Chapters are sporatic, I know. Really sorry. I am really really busy. BUT, I wouldn't leave you hanging. Please review—feedback always boosts my spirits. Thanks and enjoy. T.

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All that Han could say for their living conditions was that the Imperials had not separated him from his wife. Aside from that, they had not gone out of their way to make his and Leia's cell fit for long-term occupancy.

Only a couple of hours in the small, damp cell, the room's sole source of lighting-—dim orange glowlamps dangling like creature innards from the ceiling—-had rendered Solo's vision next to useless. The icy, impersonal chill of vacuum pervaded the small room, suggesting poorly insulated metal walls and the fact that they were somewhere in deep space—- hyperspace, if Han's ears served him correctly. According to the subtle thrum coming from deep within the bones of the ship, and Solo's fairly accurate sense of time, they had been in hyperspace for about fourteen hours. He wondered, his nerves raw from the tricks his imagination had been able to play on him, where they were going, what was in store for them at the end of this tunnel.

The food was rotted. A tray had been shoved in a few hours before-—all of it unfit for human consumption. Solo wouldn't put it past the Imperials to drug the food for them. Unfortunately, they had to drink the water. But so far, neither he nor Leia had had any ill side-effects from the warm, bland recycled liquid.

Han shifted slightly, sitting, leaning his head against the metal wall, elbows resting on his knees. It wasn't himself he was worried about. He'd been in worse situations, gotten out of bigger pickles than the one he was in presently. But Leia was a different matter entirely. The danger his wife was in twisted a knife of worry and helplessness in the pit of his stomach. Concern for her caused recurrent panic to creep at the coattails of his consciousness, sometimes overriding his common sense. Having himself in danger was one thing. But Leia was another matter entirely.

"Hey," her quiet voice murmured from where she was laying on the cot. "Are you awake?"

Solo craned his head to look up at her. She had been queasy for a few hours, but dismissed his concern, saying it was only morning sickness. Sitting half-propped against the wall, she still looked uncomfortable and ill. Han silently cursed Palpatine and Vader and Luke for making her suffer like this.

"Yeah, I'm awake," he muttered, clenching his fists in balled-up frustration. "I'm awake."

"You haven't said anything for a while—-I was wondering."

Han shifted to face her, pressing his lips together and trying to get a clear picture of her in the bad light. "What's there to say, Sweetheart?"

Leia reached for his hand and held it in her lap, lacing her fingers with his. "I don't know. Say something—-it doesn't really matter."

"I'm hungry." He cocked his head up at her. "How was that?"

"It's a start."

"This is one of the first times I have ever found myself wishing for a ration bar."

"Mm," she nodded. "Who would have thought." She laid her fingers over his. They were cold. "Han?"

"Yeah, hon," Solo turned to face her, concern in his eyes.

"I love you nerf-herder. No matter what happens. I just want you to know that."

Solo swallowed a lump in his throat. He gave her cold hand a tight squeeze. "I love you too, sweetheart. We're gonna get out of here."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," she murmured. Her tone of voice was neutral. Her brows were knit over stormy chocolate-brown eyes.

Solo looked up at her, squeezing her hand again, wondering if perhaps she'd had a premonition he didn't know about. "I should have gone alone. I never should have gotten you into this."

Leia shook her head. "No Han, it's not your fault. I still would have come—even knowing what I know now."

"I never expected Madine to be right," Solo whispered. "And still, it's like getting kicked in the gut."

"I know," Leia nodded, dropping her gaze. "I know."

"Finding out that Luke joined those cronies is like having the kid dead all over again."

Leia stared at their twined hands. "No," she whispered, eyes wide and empty. "I'd rather see him dead than allied with Vader. This is a hundred times worse."

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She'd left strict instructions not to be disturbed by anyone save for the Emperor. The guards standing routinely outside her door knew to follow her orders and had done so. No one had bothered her for three days. Mara had spent most of the time in her quarters pacing, sitting, staring at her computer console, and feeling, for the most part, sick to her stomach. She could not stop her mind from racing, couldn't keep her imagination from conjuring up images and ideas to her mind.

It disturbed her more that the Emperor had not called on her in three days. He'd never done that before. But there was a first time for everything, she supposed. Her initial instructions from him had been explicit enough: don't even think about going near the detention cell that housed Luke's friends and don't ask questions.

She hadn't done either. At first it was in reaction to Luke's suspicions that Palpatine would kill Mara for aiding the Jedi's attempted escape. She didn't want to anger her master further than he was, for fear that she would be next, once he was finished with Luke.

Luke... She flung the Jedi's name from her mind once more, getting to her feet and resuming her pacing. The last she'd seen of Skywalker had been as white armored troopers carried him mechanically to the dark, yawning mouth of Palpatine's shuttle. She had been able to feel the Jedi's despairing fear as if it were her own. But only minutes after that, as she was numbly being directed to the second shuttle, his presence, like a single light in a darkened room, winked out.

They were still aboard the Conquerer, 30 hours away from Coruscant. Mara had gone as far as to locate the cell where Solo and the princess were, but nothing more. She didn't know where Luke was—-she had already scanned the prisoner listings to find that his name wasn't there. He wasn't being held in any of the detention blocks. For all she knew he was already dead.

Restlessly, she dropped into a chair again, fists clenched, her gaze fixed on nothing. Maybe a long, hot shower would help. She could soak in a piping hot bath and then swallow enough sleeping pills to make her insensible for the next thirty hours. Yeah right. She leaned forward, shutting down the faint blue glow of her computer console.

She jumped, startled, at the sound of the door to her quarters hissing open without announcement. The person who entered was definitely not the Emperor. Mara turned her chair to face the door.

"What do you want, Vader?" The black silhouette of the dark lord strode forward, ignoring her tone. "Don't you know how to knock?"

"I seem to have forgotten," was the scornful reply. He approached Mara as she got to her feet.

"What do you want?" she repeated. She wasn't in the mood for his company or his orders. She wanted to be left alone.

The Sith lord looked agitated and short-tempered, as if he was staring down a frightened deck officer who dared to defy him. "Why have you not answered my messages on the comm?" he demanded.

Mara put her hands on her hips and flashed a glare. "Why have you been calling me?" she retorted. "I left orders that I wasn't to be disturbed. Can't you understand basic, or did you just kill both the guards and decide you could barge your way in here?"

Vader looked perturbed. "Your guards are not dead. I came here to find out if you knew anything about the whereabouts of my son. And since you declined to answer my calls, I made the visit to—-"

"I don't know where he is," Mara cut him off, turning to glare at the viewport. "I don't know anything about it."

"Has the Emperor contacted you?" Vader rumbled. "Have you seen Luke?"

Mara crossed her arms. "Palpatine has ignored me. He can choose not to need my help if he wishes. I don't know where Luke is. He might be dead for what I know." She glared at him again. "You're asking the wrong person."

There was a silence as moved to the small kitchenette in her suite and poured herself a carafe of water. She downed the icy liquid in two quick swallows. Vader hadn't moved from where he'd been standing. She eyed him as she poured a second glass. "Can I get you something to drink?" she asked, barely managing to veil her sarcasm.

Vader ignored her jibe and clasped his gloved hands together in front of him. It took little imagination for Mara to picture him wringing his hands. "Thank you, but no."

"This is where your search has lead you," Mara murmured, taking another swallow and leaning tiredly against the high counter, not really caring anymore if she angered the dark lord or not. "Are you satisfied with what you've done to him?"

Vader only crossed his arms, dark polished eyes boring into her skull. "Why did you help him try to get away?"

Mara scowled. Did he need it spelled out for him? "I thought I might do him a favor and help him avoid the horrific nightmare he would live if ever he was recaptured by Palpatine," she answered.

"He nearly escaped."

"No thanks to you," she spat. "I hope you're happy."

Vader stood next to the viewport, still not visibly reacting her taunts. Mara supposed she should be surprised he hadn't turned her into rancor fodder by now. A blacked gloved fist touched the thick, icy transparisteel that stood between them and the empty vacuum of space as if preparing to angrily strike the viewport. "You care for the boy," he said quietly.

Mara stared at her own thin, white hands, tightly clutching the silver drink bulb. "Is that such an extraordinary concept?" she asked.

"It is a weakness," he answered. "A weakness Palpatine could have you killed for."

Mara eyed him. "A weakness I would think we both would share," she whispered.

Vader turned to look at her again, the polished eyes and steady breathing revealing nothing. But his hands were clenched in fists at his side. "I am not so proud that I can't admit that I made a mistake in bringing Luke into this," he said quietly.

Mara poured another glass of water. "It's too late for that. Admitting your mistakes is not going to help him."

"It's a start."

Mara didn't answer.

"If you find out anything..." Vader began, turning back to the viewport.

Mara tilted her head to one side, regarding him, contemplating vaguely the changes that seem to have occurred in him over the past several weeks. Surely Palpatine would have noticed it as well-—not much ever slipped past that putrid yellow gaze. It seemed neither of them was smart enough to realize or care about the danger they were in.

"If I find out anything about him, you'll be the first to know," Mara told him, pouring the last of her water down the disposal drain. She eyed the dark lord. "But don't hold your breath."

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