*****************
************************
**************************
*********************
He was dreaming again. He knew he was dreaming again.
Despite knowing this, the scenery around Luke did not dissolve or falter, and the sound of his footsteps was a hollow echo in his ears as he entered what he recognized as the lounge in the MILLENNIUM FALCON. Regardless of the fact that he was dreaming, the small hold still had the faintly musty smell of dirt and grease, and the recycled air was cool and clammy, making him shiver.
He moved to the gaming table, about to take a seat when the far door suddenly hissed open and he jolted in surprise: Leia entered, her expression warm and full of concern. She was dressed in a clean white jumpsuit and her hair was plaited into braids, draping elegantly, almost reaching her shoulders. She looked beautiful.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, coming forward to give him a quick hug. "We've been so worried about you."
Luke frowned, hugging her quickly back. "Fine," he answered, puzzled. "I'm just fine."
"Is your hand still hurting you?" she asked worriedly.
His hand? Luke glanced at his hands still on her shoulders only to pull away in shock. At the end of the right sleeve of his tattered khaki tunic, his arm ended at the wrist. Stunned, Luke glanced down at his clothes, at the torn pockets and tattered knees. His lightsaber was missing. His left hand flew to his cheek, feeling the cuts and bruises on his face. "What happened?"
Leia looked distressed. "Your duel with Vader," she told him, seemingly worried that he didn't know. "You were dangling from the underside of the city when we came to rescue you."
Luke stared at the tarnished durasteel floor. "Bespin," he whispered in realization. "This is about Bespin, isn't it?" Why was he dreaming about this now? It had been one of the darkest memories of his life, but he was over it, beyond having nightmares of this again. *Wake up, wake up.* a tiny voice urged inside his head. Nothing happened. He looked around for a place to escape, perhaps a secret portal to exit, but there was only his sister, still staring worriedly at him.
Suddenly he wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her for playing along with this hallucination. *It's a dream--only a dream!* his mind shouted. *Wake up!*
"I can't believe you came back for me, Leia," he found himself saying, instead. "You could have been killed or captured. You saved my life."
"It's what friends do for each other," she told him, grasping his one hand in hers. "And I know you would do the same thing for me."
Luke wanted to smile reassuringly and say, "of course I would," but a sudden wave of nauseating guilt washed over him and the words seemed stuck in his throat.
Leia seemed not to notice his hesitation as she went on talking. "You're so loyal, Luke," she praised him warmly.
"What do you mean?" he asked, puzzled.
She smiled kindly. "Well, take evacuating a base, for instance," she suggested. "If the Alliance was under attack from the Empire, I could never picture you sitting in your ship, watching idly as the Rebels got destroyed." Luke stiffened. She didn't seem to notice.
"Do you know one thing that I really admire about you, Luke?" She continued.
He didn't want to know. Dread suddenly took hold of his stomach and twisted it in a tight knot. He just wanted to wake up. But again, something else seemed to take control of his mind and he found his mouth responding without him. "What's that?" He asked.
"Just knowing that you would never betray your friends to the Empire, that you would never be so cold and cruel to do something as horrible as sending a fellow pilot to his death." Her dark, trusting, knowing eyes met his and Luke felt all the color drain from his face.
He took a shaky step backwards, his mind whirling. *What have you done? What have you done*
"But most importantly, I think," Leia went on pleasantly, "is the fact that you are so loyal to the Alliance. You would never abandon them. Without you, who knows if they would be able to hold together and not be destroyed? Loyalty is what defines real friendships--don't you think?"
Luke blanched again and she smiled, seeming not to notice his distress. But he could almost imagine that those warm brown eyes held a hint of vengeful menace as if quietly satisfied that her knife thrust had struck something vital. No, he was seeing things. "You're so wonderful and so loyal, Luke," she congratulated him again. "So loyal."
Nausea curdled in Luke's stomach and he shook his head angrily, not noticing the surprise on his sister's face at this sudden emotion. "I had to leave and to hide," he hissed, furious and outraged at himself for his feeble excuse. It was pathetic and selfish. What had he done by leaving the Alliance? None of his actions made any sense now. Everything his friends had ever done for him, every time they'd stuck their necks out for him and had gotten him out of a tight spot flashed before his eyes. There were almost too many to list for the accident-prone hotshot from Tattoine: The Death Star trenches, Hoth's barren wastelands and the underside of Cloud City were only a few of them. His friends had done so much for him-- could he possibly say that he had returned any of those favors? "I didn't want you in danger--I didn't want anyone to be in danger because of me!"
"So you say," she replied. Her voice was suddenly cold, her eyes hard. "You claim that being a hermit and hiding away will solve our problems and yours. But what you are obviously too afraid to admit--even to yourself--is that you are running away from your responsibilities and duties. You're running away, Luke! Betraying your cause and abandoning your friends to die."
"No!" Luke protested desperately. "No."
"If you ever stopped thinking of yourself, you might consider the grief your actions have caused us. Have you ever given thought to that? Of course you haven't. Luke, you are a traitor and a coward!" Leia looked angry and hurt all at once.
"No!" Luke whispered, wishing he believe his own protests. "It's not true!"
"Isn't it?" she asked, cocking a dark eyebrow at him. "Don't lie to yourself, Luke. You've betrayed us all." She took hold of his severed wrist and raised it like a testimonial to her words. Luke didn't pull away. He couldn't. "You lost your hand because you refused to join Vader and his Empire. Why didn't you spare yourself the inconvenience?"
"No!" he cried again, suddenly plunging backward into a bottomless hole, the scene of Leia and the Falcon shredding away while he sank into oblivion. His cavernous cry hung in the air, and her words repeated themselves in a maddening chant as he braced himself to strike the ground he knew must be coming.
He finally hit and pain exploded through his skull, his ears ringing. He clutched his head with a moan and squinted against the bright light stabbing his eyes. After a moment, he became aware that he was seated in a rather uncomfortable chair, and, as he cracked his eyes open, realized that he was in his own room, seated at the small table, and the lights were still on. The only sound was the rhythmic patter of icy rain against the darkened windows.
Luke groaned, rubbing the side of his head where he had struck it against the corner of the wall. He could not recall falling asleep in the chair, could not even remember being particularly tired as he'd sat there, carefully constructing components for a new lightsaber.
He eyed the shapeless mound of protruding wires and circuits that was the fruit of four days' work in his spare time. It was going to be a long-term project, but working with his hands kept his mind off of other things.
Slowly, Luke rose to his feet, ignoring the protests of a variety of muscles as he straightened from the chair. His stomach rose in protest too, and Luke quickened his pace to the refresher. He got there in time to vomit over the toilet, his insides twisting into miserable spasms.
Finally, he sagged back against the wall, all the details of his most recent nightmare flooding back in on him. The tiled wall was cool against his fevered temple, and the patter of rain against the transparisteel window seemed to grow more insistent. He checked his chrono: 0345. He sighed. To try to sleep would be out of the question. He needed to get out and away from the stifling suffocation he felt, to get his mind on something else.
Five minutes later, his boots on, thin parka zipped up to his chin, Luke stepped outside into the freezing rain. It had been a long time since he had gotten some exercise. With his leg healed the way it was, it was impossible for him to try jogging, but even a decent walk would do right now.
******** ************
The doors to the elegant dining hall on Vader's flagship were open as Mara rounded the corner of the carpeted hallway, flanked on each side by her annoying personal escort of two stormtroopers.
Vader stood as she entered, probably more to appear imposing than out of any courtly mannerisms on his part. "You're late," he rumbled, gesturing to the long, black polished table and the lone chair at one end that was waiting for her. "Sit down."
Guardedly, Mara entered, and the doors hissed shut behind her. Vader took his seat and cocked his head expectantly at her. "Are you waiting for something?"
Two serving droids entered through a side door, each bearing an enormous platter of food. Mara smiled caustically, her expression covering her unease. "Do you entertain all you collaborators this lavishly?" she asked. "If the purpose of dinner is so we can get all chummy and friendly working together, then that's real cute, but it's probably not going to work."
"You're trying my patience, Jade," Vader growled. "I am merely attempting to behave civilized toward you--no easy task, I can assure you. Don't make it more difficult for me. Sit down."
Mara took her seat with a reflexive glare at the Dark Lord. "Being difficult is what I do best," she replied, eyeing the serving droid as it dished a fair-sized portion of something that looked like noodles and shellfish onto her plate.
Vader was also served a heaping plate of steaming food, but he did not seem to notice--the dark eyes of his mask still watched Mara steadily. How would he eat anyway? She admitted that she had never given such a contingency much thought. She'd never seen Vader eat, and it wasn't likely that he was about to start now. He probably had the food to set her at ease. More likely, it was to unnerve her.
"So, what is it you wanted to talk about?" she asked, taking a cautious bite of her food. It was hot.
"I'm interested in hearing how the search for Skywalker is progressing," the Dark Lord responded. "I thought it best to hear it straight from you this time, instead of consulting those incompetent fools who like to refer to themselves as my intelligence team."
Mara took a drink of water. "You have been given the reports, haven't you?" she asked. "We have people combing Kinnear--and much of Dorsa for that matter--looking for Finsha Murdoch, but there's still no sign of him. It shouldn't be long, and when we do find him." she paused, glancing at the crystal goblet in her hands, pondering for a moment what that would entail. "He should be able to tell us everything we want to know."
"We are wasting time," Vader rumbled.
Mara tipped the glass at him in a mock salute. "Well," she murmured. "Patience was never one of your strong suits."
The dark lord smacked his fist against the stone table. "Excuses do not sit very well with me, Jade--only results."
"And you're so obsessed with finding your son, that it's never occurred to you what will happen to him after he's found," Mara said quietly, unfazed by his outburst.
"What happens to him is none of your business," Vader replied angrily. "Your only job is to do what I order you."
Mara bit the inside of her cheek to remind her to keep her to keep her temper in check. This was not the time to have a feud with a Sith Lord. "Parade whatever airs you like if you want a false sense of power," she retorted. "But I'll remind you who I take orders from, and the reason I'm cooperating with you is not because of any of your threats or your polite little luncheons."
Vader didn't reply.
Mara took another bite of her food. "Skywalker will be back in our hands soon enough," she said, eyeing the dark lord. "I just wonder what kind of father you are, that you could possibly want such a thing as this for your son."
********
Just so you know, I thrive on feedback. (
He was dreaming again. He knew he was dreaming again.
Despite knowing this, the scenery around Luke did not dissolve or falter, and the sound of his footsteps was a hollow echo in his ears as he entered what he recognized as the lounge in the MILLENNIUM FALCON. Regardless of the fact that he was dreaming, the small hold still had the faintly musty smell of dirt and grease, and the recycled air was cool and clammy, making him shiver.
He moved to the gaming table, about to take a seat when the far door suddenly hissed open and he jolted in surprise: Leia entered, her expression warm and full of concern. She was dressed in a clean white jumpsuit and her hair was plaited into braids, draping elegantly, almost reaching her shoulders. She looked beautiful.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, coming forward to give him a quick hug. "We've been so worried about you."
Luke frowned, hugging her quickly back. "Fine," he answered, puzzled. "I'm just fine."
"Is your hand still hurting you?" she asked worriedly.
His hand? Luke glanced at his hands still on her shoulders only to pull away in shock. At the end of the right sleeve of his tattered khaki tunic, his arm ended at the wrist. Stunned, Luke glanced down at his clothes, at the torn pockets and tattered knees. His lightsaber was missing. His left hand flew to his cheek, feeling the cuts and bruises on his face. "What happened?"
Leia looked distressed. "Your duel with Vader," she told him, seemingly worried that he didn't know. "You were dangling from the underside of the city when we came to rescue you."
Luke stared at the tarnished durasteel floor. "Bespin," he whispered in realization. "This is about Bespin, isn't it?" Why was he dreaming about this now? It had been one of the darkest memories of his life, but he was over it, beyond having nightmares of this again. *Wake up, wake up.* a tiny voice urged inside his head. Nothing happened. He looked around for a place to escape, perhaps a secret portal to exit, but there was only his sister, still staring worriedly at him.
Suddenly he wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her for playing along with this hallucination. *It's a dream--only a dream!* his mind shouted. *Wake up!*
"I can't believe you came back for me, Leia," he found himself saying, instead. "You could have been killed or captured. You saved my life."
"It's what friends do for each other," she told him, grasping his one hand in hers. "And I know you would do the same thing for me."
Luke wanted to smile reassuringly and say, "of course I would," but a sudden wave of nauseating guilt washed over him and the words seemed stuck in his throat.
Leia seemed not to notice his hesitation as she went on talking. "You're so loyal, Luke," she praised him warmly.
"What do you mean?" he asked, puzzled.
She smiled kindly. "Well, take evacuating a base, for instance," she suggested. "If the Alliance was under attack from the Empire, I could never picture you sitting in your ship, watching idly as the Rebels got destroyed." Luke stiffened. She didn't seem to notice.
"Do you know one thing that I really admire about you, Luke?" She continued.
He didn't want to know. Dread suddenly took hold of his stomach and twisted it in a tight knot. He just wanted to wake up. But again, something else seemed to take control of his mind and he found his mouth responding without him. "What's that?" He asked.
"Just knowing that you would never betray your friends to the Empire, that you would never be so cold and cruel to do something as horrible as sending a fellow pilot to his death." Her dark, trusting, knowing eyes met his and Luke felt all the color drain from his face.
He took a shaky step backwards, his mind whirling. *What have you done? What have you done*
"But most importantly, I think," Leia went on pleasantly, "is the fact that you are so loyal to the Alliance. You would never abandon them. Without you, who knows if they would be able to hold together and not be destroyed? Loyalty is what defines real friendships--don't you think?"
Luke blanched again and she smiled, seeming not to notice his distress. But he could almost imagine that those warm brown eyes held a hint of vengeful menace as if quietly satisfied that her knife thrust had struck something vital. No, he was seeing things. "You're so wonderful and so loyal, Luke," she congratulated him again. "So loyal."
Nausea curdled in Luke's stomach and he shook his head angrily, not noticing the surprise on his sister's face at this sudden emotion. "I had to leave and to hide," he hissed, furious and outraged at himself for his feeble excuse. It was pathetic and selfish. What had he done by leaving the Alliance? None of his actions made any sense now. Everything his friends had ever done for him, every time they'd stuck their necks out for him and had gotten him out of a tight spot flashed before his eyes. There were almost too many to list for the accident-prone hotshot from Tattoine: The Death Star trenches, Hoth's barren wastelands and the underside of Cloud City were only a few of them. His friends had done so much for him-- could he possibly say that he had returned any of those favors? "I didn't want you in danger--I didn't want anyone to be in danger because of me!"
"So you say," she replied. Her voice was suddenly cold, her eyes hard. "You claim that being a hermit and hiding away will solve our problems and yours. But what you are obviously too afraid to admit--even to yourself--is that you are running away from your responsibilities and duties. You're running away, Luke! Betraying your cause and abandoning your friends to die."
"No!" Luke protested desperately. "No."
"If you ever stopped thinking of yourself, you might consider the grief your actions have caused us. Have you ever given thought to that? Of course you haven't. Luke, you are a traitor and a coward!" Leia looked angry and hurt all at once.
"No!" Luke whispered, wishing he believe his own protests. "It's not true!"
"Isn't it?" she asked, cocking a dark eyebrow at him. "Don't lie to yourself, Luke. You've betrayed us all." She took hold of his severed wrist and raised it like a testimonial to her words. Luke didn't pull away. He couldn't. "You lost your hand because you refused to join Vader and his Empire. Why didn't you spare yourself the inconvenience?"
"No!" he cried again, suddenly plunging backward into a bottomless hole, the scene of Leia and the Falcon shredding away while he sank into oblivion. His cavernous cry hung in the air, and her words repeated themselves in a maddening chant as he braced himself to strike the ground he knew must be coming.
He finally hit and pain exploded through his skull, his ears ringing. He clutched his head with a moan and squinted against the bright light stabbing his eyes. After a moment, he became aware that he was seated in a rather uncomfortable chair, and, as he cracked his eyes open, realized that he was in his own room, seated at the small table, and the lights were still on. The only sound was the rhythmic patter of icy rain against the darkened windows.
Luke groaned, rubbing the side of his head where he had struck it against the corner of the wall. He could not recall falling asleep in the chair, could not even remember being particularly tired as he'd sat there, carefully constructing components for a new lightsaber.
He eyed the shapeless mound of protruding wires and circuits that was the fruit of four days' work in his spare time. It was going to be a long-term project, but working with his hands kept his mind off of other things.
Slowly, Luke rose to his feet, ignoring the protests of a variety of muscles as he straightened from the chair. His stomach rose in protest too, and Luke quickened his pace to the refresher. He got there in time to vomit over the toilet, his insides twisting into miserable spasms.
Finally, he sagged back against the wall, all the details of his most recent nightmare flooding back in on him. The tiled wall was cool against his fevered temple, and the patter of rain against the transparisteel window seemed to grow more insistent. He checked his chrono: 0345. He sighed. To try to sleep would be out of the question. He needed to get out and away from the stifling suffocation he felt, to get his mind on something else.
Five minutes later, his boots on, thin parka zipped up to his chin, Luke stepped outside into the freezing rain. It had been a long time since he had gotten some exercise. With his leg healed the way it was, it was impossible for him to try jogging, but even a decent walk would do right now.
******** ************
The doors to the elegant dining hall on Vader's flagship were open as Mara rounded the corner of the carpeted hallway, flanked on each side by her annoying personal escort of two stormtroopers.
Vader stood as she entered, probably more to appear imposing than out of any courtly mannerisms on his part. "You're late," he rumbled, gesturing to the long, black polished table and the lone chair at one end that was waiting for her. "Sit down."
Guardedly, Mara entered, and the doors hissed shut behind her. Vader took his seat and cocked his head expectantly at her. "Are you waiting for something?"
Two serving droids entered through a side door, each bearing an enormous platter of food. Mara smiled caustically, her expression covering her unease. "Do you entertain all you collaborators this lavishly?" she asked. "If the purpose of dinner is so we can get all chummy and friendly working together, then that's real cute, but it's probably not going to work."
"You're trying my patience, Jade," Vader growled. "I am merely attempting to behave civilized toward you--no easy task, I can assure you. Don't make it more difficult for me. Sit down."
Mara took her seat with a reflexive glare at the Dark Lord. "Being difficult is what I do best," she replied, eyeing the serving droid as it dished a fair-sized portion of something that looked like noodles and shellfish onto her plate.
Vader was also served a heaping plate of steaming food, but he did not seem to notice--the dark eyes of his mask still watched Mara steadily. How would he eat anyway? She admitted that she had never given such a contingency much thought. She'd never seen Vader eat, and it wasn't likely that he was about to start now. He probably had the food to set her at ease. More likely, it was to unnerve her.
"So, what is it you wanted to talk about?" she asked, taking a cautious bite of her food. It was hot.
"I'm interested in hearing how the search for Skywalker is progressing," the Dark Lord responded. "I thought it best to hear it straight from you this time, instead of consulting those incompetent fools who like to refer to themselves as my intelligence team."
Mara took a drink of water. "You have been given the reports, haven't you?" she asked. "We have people combing Kinnear--and much of Dorsa for that matter--looking for Finsha Murdoch, but there's still no sign of him. It shouldn't be long, and when we do find him." she paused, glancing at the crystal goblet in her hands, pondering for a moment what that would entail. "He should be able to tell us everything we want to know."
"We are wasting time," Vader rumbled.
Mara tipped the glass at him in a mock salute. "Well," she murmured. "Patience was never one of your strong suits."
The dark lord smacked his fist against the stone table. "Excuses do not sit very well with me, Jade--only results."
"And you're so obsessed with finding your son, that it's never occurred to you what will happen to him after he's found," Mara said quietly, unfazed by his outburst.
"What happens to him is none of your business," Vader replied angrily. "Your only job is to do what I order you."
Mara bit the inside of her cheek to remind her to keep her to keep her temper in check. This was not the time to have a feud with a Sith Lord. "Parade whatever airs you like if you want a false sense of power," she retorted. "But I'll remind you who I take orders from, and the reason I'm cooperating with you is not because of any of your threats or your polite little luncheons."
Vader didn't reply.
Mara took another bite of her food. "Skywalker will be back in our hands soon enough," she said, eyeing the dark lord. "I just wonder what kind of father you are, that you could possibly want such a thing as this for your son."
********
Just so you know, I thrive on feedback. (
