A month later, their meetings were an established routine. No regular schedule, of course; their respective duties would have precluded that even if Mara had been incautious enough to allow it. But there was always a next time. This week it was at an Ithorian restaurant, where they sat at a back corner table on the patio, mostly obscured from the sightline of passersby but still warmed by the late spring sunshine.

"—so naturally, I crashed right into the vaporator. Actually broke the coolant valve. It took a week to track down a replacement. Uncle Owen about killed me—not that I could blame him."

Mara grinned. "You had to have known that you'd crash a souped-up rig like that."

"No," Luke corrected. "I knew that Biggs or Fixer would have crashed a souped-up rig like that. I had a chance."

"Do you always take stupid risks just because someone dares you?"

"Now, no. At twelve? Of course I did."

Mara shook her head, still smiling. "I can just see you at twelve, too. It's a miracle you didn't kill yourself in that canyon of yours long before you got anywhere near an actual ship."

Luke took another chori strip from the platter between them and dropped it onto his plate. "It's not like we had that many entertainment options. It was die of boredom or die crashing into a canyon wall. At least you got some thrills before the crash."

"Good training for TIE piloting, I have to admit that."

"Didn't hurt." Luke looked over at her. "And what were you doing at twelve?"

Mara glanced at him, at the amused, knowing expression in his eyes, and suspecting that he was seeing the same in hers. "There might have been some training about sabotaging surveillance systems involved."

"The notoriously varied education every dancer relies on," Luke said, nodding seriously.

Mara took another bite of her ioaa fruit salad, rolling her eyes at him as she did so. She hardly remembered how she'd slipped enough to let him know how close to correct his original Intel guess had been, but he'd caught the slip, and she'd known he'd caught it, and there was no going back from that.

The funny thing was, he hadn't cornered her on it. He'd politely and steadfastly maintained the fiction that she was merely a palace dancer, while his eyes silently laughed at her and their conversation never faltered. The initial burst of alarm Mara had felt—how was it so impossible to keep her guard up around him?—faded almost immediately, to be replaced with curious amusement at his tacit collaboration. He plainly didn't care in the least that she was more than she seemed, more interested in getting to know who she was than what she was.

That was something that Mara had never experienced before. This was the first time she could ever remember where someone spent time with her just because they liked her personally and wanted to know more about her. It was the first time she could remember where Mara was a more important identity than Emperor's Hand.

It was powerfully addictive, and all the more so because she liked him, too. She'd barely met him, yet it felt like they'd known each other their whole lives. Her time spent with him merged the thrill of a new, tentative attraction with the easy comfort of a trusted ally. It was like the first breath after emerging from deep water. It was like sunlight on your skin after a long winter. It was like finding something precious you hadn't known you'd lost.

It was completely impossible to give up.

"It's important to start with the basics," Mara said primly, a lifetime's worth of intense training and an elite secret identity now cheerfully reduced to a private joke.

"Crucial," Luke agreed. "But I hope you worked some pilot training in there, too."

Mara poured herself some more sparkling water from the pitcher on the table, carefully avoiding his eyes as she tried hard not to smile, and Luke laughed out loud. "Of course you did," he said. "We really have to figure out a way to race one of these days. Do you think my CO would notice if we snuck a couple of TIEs out of the hangar?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'd beat me there," Mara said, then deliberately met his eyes and tilted her head innocently. "In a TIE, anyway."

Luke pointed his fork at her. "Stop tempting me. This would be an impossible thing to explain at my court martial."

Mara laughed, then stilled as a familiar voice intruded.

Child.

Yes, my lord,

she replied, straightening in her seat without thinking, the mental picture of the Emperor superimposing itself oddly over her surroundings. Across the table, Luke had also gone still, looking at her with a sudden curiosity, yet remaining quiet.

I have a mission requiring your talents. Report in an hour for your orders.

Of course, my lord.

The contact faded, and Mara breathed a sigh of relief that the Emperor hadn't asked any questions about where she was or what she was doing. Then again, did he ever, when she wasn't on a specific mission? The odds were that he didn't even care, so long as she carried out her duties conscientiously.

"I have to go," she said reluctantly.

Luke furrowed his brow at her. "What was that—it was like mental static all around you."

Mara looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said," he replied, looking at her with a new intensity. "It was—almost buzzing, but there wasn't anything to actually hear. But it was there, like—like a halo around you."

Mara stared at him. As far as she knew, there were only three Force-sensitives left in existence: the Emperor, Darth Vader, and herself. But what else could this possibly be?

And if it was that, what did she do now?

"I have to go," she said again. "…rehearsals." She reached out to put a hand on his. "Don't mention this to anyone. The—static, I mean. Seriously, not a single word."

Luke looked at her, the unasked question obvious, yet he just nodded. "When will I see you again?"

"I don't know," Mara said, mind racing. "Rehearsals are unpredictable. I'll contact you when I get back. And then, I'll explain the—the static. But I'm not kidding, Luke; don't talk about it to anyone else."

"All right," he said, as serious as she'd ever seen him. "Be careful. At rehearsal, I mean."

"I will," she said, and squeezed his hand. "Fly safe. I'll see you soon."

It was three weeks before she was back on Coruscant, and another two days before she finished her reports and briefings for the Emperor. Despite no further immediate assignments and her own impatience, Mara waited another day beyond that before she contacted Luke, wary of bringing him to anyone's attention. When she finally commed him, it was a text-only message, a time and a place, nothing more.

So now she sat cross-legged under a tree in one of Coruscant's many small parks, planned bursts of nature to punctuate the endless metropolis. This one was a relatively unknown park, as these things went, largely hidden behind a cluster of bureaucratic buildings that happened to be closed today. The odds were good that they'd have the place to themselves. What worried her more was whether the rapport they'd had was still there. She had, after all, been off-planet almost as long as they'd known each other. Would he still like her?

She felt Luke's presence approaching, and she stood to greet him as he rounded the corner nearest her. He closed the distance between them in a rush and swept her into a tight hug. Startled, Mara awkwardly returned the embrace, then he held her out at arms' length.

"I was worried about you," he said. "Do rehearsals usually take that long?"

"Sometimes," Mara said. "I never really know for sure. I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd worry."

He tilted his head, looking at her disbelievingly. "You were gone for almost a month with no word. Of course I'd worry."

"Oh," she replied, rather lamely. "I usually have to go dark for rehearsals. Sorry."

Luke shook his head. "I guess I'm not used to the complications of a dancer's life."

Mara smiled tentatively at him. "I would have thought pilots led more dangerous lives than dancers."

"I'm not so sure about that," Luke said, eyeing her. He took her hand and drew her down beside him as he sat on the ground. "I'm guessing it's nothing you can talk about."

"Not really," Mara replied, rather distracted by the fact that he was still holding her hand. Luke, of course, hardly seemed to notice he was doing it. "What have you been doing while I was gone?"

"Worrying about you," he said wryly. "But I don't want to confuse you with the concept."

Mara pressed her lips together tightly, torn between exasperation and embarrassment. "It's not something I usually encounter, that's all. It's fine."

"Mm-hmm."

She sighed. "Stop that."

"I've stopped," he said. "You're back, everything's fine, I'm not worried. So what did you want to do today?"

"I thought—" Mara hesitated, then took a deep breath. "You didn't tell anyone about the mental static, right?"

"No," Luke said, looking at her expectantly.

"What do you know about the Jedi?"

"They're all dead." Mara cast him an exasperated look, and he added, "They were warriors or something for the Republic. Seriously, that's all I know. It's not like their history was taught in school or anything." He looked at her again, more seriously this time. "Why?"

She ignored the question. "What about the Force?"

"What force?"

She sighed again. "Okay, we start with the basics, then."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Mara."

"I know," she said, thinking. She had no experience in explaining this to anyone else, and she still wasn't sure if she was doing the right thing in explaining it at all. "Um, the Force is an energy field. Life creates it, it's everywhere, all around us, all the time. Most people aren't aware of it, but some are born with the ability to sense it. If you're one of those people, then you can learn to—to channel it, and control it. That's what the Jedi did, they were trained Force-sensitives."

"How do you know this?" Luke asked, brow furrowed.

"Because the Force didn't die with the Jedi. It's still there, and there are some people left who can sense it, just not very many."

"And you're one of them," he said slowly. "Aren't you?"

Mara looked down at their still-joined hands, tempted for a heartbeat to try to deny it, even at this late stage. To continue this conversation was to walk willingly into a potential minefield, and she knew it. But she was desperately curious, and didn't think she could lie outright to Luke at this point anyway. So instead she took a deep breath. "Yes, I am. And I think you are, too."

Luke looked at her silently for long moments. "The static—that was the Force?"

"It was—it was me using the Force."

"For what?"

Mara trailed the fingers of her free hand through the grass before her, avoiding his eyes. "…communication."

"With?"

She glanced up at him without lifting her head. "The Emperor."

His earlier pause was eclipsed by this one, and they sat in heavy silence until Mara wondered if there even was a way to break it, or if this was simply their existence now. Finally, he said quietly, "You were communicating. Through a mystical unseen Force. With the Emperor. Personally."

And suddenly Mara saw how absurd her story must sound to someone who had never even heard of the Force before. He probably thought she was out of her mind. What a mess this all was. "I'm telling the truth. I promise I am."

Luke shook his head. "I'm not saying otherwise. I just don't even know where to start here."

Mara looked down at the grass again. "I'm not a dancer—well, I am, but that's a cover, like you guessed. I'm—I'm a personal agent of the Emperor. My title is the Emperor's Hand. And you really, really can't tell anyone that. Ever. I'm deep cover, almost no one knows I exist."

Luke was quiet again for long enough that she looked up, only to find him looking at her with a familiar amused expression, his elbow propped on his knee, chin in hand, grinning at her. "Let me get this straight," he said. "You're a super secret deep cover personal agent for the Emperor himself, and you're slumming with a navy lieutenant?"

"That's what you're getting from this?" Mara burst out. "Are you kidding me?"

Luke covered his face with both hands, then dragged them back through his hair, laughing silently but helplessly. Indignant, Mara began to stand up, but he grabbed her hand again and pulled her back down, still laughing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But you have terrible taste in men, obviously. I'm glad I'm the beneficiary, but still."

"Luke, this is important!"

"I know! I can't help it that it's funny too!" He wrestled his expression back to something resembling solemnity. "I'm serious now, I am. Tell me more. Look, you were being trained even as a kid, you already told me that. So what, is there some sort of inside track education your parents pushed you into where high level secret agents come from?"

"I don't remember my parents," Mara said quietly, hesitant again. "The Emperor found me when I was very young, and brought me to Coruscant to be trained."

The lingering amusement was suddenly gone from Luke's sense as completely as though it had never been. "He kidnapped you?"

"No," Mara said automatically. "Of course not."

"It sounds a lot like kidnapping, Mara. You weren't his to take, not unless you were in an orphanage or on the street or something, and even then you don't take a child in just to train them for a job, like they're a droid or a draft animal. Children need a family."

"I—" Mara paused. Technically, the Emperor had taken her away, hadn't he? She'd never thought of it that way before. "I wasn't an orphan. I remember I was with my parents, I don't think they wanted me to go, but I don't remember anything else."

"That's kidnapping," Luke said, and the undertone of controlled anger in his voice startled her. "He stole you, and he used you."

"No," Mara said again, not knowing what else to say.

"Yes," Luke insisted. His eyes were furious still, but whatever he saw as he looked at her made him choke the anger back, and she didn't ask why, didn't want to know. "Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "Okay. Never mind that. What exactly do you do as the Emperor's Hand?"

"Information gathering," Mara said, in a suddenly small voice. "Spying, espionage, sometimes assassination."

Luke dropped his head into his hand, the anger flaring up again through his sense in the Force. He took another deep breath, and said with an unnatural calm, "He uses you to assassinate people?"

"Only criminals or traitors," Mara whispered. Why did this suddenly bother her? She dispensed the Emperor's justice, she rooted out corruption. She'd never felt ashamed of this before. She shouldn't feel ashamed of it now—but Luke's reaction unsettled her to her core.

Luke looked up again, his expression under such tight control that it was almost blank. "Okay. Let's talk about the Force instead."

Mara looked at him, almost afraid, but she had to know. "Are you angry with me?"

He promptly reached out to take her other hand as well, enfolding them both in his own. "No, I'm not. I'm angry with the Emperor. And since I can't exactly march into the Palace and tell him that, let's move on. Tell me about the Force. How do you communicate through it?"

"I just talk, but mentally," she said, still unsure. "The Emperor can talk to me through the Force, and I can hear him and reply, no matter where I am. He said—he said I have a special talent for communication. It's a valuable asset."

"Uh-huh," Luke said, his eyes still hard. "I can see why he'd think that. So if I'm Force-sensitive, what does that mean?"

"On a personal level, it means you could learn to use it yourself. On a larger scale—I don't know," Mara admitted. "You're the only Force-sensitive I've ever met, except for the Emperor and Darth Vader."

"But they're not Jedi, are they? Are you?"

"No," Mara said. "The Emperor and Lord Vader are Sith—it's a different type of Force adept. I don't understand all the philosophical differences; the Emperor only ever explained it in broad strokes. I'm not either one."

Luke sighed. "You live a complicated life, Mara." He thought for a moment. "Can you teach me how to use the Force?"

"Probably, at least a little. What worries me is the thought of the Emperor or Vader sensing you using it."

He looked at her sharply. "Why?"

"They were the ones who eliminated the Jedi. With help, I mean, there was an army, but they led the action. Vader hunted down stray Jedi for years afterward. The Emperor says the Jedi were corrupt and self-serving and would have brought down the Empire—you're not that, but I don't know how they'd react if they found another Force-sensitive."

Luke rubbed a hand over his face. "Should we even try it, then? I've gone this long without even knowing about any of this; it's not like it'll be some huge hole in my life if I continue without it."

"But you're with the Fleet," Mara pointed out, "and you're really talented. Vader is always out with the Fleet, and he actively recruits the best stormtroopers and pilots to his command. You could come to his notice that way. Vader is stronger in the Force than I am, he might be able to sense your abilities. What I was thinking was that maybe I could train you enough that you could learn some basic shielding, so at least your sensitivity wouldn't be obvious."

"Can you teach me to talk to you through the Force?" Luke asked.

Mara blinked. "I think so."

"That's what I want to learn."

"Also shields," Mara insisted.

"Whatever else you want to teach is fine, I'll learn it. But teach me how to talk to you."

Mara considered, then shrugged. "It would be a secure method of communication."

"Yeah, that too," Luke said dryly. She looked at him questioningly, and he waved her off. "Never mind. But I want to learn it."

"Okay," Mara agreed. "But that comes later. First, we try to find your connection with the Force and strengthen it. Close your eyes…"