Chapter Ten:

Luke couldn't wait to get out of his disguise. His hair felt like he'd been swimming through a pile of grease, and his face itched where the putty was drying out. He checked on his newfound companion to make sure she was fine, and then went to the refresher to clean up and become Luke Skywalker again.

He stripped from his clothing and then leaned toward the mirror so he could remove his facial alterations. Little by little the putty came free, and each piece pulled at the hairs on his skin as it was removed, making him feel ticklish and itchy all at once.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he finished, working his skin gingerly with his fingertips along his facial features to ease any residual tightness. Next he grabbed the hair-dye removal and bent over the sink.

It took him several long, tedious minutes to remove the dark dye from his dirty-blond hair, but at long last he could find no traces of black in his locks. With a happy breath of air, Luke finished his clean up with a sonic shower.

He stayed in the spray once he'd finished soaping up, allowing the warmth to relax tense and sore muscles.

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On her bunk, Mara was lost to vivid dreams of the night of her capture: a set of visions that wasn't to her remembrance… but was rapidly taking a turn for the worst.

She was racing down the corridors, her mind spinning almost wildly out of her control. Behind her were crowds of people, all calling for her blood.

Mara raced through the halls, her footsteps that normally echoed in the grandiose halls lost to the pervading thunder of the stampede hot on her heels. Mara passed a doorway and she skidded to a halt.

She dove inside, hiding behind a desk. But the crowd, with far too many seeing eyes for her to effectively disappear, followed eagerly.

The next thing she knew she was in the Emperor's quarters, and Mara opened the door to the secret passages the tapestries concealed. But the hordes of people were suddenly all over, swarming in from all available entrances, secret or otherwise.

Mara was now surrounded and she whipped out her blaster, taking shots. But the crowd surged forward and seized hold upon her.

Suddenly she was no longer inside the Imperial Palace, but strung by all fours to a dancer's post, naked for all to see. The masses were now laughing and jeering at her.

Mara screamed in outraged humility, seeking to use the Force to hide her form from the prying eyes, but there were too many.

Upon her bed, unaware that she was undoing all of her rescuer's hard work, Mara's body quivered heavily as she tossed and turned.

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Luke had just toweled off when he felt Arica's first spike of fear. It was nothing much at first, but it did give him pause. Frowning, Luke proceeded to dress, making it as far as his under garments and his pants before the woman's fear morphed into horror.

Her scream echoed down the corridor and Luke responded instantly, racing back to her cabin. As soon as he spotted her jerking body, Luke jumped to her side, grabbing her shoulders in his hands.

"Arica!" Luke whispered urgently.

Her only response was to shriek while in the throes of her nightmare and shy back from his touch, so Luke shook her carefully.

"Arica!" he called louder. "Wake up!"

Arica gasped, but still did not wake, almost as if she was trapped. Luke thinned his lips and reached for her in the Force, carefully separating her from her nightmare.

Arica's eyes snapped open, and her breathing was labored from her efforts to get away from her terror. She looked around wildly for a second before her eyes rested on Luke.

"Hey, it's okay," Luke soothed. "It was just a dream."

Arica promptly patted her body as if to reassure herself that she was still clothed; never mind that she was drenched in perspiration. Luke noted with chagrin that her bandages had mostly come undone; though her ankle and wrist remained safely wrapped, for which Luke was glad.

In a moment of disorientation, Arica backed away from him warily.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

Luke smirked wryly. "It's me, I just removed my disguise."

She narrowed suspicious eyes, taking him in with a clear, keen gaze. As she studied him, Luke saw the first inklings of recognition light up her intelligent eyes. Arica's stare roamed over his body quickly, but lingered on his face, peering into his eyes as though she could see into his very soul. Luke squirmed a touch at the intensity of her gaze, but his attention was held fast when her recognition changed again. Her green orbs now registered something far deeper than mere identification.

This woman remembered him.

But from where? Luke wondered.

"What is your real name?" Arica asked with the air of someone seeking verification of something they already suspected.

"Luke Skywalker," he answered honestly.

Instead of the awe most people seemed to display upon realizing who they were talking to, Arica merely nodded as though they were old school-mates, and she'd simply forgotten his name.

"I thought so," she admitted. "I suspected your identity back on Nar Shaddaa, but I didn't want to assume and be wrong."

Luke was surprised. "Am I that bad an actor?" he quipped.

Arica actually smirked. "You're not too bad, but you need some more experience."

Luke chuckled. "I managed well enough this time."

Her humor sobered, and she looked away. "Yes."

Sensing her need for solitude, Luke nodded once and backed out of the room.

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Once she was alone again, Mara's melancholy returned.

How in space was she going to move on after her wretched experience?

Fool, you're an ex-Emperor's Hand! Mara chided herself vehemently. Use your training to build yourself a new life.

Mara sighed: that was easier said than done.

Where do I start? Mara wondered. I have no friends, and my accounts in the Empire are most likely frozen or taken back by whoever is in charge. I have nothing but the shirt on my back.

Mara snorted disdainfully. She didn't even have that… these clothes were borrowed from Skywalker.

She'd lost everything the day the Emperor had died.

And while she had been trying to extricate herself from him anyway, she never could have foreseen where she would land next. Had the Force granted her the foresight of what her life would become upon the Empire's end…

Well, Mara would more than likely have actually killed Skywalker.

But then she recalled how confused she'd been before she'd gone to Jabba's palace. She had been on the fence, teetering toward the Rebel's side, but at that time she hadn't found what she needed to sway her completely.

That is, until Skywalker had shown up.

His presence had changed everything for her, making her realize perhaps for the very first time just how cold, oppressing and overpowering those of Darth Vader and especially Palpatine had been. Having grown up with that, Mara hadn't known there was a difference: it hadn't bothered her until that fateful day months ago.

But once she'd been exposed to the Jedi's warmth, to his light and openness, she had both seen and felt the vastness of the distinction between Sith and Jedi.

For the first time ever, Mara had been repelled by the Emperor's stench, his rotting presence; not just physically, but in the Force.

Mara was brought around to her previous line of thinking: would she actually have killed Skywalker had she known where she would end up?

Mara sighed again, tears spilling from her green eyes.

She really didn't know for sure how she would have reacted; but what was done was done, and there was no going back.

That left her with only where she would go.

But still, she found it hard to dwell on anything but the past two weeks: on how Garris had treated her so horribly. How she had been forced to wear that wretched outfit, which concealed just enough to keep the barest parts of her anatomy covered.

She had been pretty much as visible to the men who entered her room as she'd been in her dream. How did she just move on from that? Especially when she had nowhere to go, with no means of transportation, and not even a shirt to call her own?

A wave of hopelessness engulfed her, and Mara felt suddenly as though she were a kid that couldn't swim, and who'd just been dropped into a deep pool. She struggled against the tide of despair that threatened to overwhelm her, floundering against the tidal-wave of dark emotion.

She felt suffocated by the despondency, and it was all she could do not to choke on her own sobs. Mara didn't know how long she wallowed in her misery before a gentle hand touched her shoulder.

Instantly a cautious mental hand was extended to her, and Mara was enraptured by it. Even in her state of mind, this man wasn't forcing her to accept his help. But Mara desperately needed it… needed him she now realized.

Mara had no idea what depths that had come from, but the moment that thought crossed her mind, she knew it was the right path for her.

And so she took his proffered hand, and allowed Luke Skywalker to save her… again.

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Luke drew Arica back from the dangerous depths of her despair with a firm, but gentle tug. He enveloped her in his warmth and light, sending her every encouraging thought he could muster until she turned to face him.

Her face was slick with tears, and her eyes still sorrowful, but she was beginning to recover. She grabbed his hand that rested upon her shoulder and held it tightly.

"Please lie with me," she pleaded whisper-quietly.

Luke recalled the last time he'd lain with her, and he offered an imitation of Han's famous lopsided grin.

Rubbing his abs in ginger remembrance, he asked. "Is it safe to do so?"

To his delight she snorted with momentary laughter. "Yes, because I asked you to."

Luke chuckled, and then sobered again as she did.

"Please… Luke," Arica implored tentatively. "I… I need you."

It took Luke a tremendous effort not to gawk at her admission, and even so, he couldn't conceal his surprise. Luke held her gaze, studying her in the Force and gauging how serious she was, also being mindful of her frame of mind.

To his surprise, her mind was clear… but her loneliness called to him like nothing ever had before, and he nodded.

Taking off his boots, Luke carefully climbed into the cot behind her. Arica hesitated uncertainly, but when he wrapped his arms around her protectively she melted against him, needful of his touch, his presence.