The Author's Notes: I'd like to apologize for the long and unexpected delay. Believe me, I didn't plan on leaving the story hanging like that. I've had the chapter done for a while now, but I've more than a few problems. Anyway, I'm back on track now and I promise to update more regularly.

Mara may seem a little out of character at the end of this chapter . . . I do apologize for that as well, but . . . the part was too much fun to write and I didn't want to chop it out. This chapter is shorter then I'd hoped, but it serves its purpose. Please enjoy! And do leave me a review if you've got a minute.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is copywrite its respective owners and creators (in this case in particular, Timothy Zahn and George Lucas). I have no intent of making money off of this piece (it wouldn't sell in the first place), nor do I seek to deliberately infringe on copywrite laws. This is just some fun I cooked up in my somewhat twisted little mind.

[thank you to the reviewers:] Julie, Hewgleymom, Urazz, Jedi-2B, Ariapaige, Jenna Marrd, Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu, kayladie; thank you so much! You all made me feel a whole lot more secure about writing this fic. Urazz, your comments were great! And I'm sorry for the scare, hewgleymom! This one's for you guys. Now, without any further ado . . .

Eye of the Beholder

Chapter 2

Six days of negotiations had passed without much progress, and tensions were running high. The talks were proceeding as peacefully as a Bantha birthing, neither side trusting the other. The New Republic was unyielding, the smugglers uncomfortable and impatient. Time, after all, was money, and the longer they sat in discussion with the hierarchy of the New Republic, the greater their losses. And things had come to a searing head after the smugglers had been dismissed from the day's proceedings.

Luke headed down the halls at a brisk walk. He hadn't attended the negotiations that day, having instead to assist the Rogues in a training exercise. He regretted that now, after feeling the outburst in the Force. As soon as he could, he gracefully dismissed himself from the Squadron's company.

He covered the ground between them quickly, and pushed open the door to the now-abandoned conference room. Or, mostly abandoned. As his eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting, he spotted a single, familiar figure.

Mara.

Her head was down, that firestorm of red-gold hair tumbling over her shoulders to mask her face. Those shoulders were slumped, but her fists were clenched, and her frustration was almost palpable. Slowly, as she became aware of his presence, her flashing emerald eyes lifted to his gaze and invisible lighting crackled between them.

For a moment Luke hesitated. Mara would not allow him to comfort her, that much he knew, but he couldn't just do nothing. Finally, he took a step toward her. Her eyes flashed again—dangerously—at the movement.

"Don't come near me," she snapped.

He froze, but did not lower his earnest gaze. "What did they say to you, Mara?"

"What do you care?"

The ice in her tone stung him, but the thought of someone upsetting her was enough to keep him there, seeking answers in spite of the jab.

"If they've treated you inappropriately, I can do something about it," he told her quietly. She sneered.

"I doubt you'd go so far as to discipline one of your own senators. Besides," she growled, "I fight my own battles."

Luke set his jaw and walked the last few steps to put her within arm's reach. He forced her to keep her gaze locked with his.

"I know that, Mara. You're the most capable, independent woman I've ever met. But you don't have to fight me—I'm on your side."

Mara's eyes sparked and she turned away from him.

"I don't need your sympathy or your help. If you think I can't handle Fey'lya, you've got another thing coming."

"Ah." Realization dawned in Luke's voice. "Fey'lya."

"Skywalker, I suggest you back off right now and mind your own damn business."

"These negotiations are my business. Look, Mara, I'm sorry I wasn't there today, but Leia and Wedge—"

She whirled, the sparks in her eyes igniting into flames. "I don't care," she bit out, and headed for the door. As she slammed her palm into the door's release panel, Luke spoke up one last time.

"He won't get away with this, Mara. I trust you, and so will the Board."

Those emerald eyes turned his way one last time before she disappeared into the corridor beyond. Luke stood for a moment in the silence, then left through the doors on the opposite side of the room, making for his apartment.

-*-

Talon Karrde was just as frustrated with the negotiations as his assistant. He sat in his quarters on the Wild Karrde, frowning. Mara had just contacted him with the latest news, if it could be called that. Really, all she'd told him was that things were still at a standstill, and several smugglers were threatening to walk out.

To make things that much worse, some people in the New Republic had decided to use Mara's shadowed past to their advantage.

Wearily, Karrde wondered if they should call the whole thing off. Mara would then be free to come back to work, and these frustrating dealings would be over. With the Wild Karrde only three days out from Coruscant, she could easily reach them and be back to work in five days.

Had this really been partly his idea? At least back when Thrawn was alive they'd all had a common enemy. Without even that, the whole arrangement appeared ready to crumble.

And perhaps they were better off that way. Or perhaps . . .

"Aves," he said suddenly, keying on the comm to the bridge.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Have someone prep the Etherway. When we get to the base, prepare a small crew. Then set course for the outer rim. I'll tell you more later."

"You got it."

Karrde leaned back and closed his eyes, wondering if this was the wisest course he could take. At the moment, however, it appeared to be the only course he could take.

-*-

While her boss contemplated a somewhat dangerous mission, Mara sat quietly in the apartment Leia Organa-Solo had found her. It offered a spectacular view from its western-facing balcony, and it had a spacious kitchen. Her room was quite large, too, and she was just a short walk from the turbo lift that could take her directly to her usual landing pad. But the beauty and relaxation her apartment normally offered was lost on her now.

No matter what Skywalker said, nobody in that room trusted her. Exceptions were few and far between—Han and Leia, and Karrde's employees. They were the only ones that put any value in her word. Not even the other smugglers thought her on their side, and that was Skywalker's fault. It was a difficult situation that backed her into a corner. Not for the first time, she wished she'd have left Skywalker floating in his X-Wing in space. Then Thrawn would have found him . . .

. . . and the Empire would have won.

She sighed and headed toward the balcony, those blue eyes haunting her thoughts. Skywalker was on her mind a little too often for comfort these days.

He certainly never failed to amaze her. He put so much trust in her—his assassin. His enemy. But there was respect and genuine farm boy faith—and that was slowly eroding her heavily fortified mental defense.

Mara grimaced as she realized he wasn't even horrible company. Oh, sure, they generally snapped each other's heads off and usually brought out the worst in both personalities, there was a sort of comfort in that no matter what, the New Republic's pillar would support even the old Empire's castoff. She wasn't sure how she felt about that—or her own reaction to his support. Was she getting soft already?

She shook her head and moved toward the balcony, letting her mind clear as the breeze tugged at her hair. No more Skywalker, at least not tonight. She leaned out, arms braced on the railing, and stared out over Coruscant as the sun slipped toward the horizon.

"Mara?" came a too-familiar, startled voice to her left.

"I don't believe it," she mumbled under her breath as she turned to confirm her suspicion. Yup, there he was, on a balcony just above her and to her left. Luke Skywalker, the bane of her existence, was living in a suite just above her.

"Hi, Skywalker." She tried not to make it too much of a snarl.

"Hi," he replied with a polite smile, and then looked back off toward the sunset once more and let silence descend once more. Mara couldn't believe it. He wasn't going to try and talk about the incident with Fey'lya?

She stood there, trying her best to ignore him and fully appreciate the fact that—for once—he wasn't talking a subject to death. It didn't last long.

"You're not talking," she said finally, craning her head to look up at him. Skywalker grinned down at her.

"I didn't think you'd want to chat."

"I don't," she agreed firmly, and sealed her lips. Skywalker's grin didn't fade.

"Then why'd you call up here?" he asked.

Mara rubbed her temples, feeling a headache come on. She looked up to snap a retort, but found he'd turned his attention to the horizon again. Mara watched him for a moment, then she moved toward the door. As she touched the door panel, Luke called down to her one last time.

"Fey'lya has dropped from the Board," he told her. Mara glazed up at him sharply.

"What did you say to him?" she bit out. Skywalker shook his head, regarding her with serious blue eyes.

"Nothing," he said. "You said you would handle it, so I didn't say anything. Leia told me tonight when I stopped by to see the twins."

"Convenient," she muttered.

"Whatever his reasons, it really rather is," Skywalker commented. "I'm sure things will proceed much smoother from here on out." He paused as if he were going to add something else, then shook his head and refocused on her. "That said, goodnight Mara."

He moved toward the entrance to his own apartment. Mara hesitated, thinking she should just let him go, not say anything, but gave into the urge as he keyed open his own door. "Goodnight, Skywalker," she replied.

He turned, looking a little surprised, but rather pleased as well. He offered her the first real smile he'd flashed that evening, gave a nod, and disappeared inside. Mara shook her head, wondering just what she'd been thinking, and slipped into her own apartment.

But Skywalker was wrong about one thing. The negotiations the next day were no easier, and in fact tensions had risen. Suspicion was evident on both sides; the smugglers were convinced Fey'lya left in a maneuver to make them drop their guards, the New Republic was certain that Fey'lya had been threatened in some way. Mara tried to reason with them, but there was nothing to it. No one was willing to listen to the former Emperor's Hand. Finally, Mon Mothma simply called a recess and demanded that they all rest for a few days before trying again. Mara shoved away from the desk she was seated at and stalked out of the room, feeling her temper reach near-meltdown proportions. Leia Organa-Solo had been passing by on her way to pick up papers from her office when she spotted the redhead. She jogged to catch up, brown eyes concerned.

"Is everything all right? How are things going in there?" she asked. Han had insisted on a maternity leave, so Leia was absent from the negotiations. She did know, however, that things were going roughly.

"Get someone else to be your damned liaison," Mara snapped, not even bothering to glance at the other woman. Leia frowned.

"It's that bad?"

"Worse. I say we should let everyone get back to their jobs. We're all losing money."

Leia's step didn't falter, despite the icy chill in Mara's tone. "We can't do that," she argued. "We need the ships and supplies too much, you know that. And the information the smugglers can give us is of the utmost importance. We're so close, Mara," she said, earnestness lacing her words. Mara could definitely see the resemblance between the Skywalker twins now—they had the same earnest gaze, the same hopefully desperate tone.

"It's not going to work. Nobody trusts anybody, least of all me," she told her darker-haired companion.

"I know it seems that way now, but you have to give it time and patience."

Mara's emerald eyes flashed. "Neither of which I have. I should be with Karrde, establishing a new home base and forging new contacts. Maybe running some trades of my own. Not here, with a batch of too-suspicious people who are unwilling to compromise. And," she added, her voice taking on a dangerous edge, "tell your brother to stop doing me favors."

Leia's chocolate-toned eyes looked confused at the last, but she nodded in spite of her bewilderment.

"I understand your frustration," she said. "Believe me, I do. Just keep trying for a while longer, all right?"

Mara slowed and regarded the other, assessing the request. Leia had no love for the ex-assassin, but she seemed confident in Mara's abilities, and had faith in the trust her brother put in the dangerous woman. And while Mara herself was tempted to tell the politician to shove off, she knew how much help the Smuggler's Alliance could be if they could come to an agreement. Slowly, she nodded.

"All right, I'll give it a couple more meetings. After that, no promises."

Leia beamed warmly, and suddenly her resemblance to her brother was much more recognizable. "Thank you, Mara," she said.

Mara shrugged off the gratitude and continued her walk toward the turbo lifts. Leia stared after her.

Maybe, she thought, Luke's got the right idea about her after all.

-*-Several Days Later-*-

"You know," Mara muttered, torn between annoyed and annoyed amusement, "you don't have to come to every session."

"The last time I didn't show up, Fey'lya acted up. Besides," Luke added with a slight smile, "someone's got to keep that wrist blaster of yours holstered."

Mara rolled her eyes and fingered the blaster he'd mentioned. She made sure Luke saw the movement, and caught his eyes watching warily. She couldn't tell if he was jesting or really nervous, but figured it was—appropriately—a mix of both.

"Well, you don't have to follow me around like this, Skywalker," she snapped, though her mild amusement stripped the usual fire out of the comment. Luke quirked an eyebrow, something tugging the corners of his lips involuntarily curl upwards.

"I'm well aware of the danger, Mara," he replied. "Look, as much as it's tempting to let you think that the only reason I'm going to the negotiations is to annoy you, there is another reason."

She eyed him, clearly skeptical.

"These negotiations are important to the New Republic, and to my sister. I want to be able to keep her updated. And," he added, those blue eyes dancing, "I have a feeling my services as a mediator might be needed, though the negotiations are restarting just today."

Mara shook her head and sighed, willing herself to be frustrated. It was hard, with him in such good humor and her as relaxed as she ever got. The break had done her good, as much as she'd liked to have denied it. And while she was still uncomfortable with him, his good mood was rubbing off on her. Only he had that effect on her--to share his moods with her—and it was something she wasn't used to.

"Look, Skywalker," she said with another eye roll, "that's all very well and nice, but that doesn't mean you can follow me around."

Luke glanced at her with wide, put-out blue eyes. "If that's how you feel, Mara . . . " He trailed off.

"Shut up, Skywalker," she growled, a reluctant smile finding her lips at his act.

"You keep saying my name, I'm starting to get paranoid." He flashed a little-boy grin and dipped into a slight bow. "See you inside," he added, and jogged over to some of the Rogue pilots also trailing through the hallway. Mara watched him go, wondering what the pilots were doing on this floor of the Palace. Luke had told her they avoided this hall at all costs. Shrugging it off, she made her way resolutely to the conference hall scheduled for the negotiations.