Hello, and thank you for visiting this new story. I needed to write something different for a bit, while I work out the final details of my other story Worn Out Welcome. This is a series of one-shots that can each stand on their own, but will form a whole story. By making them stand-alone, I take the pressure off myself to write a marathon novel. AU, a couple years after Children of the Jedi, when Luke meets Callista. Feedback is, of course, always welcome, motivating, and thought-provoking. Of course I own nothing in the Star Wars universe. Thank you for reading! - T.

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She'd gotten the question once, a few weeks before the wedding, from a prying reporter: "What is Jedi Skywalker's connection to you?"

She'd been startled, first by the brazenness of the question: as if the man had expected her to unload the details of a very complicated relationship to a complete stranger for the benefit of his readers, slavering for any available gossip on the galaxy's most-visible war hero and, until recently, most eligible bachelor; and second, she'd been surprised by the feeling - a kick to the solar plexus - that suddenly came over her when she'd been asked point-blank to define that relationship.

"We're, ah, old friends," Mara stammered, feeling her face heat as she ducked into her speeder and left the man in a cloud of noxious exhaust.

She punched the steering mechanism as she floored the speeder into the first skylane. The effort that someone would go to in order to break a story; the brazenness to fish through the guest list and harass those people simply to get another angle on Skywalker.

She wondered if he was used to this kind of frenzied media attention, since it clearly had been following him for a number of years. And if so, how he managed to not lose his mind.

Truthfully, perhaps referring to herself as a long-time friend of Luke's could be considered a stretch. Yes, she'd known him a few years now, and, true, she no longer wanted to kill him. So they had a truce. They scarcely ran into each other more than once every few months - usually when her work schedule and his brought them both to Coruscant at the same time. True, a couple times they'd gone to lunch at some greasy spoon or other that Solo had recommended, comfortable enough in each other's company, talking of inane things, sometimes arguing through various issues. She always made a point not to be easy on him. He made a point not to rise to her bait.

And then, they would part ways more-or-less amiably, to perhaps run into each other weeks or months into the future.

Mara supposed that was enough to qualify him as her friend. If Skywalker happened to read her comment in the tabloid, she thought he probably would not find it presumptuous.

She sighed, pulling near her apartment building: a newer high-rise that owed its instant trendiness to its clear view of the old Imperial palace-turned-New-Republic-headquarters - though the traffic noise was a big drawback. Not that it mattered all that much. Mara spent such little time on Coruscant, that few things had time to start wearing on her before she left again.

No, it was safe to say her true home was her ship, the Jade's Fire. And that she had just left in its secure bay a kilometer or so back, along with that annoying holo-reporter who'd apparently been anticipating her arrival long enough to have the gall to meet her halfway down the landing ramp.

It was irritating that Skywalker's fame somehow extended to her, in spite of her efforts to distance herself from it and him.

At any rate, whatever her relationship was with him, it scored her an invitation to the wedding ceremony. The gilt-edged hand-milled paper had arrived at her apartment a month before, and seemed a little too presumptuous to be Luke's idea. Of course it was hers - what man really had any say in his own wedding plans? The card accompanying the ornate announcement requested her presence at the small ceremony reserved for family and friends.

Friends. She was glad she could still be considered that, after their last argument.

Mara stepped out of the turbolift and shouldered her small travel bag. The corridor was tiled in a muted gray diamond pattern on the floor, recessed lighting throwing pale, white light to the end of the empty hall, where the door to her apartment stood.

The last argument had been a doozy. She wished now that she'd kept her big mouth shut when Luke had asked her true, honest opinion of Callista.

Perhaps she could have been slightly more gracious, for Luke's sake, had she not had a run-in with the former Jedi knight on Yavin on one of her supply runs, and been forced to make small-talk with the other woman for thirty minutes before being rescued by one of the younger recruits. Perhaps if she hadn't been in such a foul mood that day, she could have avoided saying the hurtful things she'd said to Luke afterward.

Because she had hurt him, she realized that. Even if she could justify her words as being from a concerned friend, they sounded petty and cruel. She secretly wished she could take them back. Not because she didn't believe they were true, on a level, but because she'd never meant to hurt him.

She supposed the wedding invitation should have felt like an olive branch; making amends. Instead it left her feeling ill, and slightly left out.

Mara walked into the kitchenette now, the apartment with the air of a space barely lived-in, clean and sparsely furnished; impersonal, really. That gilt-edged card was tucked out of sight, under an empty fruit bowl. Against her will, she lifted the bowl out of the way to see the words staring back at her. Luke Skywalker and Callista Ming request the honor of your presence…

She still hadn't graced them with the honor of a reply.

But it was petty to not attend simply because of an argument. It wasn't as though she was jealous. If she and Skywalker were somehow supposed to be an item, goodness knew they'd had ample time to take advantage of the opportunity before Callista had come along. It was not like she'd ever considered Skywalker as a potential romantic attachment.

No, just an old friend.

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She didn't know if relieved was necessarily the right word to describe how she felt when she realized she'd been seated between Lando and Solo. Maybe a better word for the situation would be trapped or typecasted.

But there she sat, sandwiched between the two, who, it turned out, muttered commentary back and forth to each other in low voices until Organa, on the other side of Solo, hissed at them to both stop.

Mara sat back in her chair, back straight, peripherally aware of the photographer leaning in on Lando's left, trying to catch an angle of the attendees. She sat stiffly, while Calrissian leaned into her and flashed a white smile.

"You might not want to get too close," she muttered behind set teeth. He smelled of expensive shaving cream - it was making her nauseated.

"Why?" His smile was still frozen on his own face. "You'll slip your vibroblade between my ribs?"

"Thinking about it."

The photographer stepped away, aiming his camera now at the bridal couple, beaming sloppily at each other. Callista's brown hair tumbled in curls down her back, a simple veil of gauzy white secured to her tresses by an ornately-jeweled ruby clip, glittering in the warm lights. Mara knew the stones were rare Chad rubies, from Callista' homeworld. Leia had told her about them for about five minutes the day before. Not that she'd cared.

"I can't believe you'd find anywhere to hide it under that dress."

Mara leaned away from Calrissian, feeling his gaze travelling across her body, over the svelte, rich green vine-silk that dropped low in the back, leaving little to the imagination. Organa disapproved of the dress, she had noted upon arrival. Which meant she had done her job. "Believe what you want."

Luke was facing Callista, his hands wrapped over hers. Mara could see it from where she sat - the lightness to his eyes, the happiness there. His mouth quirked, tucking away a smile, as the officiator spoke words Mara did not hear. He's happy, she thought. That realization left her glad and strangely melancholy.

Still, she kept her eyes on the couple as they repeated their vows to each other. The officiator, in his bass-tone voice, was speaking to Luke now. "Do you, Luke Skywalker, take Callista Ming to be your lawfully-wedded wife?"

Suddenly, Luke's eyes flicked for a moment to Mara, and she nearly startled at the intensity, the whole sea of bottomless emotion that met her gaze. Then the moment was gone, as though it never happened. "I do," Luke said quietly, smiling only for Callista now, those eyes glistening with unshed emotion.

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The dinner and reception left her with a massive tension headache. Perhaps it was the revelry, the sound strangely amplified under the white, etched glass dome of the ornate palace reception room, extending forty feet above their heads; perhaps it was the champagne - though she'd only had two sips, determined to keep her head at the party, at least. She could get fall-down drunk later, in the quiet and privacy of her own apartment. Perhaps it was the company - she'd prefer the level, detached conversation of Karrde and Aves at their table on the room's periphery. Yet, somehow she'd been paired not only with Lando, but apparently half of Luke's old squadron - all of whom had no compunction about getting completely plastered.

Mara glanced surreptitiously at the massive old-fashioned clock that hung over the plated windows. It's archaic frame merely outlined the hands and the numbers, Coruscant's glittering skyline sparkling in the darkness behind it. It was already very late. The party showed no signs of slowing down, but she was exhausted and did have an early day the next day.

Surely she'd visibly done her duty as a friend by now in attending the day's events. Surely no one would miss her if she quietly slipped out before the couple cut the cake and the overhead lights turned low, faces lit by the antique fuschia Basha lamps on the tables and the audience watched the couple turn on the dance floor.

Surely there was only so much an old friend was expected to endure in one night.

Mara surveyed the others at her table, one of the pilots laughing loudly at a joke shared by Lando. She reached her hand for her green clutch, next to the untouched dessert plate. Berry crumb cake had never been her thing. She smiled benignly at the others, rising to stand.

"Will you please excuse me?"

The air in the room was cool. The dress she was wearing didn't offer much in the way of thermal protection, but, she supposed that had not been the point of wearing it. She'd forgotten the light shawl. Mara shivered slightly as she weaved through the milling people and aliens, talking, holding champagne flutes. The reception was a much larger party than the wedding ceremony had been - more of a who's who of New Republic elite. Mara supposed that could be attributed to Luke's sister's influence. No matter one's wish for a small gathering, if one's sister happened to be the Chief of State, it would be on level with all the trappings of a State function.

"Leaving, Miss Jade?"

Mara glanced up, startled. Winter, the Solo children's nanny - dressed much nicer than she'd been when Mara had seen her last, months ago - stood before her, in a modest gown of iridescent pink, a kind smile on her face.

Mara forced herself to smile back. "I'm afraid so," she answered. "It's a long day tomorrow and I need to get some sleep."

The other woman smiled, murmured something polite and stepped aside to let Mara pass.

Her clutch tucked under her arm, Mara moved as quickly as she could to the exit. If she could just get through without seeing anyone else she knew, her night would be a success. She didn't think she could keep the polite small-talk going much longer. With relief, she passed through the arched main door to the rich-carpeted corridor. Only a sparse number of revelers were milling about, none of whom she recognized, which meant they would not recognize her -

"Mara!"

The voice spun her around, surprise making her heart leap into her throat.

He stood there, navy blue suit looking vaguely military with the gold piping on the sleeves and buttoned high collar. If she didn't know better, she'd say he too looked completely exhausted.

She frowned, her eyes darting to the bank of turbolifts where the corridor widened to the lobby - her escape route blocked. The tension headache ratcheted a couple notches tighter.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted. What would his sister have to say, at the groom jogging from the crowded reception room to speak to her in front of the lift?

Luke stopped in front of her, flashed a tired smile. "I saw... you're leaving?"

She folded her arms defensively. "Yes, well, it's late and I…" she met his eyes, determined not to apologize for having this boundary. What she'd given in the name of this friendship had been more than enough for today. "Yes. I have to go."

Luke smiled again, his eyes kind. That was the olive branch, the forgiveness she'd hoped for after hurting him. Distantly, she noted the inner sigh of relief that unknotted some of the tension in her neck. "I wanted to tell you thank you for coming. For your...support."

Mara tried to smile back, tried to convey a warmth she didn't exactly feel. "I'm very happy for you, Luke."

He took her hand, squeezed it.

And then he was gone, swept away by another well-wisher.

Mara slipped away before anyone could see she'd gone.

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