I'll see you....sometime. Mara Jade Skywalker—I don't suppose I gave you enough reason to add 'Rendar' to that long handle, did I?"
Mara didn't know how to answer that. "Well. Well. If you're in such a hurry—"She wanted to say, "then leave", but something stopped her. Here, at long last was a part of her family—her real family. Not that she hadn't had more than enough surrogates over the years—but still. She couldn't just let him walk away. No.
She leaned forward, letting Luke's hand slip away so that she could grasp Dash's. "What I mean is, I know you're in a hurry—but if you can, don't leave quite yet. I mean—"
Dash's eyes glimmered. "I guess I can stay a little longer."
So there, in that dingy little bar, the only two surviving members of the Rendar clan began to piece together the fragments of their past.
They did not have all the pieces to work with—and, so, the entire story of their parallel lives remained mostly unknown; a drama forgotten after most of its players were dead.
But the past was there nonetheless and was full of more twisted coincidences than either could ever imagine; coincidences that made this chance discovery of their blood relation pale in comparison.
