A/N: Song for this chapter: Try, Nelly Furtado

A/N: Lines and dialogue have been borrowed from The Last Command by Timothy Zahn

CHAPTER 1

It is twilight, the Coruscant air turning cool against my exposed skin. Standing by myself on the roof of the Imperial Palace, I shrug on my jacket, staring intently at the skyline before me.

For some reason I can't really figure out, I find myself drawn to this place. It doesn't hold any sort of special significance for me, either good or bad, but after the craziness of the past several months, I find it incredibly peaceful here, staring at the traffic and people bustling about below me, carrying out their lives without any sense of concern for what is going on in the larger universe.

Even as I try to find my own peace in the city below, I hear the door to the roof open about twenty meters behind me. I immediately sense who is there, and sure enough, I hear his voice call out to me. "Mara?"

"Over here," I call back, suppressing a grimace. I know that he has come to finally have the talk that I have been putting off for days.

So much for trying to find inner peace.

Luke walks slowly towards me, taking the spot by my side, leaning against the railing of the roof. Our elbows graze each other, and for the first time since I have known him, I do not flinch away at his touch.

"Quite a view, isn't it?" Luke comments, gazing at the city below. "Must bring back a lot of memories for you."

I roll my eyes and throw him a patient look. "You mean to say, just how am I feeling about being back in the Palace this time? You know, Skywalker—just between us—you really don't have what it takes to be devious. If I were you, I'd work with my talents and stick with that straight-out farm boy honesty."

He has the decency to look sheepish, even though I can tell that he is amused by my analysis of him. "Sorry," he apologizes. "Too much time spent around Han, I guess."

"And Karrde and me, I suppose?"

"You want a straight-out farm boy honest answer to that?" he teases.

I smile at him. It's nice to hear him banter this way. It makes him seem more human, and surprisingly, it feels incredibly natural. "I'm sorry I even brought it up," I reply, laughing.

Luke smiles back, then turns serious again. "So, how are you feeling?"

I look back out at the city below me. "I don't know," I admit. "It's sort of like coming home…only it isn't. When I lived here, I never really took the time to look at the city like this. The only times I ever came up here to the roof were to watch for a certain airspeeder to arrive or to keep an eye on some particular building or something like that, you know—business for the Emperor."

Speaking about my old life doesn't come as easily as it used to. I remember the balls, the appearances in court, and the endless missions. I remember hearing Palpatine's call from anywhere in the galaxy. I remember the pride I felt whenever I accomplished one of his tasks. I remember wanting nothing more than to serve the Empire that I so utterly believed in.

But now that the Emperor's last command has finally been fulfilled, and I no longer live in his shadow, I feel something completely different—guilt for my past life, and the things I did as his Hand. Logically, I know that it's pointless to feel this way—the past is the past, and I can't change what I was—but I still can't shake the guilty feelings from my mind. I wonder if I will ever be able to do so.

Looking back out at the skyline, I continue. "I don't think he ever saw Coruscant as people and lights—to him it was just power and opportunities."

"That's probably how he saw everything," Luke agrees, with a hint of resentment and sadness in his voice. I can tell he is thinking about his father…and maybe even about me.

"And speaking of opportunities…" Luke trails off. I grimace. I was right; he's come here to have the talk. I can tell that he's not going to leave until he argues his point enough so that I finally relent, and I just don't feel like fighting anymore.

Isn't that just the perfect metaphor for these past few months?

"Yeah," I reply, "I figured that's why you were here."

He's quiet for a few moments, as if he is trying to figure out the best way to make his argument. I don't attempt to fill the space with idle talk. For once in my life, I feel comfortable with the silence. It is a nice change after five years of hearing that voice inside my head.

And surprisingly, even knowing what Luke has come to talk about, I feel comfortable with him standing by my side.

"I was wondering if you've considered formal Jedi training at all," he finally says quietly. "With me."

I glance at him, not at all surprised. All during our trek across Wayland he kept trying to train me and help me learn to control my power over the Force. Before then, I never realized just how much there was to learn about the Force. And while part of me wants to learn everything that I can and become a Jedi Knight, the other part is scared to fail. Scared that I won't live up to Luke's expectations.

But Luke believes that I will. He's believed in me since the first time he laid eyes on me, when I was pointing a blaster at his face. I wonder if I will ever understand why he feels the way he does. Why he is so willing to forgive.

He looks at me expectantly. I shake my head. "The whole thing's ridiculous," I say. "You know it, and I know it."

"No, it's not. What makes you think so?"

"Please—the Emperor's Hand training as a Jedi with the man she'd sworn to kill for five years? You can't be so naïve as to think that other people won't have a problem with that. The New Republic might not be actively trying to arrest me anymore, but I highly doubt they'll appreciate you teaching me all of your tricks."

"But you're not the Emperor's Hand anymore, Mara. You haven't been for a long time. And why do you care so much about what other people think?"

"I don't, but you should," I argue. "It doesn't matter, anyway. It's a stupid idea."

"Karrde doesn't think so," Luke argues, trying to use my respect for Karrde as leverage.

"Karrde's an even worse idealist than you are sometimes," I shoot back. "Seriously, Luke, what do you think the rest of the galaxy is going to say if you train me as a Jedi?"

"What they say or think doesn't matter. Why do you insist on avoiding something that you're so obviously meant to be?"

"And just how exactly do you know that I'm meant to be a Jedi?" I snap. "I was trained to be an assassin. I learned how to use weapons and connect my mind with the Emperor's and use as much of the Force as I needed to succeed in my missions. But that's it. If I have so much potential in the Force, why did Palpatine never train me more than he did?"

"Do you wish he had trained you further?" Luke inquires.

"No," I answer quickly. I am grateful that I never had the chance to become another Vader. "But part of me still questions why he didn't. I just always assumed it was because I wasn't good enough."

Luke meets my eye. I see a new emotion in his expression—empathy, maybe. Pity. Or maybe just sadness for a friend.

Outside of professional obligations, I have never before been someone's friend.

"He didn't train you because of your potential, Mara," he explains quietly. "He knew that he could control Vader. He could control most people. But you…I don't think he would have been able to control you."

I look at him, mouth agape. "Do you forget what I was, Skywalker? He controlled me implicitly, even after his death. And even after I really knew you, after I learned that everything Palpatine had taught me was a lie, I still couldn't shake his control."

"Only because you weren't trained. Do you think that if you knew the full power of the Force, he could have still held that sway over you?"

"Yes," I reply. "Unequivocally, yes. You don't know what Palpatine was like, Luke."

"Yes, I do. I resisted him."

"You weren't raised by him."

"My father broke free," he argues.

"Only after years of service and then seeing you near death. Trust me, Luke. I couldn't have broken free of his control even if I wanted to. I wasn't—I'm not—powerful enough to do that. After he died, it took me so long to move on and become my own person, and even then, at the end, I still gave in."

I know that Luke disagrees with me, and once again wants to argue that I only gave in to the Emperor's last command in order to save our lives, but he doesn't fight any further. "Either way, I still think you should be trained," he says. "The galaxy is changing, and it needs more Jedi." He touches my hand softly. I glance at him, momentarily taken aback by the earnestness of his expression.

"I've decided to start a school for Jedi—a Jedi Academy, of sorts," he explains. "I've been considering doing so for a while, but was either too busy trying to help stabilize the New Republic or was too scared to take on the responsibility of restarting the Jedi Order. But now, after facing C'baoth, I know that I have to do this. It's my responsibility. I can only imagine how many more people like you are out there, unaware of their potential in the Force. Imagine what would happen if someone like Thrawn, or Force forbid another Palpatine, came into power again and there were no Jedi to stand against them?"

"I don't really want to."

Luke stares out at the city below. "Me, neither. So I'm going to do something about it. Obi-Wan Kenobi told me that I wasn't the last of the old Jedi, but rather the first of the new. Until he said that, I don't think that I really had faith in my ability to teach others the ways of the Force. But if Obi-Wan thought that I could, then that's good enough for me. So," he continues, looking back at me and holding my hand in his, "will you come to the school? Will you train with me?"

Vaguely, I'm aware of how warm his hand feels against mine. Again, it is an odd feeling. Nobody has ever held my hand like this before—out of friendship. I still can't get my head around the idea that Luke Skywalker thinks of me as a friend.

And I consider him a friend, too. Funny, how the universe works.

Finally, I nod slowly into the setting sun. "I'll think about it," I reply.

He nods back. "I can't ask for anything more."

He's silent again, but I can tell he has more to say. "Was there something else?" I press, throwing a sideways look at him.

He smiles. "See? You're getting good at that."

"And just imagine how good I'll get if I do decide to train. So come on, let's have it."

"Here." Reaching into his tunic, he pulls out a lightsaber. It looks vaguely familiar, but I can't place it.

"What's this?" I ask, frowning.

He places the hilt in my hand. "It's my old lightsaber," Luke tells me quietly. "The one I lost at Cloud City, and nearly got killed with at Wayland." He holds my gaze for a long moment. "I want you to have it."

I stare back at him, momentarily unable to speak. Finally, I sputter, "Me? Why?"

He shrugs self-consciously. It seems like such a "Luke" gesture that I feel like laughing despite the gravity of the situation. "For lots of reasons," he explains. "Because you've earned it. Because I want you to train with me as a Jedi and you'll need it. Mostly, though, because I just want you to have it."

I stare at the lightsaber for a long time. This wasn't just Luke's lightsaber; it was his father's, before he became Vader. Even though Luke later built his own weapon, this is still such an important family heirloom. He should be keeping it. It has to be the only thing of his late father's that he ever owned.

And he's giving it to me, the Emperor's Hand. The woman who swore to kill him for so many years.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, I close my hand around the weapon. It fits perfectly in my grasp. "Thank you," I say quietly.

"You're welcome." He smiles at me again. "I can't make you become a Jedi, Mara, but I hope that you can at least start to realize the potential you have."

I nod, considering his words, wondering what the future might hold if I agree to train with him. Thinking about all the wrongs that I can make right. Maybe then, the guilt will finally start to go away.

"When you've made up your mind, you'll know where to find me." At that, Luke squeezes my hand, and turns and walks away across the Palace roof.

I gaze out at the lights of the city again, the cool metal of the lightsaber pressed against my hand. This is probably one of his last links to the past…and he is giving it away. To me, the person who can't run away from hers fast enough.

At that moment, I make my decision. The past is the past. I might as well make the best of the future.

Behind me, I hear the door open. "Hang on a minute," I call after him. He turns around and smiles at me—a smile that holds all the promises of hope for the future.

"I'll come with you."