A/N: Song for this chapter: Anything But Ordinary, Avril Lavigne
CHAPTER 3
Our second day at the Academy starts with palpable excitement in the air. This is the day when our training really begins.
During the morning we have what I call "mental" training—learning about the history of the Jedi, the workings of the Force, and how to use it to the best of our abilities. There is a lot of meditating, a lot of reaching out with our minds. To me, this is by far the most difficult part of becoming a Jedi Knight. I never trained this way under the Emperor, and now, under Luke's tutelage, I'm glad that I never did. I have no prior judgments of what using the Force should be like, and I'm able to dedicate myself fully to Luke's teachings. But, even though Luke consistently tells me I have what it takes to be a great Jedi, I still find it very difficult to connect with the Force as much as I feel that I should.
The more physical classes are held in the afternoon, and I look forward to those the most, as that is where I can truly shine. Since most of the other apprentices have never used a lightsaber before, Luke plans to dedicate a lot of time to lightsaber training. While I know how to handle the weapon better than anyone else here, I still have a lot to learn until I'm able to hold my own with Luke.
When the afternoon comes, we all make ourselves at home on the benches in one of the larger training rooms, waiting with anticipation for our first lightsaber session. Luke arrives shortly after the last student, carrying a large satchel over his shoulder. He walks down the rows, distributing something to each apprentice, but skipping over Corran Horn and me.
As I look at what everyone else holds in their hands, I realize why the two of us were skipped over—Luke was handing out training lightsabers. Of course, I already have one. Corran comes from a Jedi family, so it makes sense that he already has one as well.
After Luke finishes passing out the hilts, he stands in front of us. "I know that all of you are looking forward to these classes," he says, his expression betraying the fact that he's looking forward to them as much as we are. "As you'll soon find out, learning to use a lightsaber can be a very difficult task. Not only do you need to learn to handle the weapon physically, but you also have to learn to control it mentally. There's no point in becoming proficient with a lightsaber if you're not using your full potential in the Force while wielding it."
Even though I know he's not addressing me specifically, I can't help but feel a tiny bit of shame at his words. Sure, I'm good with a lightsaber, but I've never come anywhere close to my full potential in the Force while using one.
"For the most part, you'll start out using training remotes, learning to trust your instincts to block the laser bolts. Later, I'll be showing you different styles of lightsaber combat, and you'll find that you may prefer certain forms to others. And of course, you'll eventually want to spar with your fellow apprentices—I just ask that you do so only when you feel absolutely comfortable handling a lightsaber. I don't want anyone losing a hand in one of my classes."
I immediately clasp my hand to my mouth and cough, disguising the laugh that threatens to escape. Luke darts his eyes to mine for a split second and gives me the faintest of smiles, pleased that I found his joke amusing. But I force myself to look away and focus, because I don't want people thinking that I'm an idiot or something for laughing at the great Master Skywalker during our first lightsaber session.
It becomes very easy to stop laughing as he removes his cloak, unhooks his lightsaber from his belt, and ignites it in front of him. Several training remotes levitate in front of him as he backs up into the middle of the room.
"I know that many of you have never even seen a lightsaber in person before," he says. "You'll be starting with the basics, of course, but first…I wanted to show you what you can really do with a lightsaber."
Without another word, the training remotes start firing bolts at him, slow at first, and then faster and faster. Luke blocks each of them with ease, his actions a blur and not even seeming to exert himself. My mouth drops open in awe as I watch him move.
I thought I had seen on Wayland what Luke Skywalker could do with a lightsaber, but this…this is different. Much different.
And suddenly, in the back of my mind, I'm aware of a very new feeling emerging—admiration. Attraction.
I push it away as soon as I feel it. What the hell is wrong with me? It is absolutely, positively ridiculous. He's my master now, for Sith's sake! I tell myself that I only feel this way because I'm in awe of Luke's control over the Force. I want to learn to do what he can.
The little voice inside my head calls me a liar. I tell her to shut up and pay attention.
The remotes finally stop shooting and, after a split second of silence, the room erupts into applause. Luke finally seems to take notice of us watching him and blushes a deep shade of crimson before immediately composing himself, the consummate Jedi Master.
"Thank you," he says, raising his hand at us. "I know that doing something of that nature seems very far off right now, but I fully expect each of you to be able to use a lightsaber that well when you have finished your training.
"Now, as I said, you'll start off using remotes, but fighting against living beings, especially Force users, is very different. You have to predict their movements as well as ensure that they cannot predict your own. But once you become more attuned to the Force, it sometimes becomes even easier to fight against the living."
His eyes twinkle ever so slightly, and he suddenly looks incredibly young, like a boy again. "And with that, I'd like to ask for a volunteer to join me for a little practice."
The room turns silent as we realize that Luke is asking for someone to spar with him. Everyone looks unconvinced; asking a group of new Jedi apprentices to spar with Luke Skywalker is like asking them to walk into the nexu's den. I spare a glance at Corran, also holding his own lightsaber, but he seems no more willing to get his butt kicked by Luke than anyone else in the room.
Not wanting my friend to get frustrated by a lack of enthusiasm on his first day of lessons, I take a deep breath and stand. "I'll do it," I volunteer.
Everyone looks at me in shock, but I ignore the others as I remove my cloak and walk to the center of the room. Luke grins at me, as if he was hoping that I would be the one to volunteer.
We face each other and bow, which he explains is the proper etiquette for sparring. Then he whispers, only loud enough for me to hear, "Your goal is to disarm me. Do it in any way you deem necessary—without removing any limbs, of course."
I nod and ignite my lightsaber, suddenly feeling nervous, and he follows suit. "Oh, and Mara?" he adds. A hint of a mischievous smile crosses his lips. "Don't hold back."
I don't feel nervous anymore. "If you insist," I reply, returning his smile tenfold. And then I strike.
There is no way that I could ever hold a candle to Luke in a regular duel, but to my amazement, I find it very easy to spar with him. He is holding back, despite his warning for me not to, but that doesn't bother me. I concentrate only disarming him. I am able to predict his moves and block each of his blows with ease, but every time I figure out ways to get an advantage on him, he manages to stop me. Instead of growing frustrated, as I would have only months ago, I reach out into the Force and let it guide the weapon in my hands, and it is amazing just how right it feels to be fighting this way. I've always been an excellent fighter, and have always been able to predict the moves of an opponent using logic and instinct, but this is different. It's like I was born to do this.
After several long minutes, it is clear that I am never going to be able to disarm Luke using any of my previous strategies, but then I remember his words: Do it in any way you deem necessary. He knows that I'm an expert in hand-to-hand combat. And he told me not to hold back.
If he insists…
In an instant, I stick my leg out between his and make a wide sweeping motion. Luke stumbles before catching himself, but that one faltering moment is all I need. In a short second I body check him and then, using all of my strength, I knock his head back and force the lightsaber out of his hands with my elbow.
I stand there in silence, breathing heavily, staring at Luke's now-empty hand in utter disbelief. Slowly I look back up at his face, almost scared to do so, but instead of being angry or upset at losing, he is grinning at me with such overwhelming pride.
And then a very distinct shiver goes down my spine, and as a look of attraction flashes across his eyes, I realize that he has felt the same thing. Swallowing, I bow to him before turning and hurrying back to the other apprentices, who are now staring at me in awe. I ignore them, trying hard not to concentrate on the unmistakable feeling that is welling up inside me, that will not let me push it away.
I sigh, kicking myself internally, knowing that my Jedi training has just gotten a lot more complicated.
The first week of classes flies by so fast that I can hardly believe when our first official day off arrives. Our schedule has us training for six full days, then one day off, and then the cycle starts all over again. Frankly, I'm glad that we have so little time to ourselves, because there's nothing else to do on Yavin IV except get to know everyone else…and try not to dwell about what happened during the first lightsaber class, and the inappropriate thoughts that keep popping into my head at the most inopportune moments, such as when Luke is guiding me through very important meditation sessions.
To keep my mind occupied on other matters, I do my best to get to know my fellow students. Ordinarily, I'm not the most sociable of people, but since I'm not in a normal situation anymore, I might as well try to change my ways. And it goes well, thanks to Tyria, who introduces me to the military guys, and Luke, who, despite all his best efforts not to let it show, definitely favors me over the other apprentices. I guess everyone thinks that if he likes me so much, I can't be that bad of a person.
But despite my efforts to be overly friendly, I still haven't had the chance to talk to Corran Horn one-on-one, so when I enter the mess just after sunrise on our first day off and find him eating by himself, I grimace. He's already noticed me so I can't leave, and it would be petty of me to sit at another table. So instead I suck it up and walk over to him after picking up some food.
"Mind if I join you?" I ask, unwrapping a ration bar. Eventually, when more apprentices arrive, the Academy will have a cook on staff, but for now we're stuck fending for ourselves—and since we all have so little time, we only make the effort to prepare real meals for dinner.
Corran looks up from his unappetizing meal of instant hot cereal. "Go ahead," he replies in a blank voice, gesturing to the seat across from him. I sit down and take a bite out of my ration bar. We eat in silence for a minute, the awkwardness growing between us.
"You should eat this," Corran says, breaking the ice.
I take a pointed look at his meal and crinkle my nose. "No, thanks. I'll stick to these," I reply, holding up my ration bar.
"This stuff has more nutrients," he answers between bites.
"It does?" I ask curiously. I enjoy nice meals like everyone else, but I've lived in these kinds of conditions so often that I know the importance of thinking about food not in terms of taste, but as fuel. It's nice to hear that other people think the same way.
Corran nods. "Yeah. It tastes like crap, but so do those. And with the way Master Skywalker's been kicking my butt, I need all the help I can get."
I crack the faintest of smiles at his joke. While his tone is light, Corran is definitely not the type of person who enjoys being beaten, even by a Jedi Master. During our training classes, I could sense Corran's frustrations grow whenever Luke got the best of him, which just so happened to be every time. All of us are getting our butts kicked, including me, and I wouldn't expect anything less from Luke. It's the only way for us to learn. But obviously Corran Horn isn't used to losing.
"Those classes are tough," I admit, grateful that Corran hasn't shown any animosity towards me…yet. Maybe I misjudged him after all.
"Are you kidding? I thought CorSec training was bad, but this is a hundred times worse. Of course, you're the best in the class so you probably can't relate…not that that's surprising or anything, considering your background."
He meets my gaze at his last remark, and I feel my expression cool, all my old defenses at the ready. I narrow my eyes at him, but force myself to remain civil. "Oh?" I reply.
To his credit, Corran doesn't back down from his assertion. "I'm sure the Emperor taught you a lot of this stuff already."
I look down at my ration bar and start picking at it angrily. I hate the fact that everyone presumes to know everything about my past. I know that I can't hide where I come from. It's a part of who I am, as much as I hate it. But having people assume what I do or don't know is bothersome, especially if they think that Palpatine taught me everything himself—they probably think I was some sort of Sith, which couldn't be further from the truth.
After a few moments, I meet Corran's eye again. If I'm going to be a Jedi, I have to learn to be honest. "Actually, he didn't really teach me much about the Force," I explain. "I learned mostly physical stuff. So I guess you're right, those classes don't trouble me much, although I definitely have a lot to learn. It's all the mental training that really gets to me." To my surprise, it doesn't feel weird to confide in Corran, someone I barely know and who obviously holds no affection for me. "You seem to be doing well in those classes," I add.
He shrugs proudly. "I have my strengths, and that's one of them."
"One of many?" I joke.
He finally smiles at my jab at him. "I see that my reputation precedes me."
"Well, you are a Rogue. You guys are pretty easy to stereotype."
He laughs and nods in agreement. "All except for the guy who started the squadron."
"Yeah, Luke—I mean, Master Skywalker—could definitely do some good in taking lessons in arrogance from the rest of you."
"Ah, but then he wouldn't be the Master Skywalker that we all know and love."
"That's true," I agree, trying not to dwell on his last word. We fall into silence again to finish our breakfasts. Once Corran puts down his spoon, he reaches his hand across the table. I stare at it for a moment, and then hesitantly reach out to accept his handshake.
"Sorry for being a jerk," he says. "Master Skywalker invited you here, and I trust his judgment."
"Not a problem," I reply. I note that he's not apologizing for thinking badly about me, only for acting on it. But I guess that's good enough for now. After all, it's still hard for me to come to terms with what I was—why should it be easy for others?
As the weeks go on, the physical training classes become easier and easier, while my mental exercises become more and more difficult. I'm definitely gaining a keener sense of the Force, and can perform all the major skills with ease—including telekinesis, which I rub in Corran's face as much as possible. But I don't feel a true connection with the Force the way I feel that I should. Something's holding me back, and it's frustrating. Luke knows that I feel this way, but I haven't felt comfortable bringing it up during our private lessons. Instead, I always request to spar with him, because I know that's what I'm good at, and keeping my mind active is the best way to forget that damn shiver that keeps going down my spine whenever he smiles at me. I keep telling myself that I only have these feelings because I admire him as a Jedi—maybe a physical attraction at best. I've never had a problem ignoring my feelings in the past, so that's what I do…or at least, that's what I try to do.
After that first sparring session, I kept using my hand-to-hand combat skills as an advantage, but Luke quickly learned how to use my own tricks against me. For today's session, Luke finally asked if we could forget the lightsabers altogether and fight completely unarmed. I balked at first, wanting to get as much lightsaber training with him as possible…but then the thought of flooring Luke Skywalker came to my mind and there was no way that I could possibly say no.
We're in one of the smaller training rooms, fighting hard, never inflicting any serious injuries, but doing enough damage to make it hurt. To my surprise, Luke is very skilled at this type of combat. I expected flooring him to be easy, but either he's been practicing in his nonexistent spare time or the Force really is by his side. Instead of growing frustrated, I reach out with my senses as much as possible, blocking Luke's moves and trying to keep him from predicting mine, just as if we were using lightsabers.
My confusing feelings for him never surface while we are fighting. All my old assassin instincts come out in full force, and I concentrate only on flooring him, something I swore to do as soon as we bowed to each other.
But suddenly, out of nowhere, he sweeps my legs out from under me and dumps me unceremoniously on my back. Before I can jump back up he's on top of me, pinning my arms above my head, keeping me from moving even an inch.
I scowl at him, angry with myself for letting him best me at my own game…and then, staring into his eyes, motionless beneath him, that damn shiver again goes down my spine and I have to force my eyes shut against it.
Luke grows tense on top of me, but doesn't move. After long seconds I open my eyes again, and he's still staring intently at me. Not knowing what else to do, I do what I do best.
"So. You want to get off me, or were you just getting comfortable?" I know that my wisecrack is dripping with double entendre, but it serves its purpose; Luke smiles sheepishly and quickly pushes himself off me. He extends his hand to help me up but I'm already on my feet.
"Nice moves," I compliment him. "You been taking lessons in your spare time?"
He has the courtesy to blush a bit. "No, just lucky."
I raise my eyebrows. "I thought there was no such thing as luck?"
"Touché," he offers. "Care for another round?"
"No, thanks," I answer, rubbing my back, feigning pain. I'm more than able to stand a few more hours sparring with him, but all I want right now is to get far away from him—and my stupid, confusing emotions—as quickly as possible. I extend my hand and he accepts it. "Good-bye, Master Skywalker," I say formally.
"Good-bye, Mara," he replies softly, almost lovingly…and then, before I can move away, his thumb moves infinitesimally against the side of my hand, just enough for me to really take notice of the feel of his skin against mine. I look back into his eyes, and suddenly I know, with complete and utter clarity, that this is way more than just innocent admiration or even a simple physical attraction.
This is a problem.
I hurry away, cursing myself all the way back to my quarters, wondering how in the galaxy I ever got to a place where I'd be training as a Jedi apprentice…and at the same time falling head over heels for the man I'd once sworn to kill…who is now my master.