The Author's Notes: I'm gonna say right off I hate how this chapter ends. I'm not sure why I hate how it ends, but I do. Also, I don't know much about politics, so you're forewarned if I totally screw something up, lol. And this may be a sin, but I tend to back away from the prequel stuff—so if I skewed some of the facts in the Lando part, feel free to point the inaccuracies out to me. The beginning of this chapter might be a little OOC, but it's main purpose is to establish Luke and Mara's bond in the Force. The fifth chapter should be up in a day or two (I'm on spring break so I'm pumping the chapters out while I've got the time). Thanks for the reviews, and please keep them up!

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:] ariapaige, Deja Know I've Been Lookin For Vu, person who left the dashes, Jedi-2B, and Zizziana; a big shout-out! Thanks for the reviews! Paige, you're more than right about the medcenter . . . and I just couldn't resist throwing it in there. Deja, sorry about that alliteration—I think Fey'lya should just plop dead, too ( . . . methinks poison . . . ). Jedi-2B, thank you so much for compliment—I hope it shapes into a believable story. Zizziana, your comments were very much appreciated. I'm so glad you like it, and I hope I continue to please.

Thanks again you guys! Onto part four . . .

Eye of the Beholder

Chapter 4

The pain started in earnest as Mara snapped shut her pack. It had lingered since the negotiation meeting, perhaps before, and her temples now erupted with the awful sensation. She knew she couldn't afford to be slowed down by it, however, and tried to put the shooting agony at the back of her mind as she stepped out of her apartment. Her reluctant companion had gone on to his apartment to gather his own supplies and weapons. She began walking to the turbo lifts that would take her to his floor, trying to keep the pain at bay.

"That's quite a headache," Luke murmured, rubbing his own temples as he stepped out of the shadows just to the left of entrance to her apartment. Mara turned to him, mildly surprised at his level of stealth, a bit more surprised that they seemed to be sharing the same ailment.

"How do you do that?" she asked quietly, trying again to work past the sledgehammer pain lancing through her forehead. Luke smiled a bit wryly, his blue eyes darkened to gray and cloudy with the same agony.

"I'm not doing anything. It's the Force—and we seem to be sharing a bond through it."

"Lucky you," she commented sarcastically.

"Lucky us," he shot back. "I'd be willing to bet it works both ways."

She shrugged, impatient due to her uncomfortable condition. Luke seemed to shake himself out of a stupor and jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the turbo lifts.

"Come on—I know a healing technique that will erase this headache. I'll teach it to you," he offered. Mara hesitated, then slowly nodded. She was afraid of the two of them getting too close—of having a friend in him. An ally, sure, but not friend. Considering their past, it would be highly inappropriate. Besides, she didn't want any further attachment with the New Republic.

She entered Luke's apartment, taking in the few belongings and various holos. A holo of his young niece and nephew had a place of honor on the wall, and Mara caught a ripple of affection from Luke as he caught sight of it. He led her to his couch and motioned for her to sit. They sank down on the well-worn piece of furniture together, and then Luke reached for her temples. She stiffened instinctively, but didn't flinch away from his touch. His warm fingers made contact with the pressure points, and his eyes lanced into hers.

"Just close your eyes and try to relax," he told her softly, the tension leaving his own shoulders and face even as he asked her to do the same. Mara did as he asked, forcing herself to release her own tension.

He walked her through the process, explaining what he was doing as he did it. Miraculously, Mara felt the throbbing pain ebb away, draining from her completely. Then she tried out this new skill on her teacher. He smiled as his headache faded as well, pleased that his instruction had worked and that she had so skillfully picked up the new technique.

"Thank you," he said, and left her on the couch while he stuffed a pack with his own supplies.

"It shouldn't take us more than a few days to reach the Rim, and Aves thinks he can point us in the right direction," Mara said, coming back to the reason she'd had a headache in the first place. Luke nodded, moving into his bedroom to grab a few things.

"The Rogues will be on standby—but they've got their own problems. I never thought I'd see them in the political areas of the Palace. There's a first time for everything, I suppose."

Mara stood and wandered around the living room, glancing at his holos as she passed them. "We won't need them."

"We hope we won't need them," he corrected, and reemerged from his bedroom with his pack full and securely shut. "But it never hurts to be prepared."

She let that pass without comment. "Ready?" she asked instead.

"Let's go," he agreed with a nod. They headed off for her landing pad.

-*-

Han frowned at the image in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. Before him, the image of Lando Calrissian frowned back. He'd interrupted the Solo's dinner to give Han some information about Fey'lya's recent—and questionable—activities.

"You have to admit it sounds like something he'd do," the darker man pointed out.

"I know. That's what bugs me so much," Han replied, sighing. "Fey'lya should have learned his lesson when he went after Ackbar, but to launch a slander campaign against Luke of all people . . . "

"Awfully convenient that he's off on another rescue mission, too—not even around to defend himself. Very sneaky how Fey'lya's using Wedge and you as a cover up while he goes after him," Lando commented.

"But why Luke? He can't threaten Fey'lya's power. And why now?" Han asked.

"Don't tell me Luke hasn't brought up the idea of beginning to teach new Jedi?"

"Well, yeah, of course. He is the last of the Jedi . . . But that can't be the reason Fey'lya wants to ruin him."

"Why not? There are quite a few Bothans that have had a strong distrust of the Jedi since the Emperor and Darth Vader began taking over the galaxy. Darth Vader was said to have been a powerful Jedi who turned evil after the demise of the planet Naboo. Naturally, if Fey'lya's part of that group, he'll use his power to sway the people against the return of the Jedi."

"Naboo?" Han frowned again. "Why does that sound familiar?"

"Leia's probably mentioned it to you. After all, Naboo is supposed to have strongly influenced Alderaan both politically and culturally as the power shifted to the Empire."

"And where did you glean all this information from, if I may be so bold?" Han asked, eyeing his secretive friend with a little suspicion. Lando shrugged.

"I've got contacts," he said mysteriously.

"Oh yeah? And who are they?"

Lando snorted and eyed Han a little incredulously. "You know better than I do that to reveal sources is bad business," he said, and Han shrugged.

"So why are you telling me this? I'm in hot water with Fey'lya as it is."

"You are, but Fey'lya hasn't found the courage to go after Leia yet."

"I see your point." Han paused, considering. "All right, I'll talk to her. But you'd better be damned certain of this. These are serious accusations, and if we're proven wrong Leia's reputation would be compromised."

"Don't worry, old buddy," Lando replied with a dashing smile. "When have I ever steered you wrong?"

"Would you like a list?"

The darker man looked wounded for a moment, but it was just an air and they both knew it. A second later, the entrepreneur had sobered again.

"Trust me, Han, I wouldn't put your wife on the line for nothing. I know that this could put her bid for Presidency at stake, and that's why I'm telling to keep this information very quiet until we can back it up with solid proof."

"How'd you know Leia wanted the Presidency?" Han asked, blinking.

"Like I said," Lando replied, flashing that debonair smile once again, "I have my contacts. They told me she was considering taking over when Mon Mothma steps down. Anyway, I'll talk to you later, buddy. I've got a business to run."

"Yeah, see ya," Han replied, and shook his head.

He's never out of the game long, he thought as he trailed back into the kitchen.

-*-

They had Wedge over for drinks that night, and the dark-haired pilot looked about as miserable as Han had ever seen him. Until the proceedings were over, he was effectively grounded, something that never failed to bring the normally-jovial man down. Like a fish out of water, Wedge couldn't be out of the sky for too long before he started to crumble.

"I'm so sorry about all of this, Wegde," Leia said as the drinks were poured. "You don't deserve it."

"I just thought that whole situation had been dealt with months ago . . ." The pilot sighed despondently. "I feel bad for the Squadron. They're grounded too, thanks to me."

"This is not your fault, Wedge," Leia argued. "Besides, Fey'lya won't manage to get the funding pulled--your Squadron has saved this government far too many times for that to even be an option."

"Thanks Leia," he said, smiling warmly at his old friend. He could remember the early days, when she'd been so distant—the Royal Princess of Alderaan, untouchable in her white robes of state. Beautiful, and on a level somewhere far above the rest of the Rebellion's rabble, she had always represented the cause that they'd been fighting so hard for. Now that she'd made that cause more than a dream, he realized how much it had taken out of her. She looked tired, fed up with the petty disputes. He knew she'd never admit it, but when Thrawn had been around, she had regained a bit of the old fire that used to color her steps. She must have felt useful again, doing some real, hands-on fighting. Since his death, that had drained away in political squabbling over just how to handle the aftermath of the latest crisis.

"We'll have you back out there with the stars in no time," Han added, interrupting Wedge's thoughts. He dove into his drink like a man lost in the desert.

"What bothers me is that Fey'lya's pushing ahead with the court martial though he can't have a very strong case. Karrde and Bel Iblis saw to that during the battle. So either he's drudged up some ancient law that empowers him or there's something else going on here," Leia said. Han cleared his throat.

No time like the present, he thought, and opened his mouth to plunge in.

"I think I know what he's up to," he said slowly. Wedge and Leia turned their attention to him, surprised.

"Well?" his wife urged.

"Well, we think—I mean, I think—that he's out to discredit Luke."

Wedge exchanged a glance with Leia, and Han could see their hesitation. He continued.

"I know how it sounds—I didn't believe it either, at first, but La—I don't think that Fey'lya's comfortable with Luke's plans to bring the Jedi back into the galaxy."

"I know that Fey'lya's got no lost love for Luke," Wedge said as he considered the idea, "but are you sure that's why he's court marshaling me and bringing up charges against you two?"

"We both know that there are a lot of beings out there who would rather not see the Jedi come back," Han pointed out.

"And you think Fey'lya's one of those beings." It wasn't a question. Leia's eyes were thoughtful as she tried to think of anything that would link the Bothan to anti-Jedi activities.

"I think it's pretty likely, considering the circumstances," her husband agreed. "But we should worry about Wedge's case first. After all, the kid blew up the Death Star, defeated Darth Vader and the Emperor, and has become the figurehead of the New Republic. Fey'lya's gonna have his work cut out for him with this one."

"You're right," Leia agreed, and turned to Wedge. "Any idea where Captain Virgilio might be?"

Wedge smiled, catching her meaning. "Actually, I think it's Major Virgilio now, and as a matter of fact, I do know where he is. But it'll mean a road trip."

"Don't you worry about that," Han told him casually. "We'll have this court martial dropped in no time."

"Thanks, guys," Wedge said again, and proceeded to throw back his alcohol, feeling better than he had in days.

-*-

Luke slid into the co-pilot's seat of the Starry Blaze, glancing at the elaborate control panel. From the outside, the ship looked like a hunk of junk. The inside, however was another story. Karrde's people had rigged it with every possible technological advantage available, making it a state-of-the-art frigate, ideal for defending some of the more sensitive cargo his organization tended to transfer. Artoo-Detoo had been comfortably slipped into his hatch behind the cockpit of Luke's X-wing, which was tucked into the Blaze's largest hold. Though Mara had argued against bringing the droid along, Luke had been insistent. Artoo had saved his life on numerous occations and had more than proved his worth in the years that Luke had owned him. Where the Jedi went, Artoo followed—whether Mara liked it or not.

Speaking of . . . His gaze drifted to his left, where Mara sat in the pilot's seat. She was mapping out a route to one of the temporary bases Karrde had set up since losing the center of his operations at Myrkr. Her hair was braided and covered by a nondescript, tan hood that ended at the neck and shoulders of her skintight, black jumpsuit. Goggles hung loosely around her neck, and her arms were bare. A utility belt was strapped low across her hips. Her face was a blank mask, veiling her thoughts in mystery. She looked just as she had when he'd first met her, but most of the hatred was now gone from her bright Force-sense.

"How are we doing?" he asked amiably, hoping a little conversation would lighten the mood. She'd been stonily silent since they'd taken off, and that was hours ago.

"The course is almost plotted," she said, her words clipped. Luke sighed. So much for friendly conversation.

"And Aves is meeting us there?"

"Yes."

He fell silent again, then his eyes dropped to the lightsaber—his father's lightsaber—hanging from her belt.

"When your done with that," he offered, smiling, "how about a sparring match? You're pretty good with a lightsaber." When she didn't answer, he continued. "You could probably use the practice—your form needs some work. And I could teach you some—"

"Look, Skywalker, the only one doing any teaching around here will be me, got it?" she asked, eyes flashing with competitive aggression.

"So does that mean we're on for the sparring match?" he asked hopefully.

"I accept the challenge," she agreed, and punched the course specifications into the nav computer. "Let's go."

-

He quickly discovered that Mara was a force to be reckoned with. She had quickly made him work up a sweat, giving him a solid run for his money. He'd flounced her during their first match, but she'd made a strong comeback in their second. He marveled at the level of training she'd received. She'd obviously picked up on his style of battle after only one match and used that knowledge against him. Still, he managed to beat her again, and offered his hand to help her up.

"You learn very quickly," he said admiringly. She glanced at him, curiosity flickering across her sense as she rolled to her feet without his aid. Luke pulled his hand back without a word, then rolled his shoulders and re-ignited his lightsaber. "Again?"

She lit her own lightsaber and tapped it against his lightly. Her green eyes flashed, a haunting color behind the blue-white blade. "You're on."

She was fast, even after two matches, and struck first. She never started a match the same way twice, so every move was unexpected. Luke sidestepped the jab and took a swing at her, and as she moved to parry he threw his weight in the other direction and swept the blade low before she could connect. She managed to jump the sweep and brought her own blade down as Luke slammed his saber up in a brutal block.

She spun away to recover, bringing the saber around for a back-swipe. He ducked the swipe and then flipped over her head and swung around himself. She dropped her torso back, the blade missing her by mere inches. She knocked it away before he could bring his arm back across, then leapt back to give herself room. He charged at her, but she sidestepped gracefully.

They continued on in this fashion for quite some time, until they were both panting for breath. He finally managed to pin her against the wall with his blade at her throat.

"You're quite imaginative when you fight. Do you think you could teach me some of the moves you pulled? I never saw Yoda pull moves like that," he added with a smile.

"If you're talking about the Yoda I've heard stories about, you might be surprised," Mara replied, moving away from the wall when he backed up. She was surprised he hadn't insisted on teaching her new saber techniques.

"Thanks for the workout," he commented, hooking his saber back onto his belt. He glanced her way. "Would you like the fresher first?"

She shook her head. "Help yourself. I'll go second."

He paused as if he wanted to argue, then decided it wasn't worth it and headed down the hall. When he'd disappeared, Mara glanced down at the weapon in her hand. With a sigh, she clipped it onto her belt and moved into her quarters. Sparring, she decided, would probably help her vent her aggression toward him. She just hoped she never slipped.