Chapter 3

Luke closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He sat on his pallet in his small room trying to meditate, fighting to find peace. A small tendril of fear crept through his consciousness as he realized it was taking more energy than normal to reach his center of calm. It scared him that he had so little control over his emotions. He couldn't understand how he could've let that woman get under his skin so easily. He didn't have time to muddle over it, because he became aware of another presence at his door.

"Han, now isn't the best time," he said without opening his eyes.

He barged into the room anyway. "Well, you know me and my sense of timing," he joked.

Luke opened his eyes realizing Han was not going to go away until he said what he came to say. He felt tired, drained.

"You know, I always knew you had a suicidal streak in you, but don't you think you're pushing your luck just a bit?"

Luke stared at him quizzically.

He pointed over his shoulder. "I saw the door to your office earlier and then saw Mara a few minutes ago. You know, most people who get on that woman's bad-side end up as Bantha fodder."

Luke only shrugged his shoulders in reply.

"So, kid, what's eating you?" That was Han. Straight to the point. Never one to get all mushy, he had assumed a casual attitude, but Luke could feel concern brimming just under the surface. And he doubted it had anything to do with dismemberment by Mara Jade.

"I just have a lot on my mind."

"Yeah, I'm not buying. Don't get me wrong, it's actually a relief to know you're still human, but these emotional outbursts are just a little out of the norm for you, don't you think? Not to mention shorten your life expectancy."

Luke groaned but said nothing.

"You're not going to do something silly and fall to the dark side or anything, are you?"

"Never!" It was a knee-jerk reaction, and Luke knew it. And Luke knew that Han knew it. The truth was that he had been having the same thoughts recently. Fear, anger, despair, all were of the dark side. And hadn't he been feeling every one of those emotions? A cold shudder washed through his body, but he shrugged it off.

"Okay, just checking." Han held up his hands as if to fend off an attack. He paused as if searching for the right words. "I think I understand."

Now Han had him completely stumped. He didn't even know, himself, why he had been acting the way he had.

"You know, women are irrational, emotional creatures with or without the Force. And they make every creature around them act and think irrationally, especially men."

"Huh? Okay, now you've completely lost me. What in the galaxy are you talking about?"

"Callista."

"Whoa! Han, stop," Luke pleaded. "I really don't want to talk about Callista."

"Callista is gone," Han continued, ignoring the warning look Luke threw at him. "Your life isn't even close to being half over and you are living as if ... well you're not living. You've given up on life, pal, and that ain't healthy. It's time to get over this woman and move on with your life before it really is over."

"Just like that," Luke scowled and snapped his fingers.

Han leveled his gaze on him. "How many years has it been, Luke? I don't like seeing what this is doing to you, and I don't like seeing how this is affecting Leia and the kids. They're worried sick about you."

Luke looked away guiltily. He had isolated himself to keep the ones he loved from being affected by him, instead it only seemed to make matters worse. He should have concealed his feelings better. Every Force-sensitive within twelve klicks must've been able to pick up on his inner turmoil. He knew Han was right, and he had to accept that Callista was not going to be a part of his life. But how does one get rid of the loneliness?

"Even Mara's worried about you," he continued.

"She said that?" Luke asked surprised.

"Are you kidding? She'd rather kiss a Wookiee than admit she cares about anything other than business or profit!" Han threw a suspicious look toward his brother-in-law. "You know, despite her past, Mara really is a decent person deep down."

"Not so deep down," he replied quietly. From the first moment they met and she had wanted to kill him, Luke could sense the good within her, even if she didn't believe it herself. He could feel kindness and loyalty beneath the bluster of her pride. Now he felt guilty about the way he had acted toward her.

Han watched his brother-in-law's face carefully as he muddled over his thoughts. Then abruptly he turned to go. "Well, it's time I blast out of here. Anakin will be waiting, and I've still got to pick up the nerf steaks for Leia's little dinner party this weekend." He stopped himself with a look of pained surprise. "I really have turned into a domesticated house-husband."

That drew a small chuckle from Luke. "Send Leia my love."

"Will do. May your sanity be with you," he added with a lopsided grin. He was almost to the door when he turned around, serious once more. "And Luke, just ask yourself, are you holding on to her because you love her or because you don't want to risk loving anyone else?"

Before Luke could reply, he had disappeared down the corridor. His last comment struck a cord within him. He closed his eyes and tried meditating once more. Questions swam through his mind in a blur. He couldn't make any sense of them at the moment, but one thing was clear. He needed to regain control. The subject of Callista opened up too many wounds he was not prepared to deal with at the moment, so he buried every feeling he had for her. When the time was right, he would deal with those feelings.

Now Mara needed his help for her mission. He couldn't let her go alone, especially if some dark jedi or Sith were behind the hijackings. At the thought of her, a pang of guilt swept through him. Once again he found himself in the position of apologizing to possibly the most infuriating woman he had ever met.

* * * * *

A cool shower and change of clothes did wonders to improve Mara's mood. Standing in front of a large mirror, she twisted her still damp locks away from her face and fastened them with a large clip. She took a long look at herself and the black jumpsuit she had donned while her other clothes were drying. She shook her head ruefully. My wardrobe is getting to be about as imaginative as Skywalker's. That stray thought reminded her of the next, more pressing mission she had to do. She really had been out of line back at the river, but the thought of apologizing to that man absolutely nettled her. Well, she might as well get it over with.

As she approached Skywalker's room, she felt some of her resolve start to melt and the knot in her stomach harden. Oh, this is stupid! Just go apologize and get it over with. She raised her hand to knock, but a voice on the other side of the door interrupted her.

"It's not locked, Mara," Skywalker said. His voice sounded strained and tired. "You can use the handle this time."

Mara colored slightly at the comment. She turned the old-fashioned style handle and nudged the door open. Skywalker sat on his pallet enveloped in his usual black Jedi robes. Geez, does he shower in them too? His eyebrows shot up at her unspoken thought, and he glanced down at his robes, then at Mara's own attire. Apparently finding something funny or ironic, he snorted, and his mouth crooked into a small, brief smile. She kicked herself for being so careless with her thoughts.

"Come in," he said when she paused in the doorway.

She walked cautiously across the stone floor, but she held her head high toward the man on the pallet. He almost appeared to be meditating, except his eyes were clearly focused on her. He exuded a calmness about himself that by contrast made Mara uneasy. As there were no chairs in the spartan room, she sat down on the edge of the pallet.

"Well, Skywalker, I guess it's my turn to say 'I'm sorry'," she said trying to make her voice sound airy and natural. Instead, it came out as a pathetic squeak, for which Mara once again berated herself. "I don't know what got into me back at the river. I shouldn't have said those hurtful things to you," she said all in a rush. She quickly stood to escape before making a complete fool out of herself.

"You were right," Skywalker's voice floated to her stopping her in her tracks. "About some of it anyway."

At that moment, she noticed the bag at the foot of the pallet. A rather small valise big enough for a few changes of clothing and whatever personal effects one might need on a journey. She turned to Skywalker in astonishment. "You're still willing to go on the mission with me?"

The piercing blue eyes bored into her making her cringe. She knew they were not meant to be unkind, but the horrible vacancy in them was terrifying. Something had changed in Skywalker since their talk by the river. His eyes, lately stormy and full of turmoil, were now dull, as if someone had pulled a shade over them. It looked like something had died within him leaving an empty void. Mara wasn't sure what to make of it.

"It's too dangerous for you to go alone, Mara," Skywalker responded in the same hauntingly quiet voice. "But the topic of Callista is off limits," he warned.

Mara, usually quick with snide remarks or witty comebacks, only nodded dumbly. She had already done enough damage in that area to last awhile. Murmuring a quick goodnight, she stumbled out of Skywalker's room more than a little spooked. Maybe this mission wasn't such a great idea after all.

* * * * *

Only 24 standard hours into the journey, Mara thought she was going to have to jettison Skywalker out the airlock. She locked herself in the cockpit of Jade's Fire and stared out into the swirling lights of hyperspace while massaging away the remnants of a headache. From the further recesses of the ship, she could hear Skywalker moving about, grumbling something about temperamental ships and their pilots. That brought an almost amused smile to her lips. He sounded almost like his twin.

Mara couldn't decide which was worse, the miserable and moping Jedi Master or the argumentative, obnoxious, stubborn goon that had invaded his body. He appeared the morning of their take-off freshly showered and shaved. She thought for a moment she was seeing a younger Han Solo. She had to blink once or twice to make sure her eyes weren't placing funny tricks on her. He even had the same swagger. As per the aforementioned agreement, she said nothing about the new change in attitude, although with each passing second, that resolve was slipping. He refused to take orders, the standing order being never to mess with her ship, and he constantly debated with her over any topic she wanted to discuss. Sometimes she got the sneaking suspicion that he actually enjoyed pissing her off!

Now whatever gave you that idea? A not-so-mysterious voice teased in her head.

"Ooh!" Mara fumed realizing she had neglected to keep her mental barriers up. She wasn't sure if she was angrier with herself for letting her guard down, or Skywalker for trespassing. Deciding on the latter, she punched the release button on the hatch to the main hold. She stormed to within a few centimeters of Skywalker and jabbed him sharply in the chest with her finger. "What have I told you about walking around in my head?" she raged.

"Not to do it," he replied casually. Then he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around causing her to yelp and elbow him in the stomach. "Ouch! Would you calm down? I want to show you something." He led her over to the beverage unit.

Mara arched a semi-tolerant eyebrow at him. "Yes?"

"Try to make something."

"You fixed it?" Some of the aggression drained from her voice. The latest argument had erupted when she had tried to make a cup of caf that morning and found Skywalker had reprogrammed the unit in an attempt to make some weird kind of energy drink. Not only had she ended up with foul smelling blue juice down the front of her jumpsuit, but the power coupling had burned out as well. Not wanting a repeat of this morning, she placed him in front of her and then punched the command for caf. Much to her satisfaction, a perfectly brewed cup of Reecee caf laced with énize appeared. Always suspicious, she turned to Skywalker with a wicked grin. "Taste it. I want to know it's the real thing and not space sludge."

Rolling his eyes dramatically, he took a sip of the steaming brew. Mara could barely contain her laughter as his eyes bugged out, and he nearly gagged on the offending concoction. She thought he might have even turned a tinge green.

Glaring at her, he forced himself to swallow. "I think space sludge adequately describes it," he retorted sourly. "How can you drink this stuff?"

"I'm impressed, Skywalker," she said between snorts of laughter. Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "Not many humans can handle that special brand of caf. Especially, not innocent farm boys such as yourself," she added sweetly, revenge extracted. Point for Mara Jade. She smiled triumphantly and sauntered away drink in hand to sink into the bench at the table set in a corner of the hold.

"So what's our strategy to get into this fortress?" Luke asked sitting down across the table from her.

She sipped her caf and nodded toward the cargo hold. "Karrde gave me an artifact he thought Guru might like. We go in, disguise ourselves as not-quite-respectable traders, and while we are negotiating terms, we do a little snooping around. Simple as that."

"Simple as that?" Luke shook his head in disbelief. "He'll see right through us, not to mention probably recognize us."

It was Mara's turn to shake her head disparagingly. "That's why we have disguises, smarty pants. And in case they see through our disguises, you can practice all your Jedi stuff by making us appear to be normal, run of the mill smugglers."

"I've yet to meet a smuggler who fits that description," he retorted.

"Besides," she added, throwing him a withering look, "you're bland enough to fit in anywhere." Then she let her eyes roam over his Jedi robes and amended her previous statement. "Of course you'll have to change that depressing wardrobe of yours. It's a dead giveaway."

"What's wrong with my wardrobe," he demanded defensively.

"Nothing! It's the biggest rage among all the monks of the galaxy," she replied sarcastically. Mara Jade: 2, Skywalker: 0, she repeated to herself vaingloriously.

"Well, what about you? You're not exactly an unknown, you know, swee-" Luke stopped himself, but not before Mara caught was he was about to say. He really has been spending too much time with Solo, she grunted to herself. She shrugged it off as Luke continued. "Your hair is a dead giveaway," he said mimicking her.

"Then I guess I'll have to change it," she countered smoothly. Mara Jade: 3, Skywalker: 0!

Oh, stop keeping score for crying out loud! Luke's voice echoed through her brain.

Mara nearly screamed in rage for being intruded on again. She could not figure out how he kept breaking through her mental guard so easily. She quickly recovered herself and gave him her classic evil grin. What's the matter, Skywalker, afraid you might lose? she projected at him. Another point for Mara Jade, she cried giddily in her mind as Skywalker was taken aback by her control of telepathic projection.

"Mara," he said just above a whisper, "you really have a gift in the Force. I can't even hear Leia that well. I wish you would let me train you."

Mara looked over at him, realizing he was going all serious and - Jedi - again. "Later," she said curtly, ignoring the obvious hope that had entered the Jedi Master's expression. "First, we need to get our roles straight." Luke looked confused for a second. Mara rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Background for our cover, farmboy."

"Oh," he replied catching on. "Smugglers don't usually work well with others. Most are loners. So how are you gonna explain about me?" He was getting cute again, Mara noted. She fought her ire down.

"You are my co-pilot," she said tersely. "It's common enough. Just look at Solo and the Wookiee for example."

"Wouldn't it be easier just to pose as lovers?" Luke asked in seeming innocence.

Mara nearly choked on her caf. She threw her most poisonous glare at Skywalker. If he had been any other man... Not in this lifetime, lightsabre brain! Within the recesses of her mind, she could hear mischievous laughter. Point for Luke Skywalker! he projected triumphantly at her.

Mara scowled. Never had she been so easily baited, though she had to admit that was not a typical Jedi Master comeback. Especially coming from possibly the most naive Jedi Master in existence. She needed to change the subject and fast. In a lightning quick decision, she shrugged off her flight jacket, grabbed her lightsabre and stalked toward the middle of the hold. "All right, farmboy, you want to teach me the ways of the Force? Well, let's start with some lightsabre practice." Skywalker gave her a curious look. "I'm feeling rather combative today," she added with a feral snarl.

Recognizing the open challenge her eyes, Skywalker went for his lightsabre. Before he had even unlatched his weapon, she was upon him, the blue-white beam of Anakin's old lightsabre searching for his blood. The lightsabres met in blinding flashes of energy. She parried and thrust, and he blocked her moves almost effortlessly.

"You haven't been practicing, have you?" he taunted.

Anger boiled the blood under her skin. She lashed out with a ferocious cry, coming at him with fierce jabs and slices aimed at his head and knees. He had not tried to attack yet, but she got the small satisfaction of hearing him breath a bit heavier than normal. Their surroundings melted away as they danced the intricate steps of the warrior dance that had been borne into their blood. They spun in flashes of energized light, using all of the cramped space that was available to them.

It had been painfully obvious from the beginning who would come out of this duel the victor. In a match that pitted seasoned Jedi Master against on again, off again Jedi Apprentice, it was not hard to see whose chances the odds favored. But if he wants to win, Mara told herself, he's gonna have to work for it.

Nearly a half an hour into the duel, Mara was perspiring and breathing heavily. Skywalker's face remained impassive. He seemed at ease and willing to take his time to conquer his impetuous opponent. The only satisfaction Mara got was the tiny bead of sweat that from time to time rolled down Skywalker's cheek. Mara was beginning to tire from the rapid onslaught of slashes and strokes she had been delivering. Skywalker seemed to sense this and chose to begin his advances. Mara was losing ground fast. The thought of losing and listening to Skywalker's boasting for the next several days gave her enough strength to hold against his advances, but not for long. She soon found herself moving backward again. Her muscles burned under the stress, begging her to abandon this ridiculous show of strength, but her pride refused to give in.

Skywalker was still advancing on her. He seemed to know her moves even before she did. She concentrated on clearing her mind of all thoughts and let down her mental barrier. If she were to win this battle, it would be with cunning and not brute strength. She found herself up against the wall of the hold with no where to go. Skywalker easily knocked her weapon from her hand. Expecting this maneuver, Mara flooded her senses with fear causing him to stop dead in his tracks. Before he could see through her charade, she side-sweeped him with a powerful kick across his knees knocking him to the floor. Pulling a vibroblade from a hidden pocket in her cargo pants, she pounced on his sprawled body and activated the blade perilously close to his larynx.

Skywalker lay on the deckplating starring up at Mara in wonder. She was still breathing heavily and shaking slightly from exertion. Slowly, a proud smile stretched across his face as he peered up into her ferocious, feline green eyes still fixed on their prey. Her pupils adjusted as her primordial instincts melted against the modern world that was slowly coming back into focus. "Nice work, Mara," Skywalker praised. "But don't expect that trick to work against me next time." Mara gradually became aware of her knee crushing Skywalker's torso against the floor of Jade's Fire. "Okay, can I get up now?" he teased from beneath her weight.

Despite the already rosy color on her cheeks from the battle, Mara's face turned a deep crimson as she realized she was nearly straddling Skywalker on the deckplates with a vibroblade against his throat. She hastily deactivated the weapon and scrambled to her feet. Skywalker seemed content to merely prop himself up on his elbow to regard her.

"I should warn you, Mara," he began gravely, "while acting on your instincts can save your life, lashing out from anger could lead you down the path to the dark side."

She looked down at him, hands on hips. "Oh, don't be such a sore loser," she chided and reached down a hand to help her opponent off the floor. She made light of the situation, but secretly, she lectured herself for letting her emotions get the better of her.