Oh come now—after writing 235 pages of this story, would I just end there? Your lack of faith disturbs me :) Though we are obviously nearing the end, it's not over yet—so enjoy (and thanks tons for all your reviews!) T.

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Mara turned back to the blackened hole in the floor, feeling numb. At her feet, Darth Vader lay prone. In the silence, accentuated only by the cries of the princess and the cold wind that blustered sporadically through the shattered windows, Mara could not hear the familiar sound of the dark lord's mechanical breather. Vader was motionless, the lights on his suit dark. Dead.

Mara bit her lip and crouched over Vader's silent form. *This is the price,* she thought bitterly, surveying the wreckage of the throne room. *The price for betraying Palpatine.* Luke was dead, Vader was dead. And she... She had willingly destroyed the only life she had ever known.

She wondered when the shock would hit her. She, Mara Jade, the Emperor's Hand, had aided in bringing about the demise of her own master. What kind of traitor did that make her?

*Have you ever wondered what side you would be on if you were given a choice?*

Luke had asked her that once when they'd walked through the botanical gardens. He'd probably had no idea how long those words had stuck with her. *And now that I've made my decision,* she thought bitterly, *it's too late.*

A muffled sound stopped her short, causing her to glance down in alarm. Vader stirred, moving his hand feebly up to the side of his helmet, black- gloved fingers grasping uselessly at the edges.

He was still alive. His voice, no longer amplified, was garbled and indistinct. Mara shook her head, leaning closer.

"I—I don't understand."

The dark lord's jerky movements became more frantic, struggling to remove his helmet.

Mara frowned. "You want me to take your helmet off?" she asked. Was he crazy? If she did that he would die. On the other hand, his armor obviously wasn't doing him any good. Time was short.

So, hesitantly, Mara reached forward, groping for the seals, carefully removing Vader's helmet from his head.

What she saw stunned her momentarily. Vader's skin was the pasty white of a face that had not seen sunlight for twenty years. Where hair should have been on his head, there was instead whitish scar tissue. *One of the Galaxy's most feared villains,* she thought to herself. *Reduced to a feeble, incapacitated old man*.

The white mouth stretched into a sad smile. The pale blue eyes—like Luke's, she realized—were full of tears. "Thank you," the old man's voice whispered. His expression was one of peace, free from the noose of servitude that had trailed him for twenty years. Mara swallowed. She felt the same eerie light in her soul—the absence of the oppressive pressure that had become as much a part of her as breathing. "Thank you," he repeated.

He gestured for her to lean closer, breathing laboriously as he tried to summon the strength to speak again. "Tell Luke..." he began, grimacing slightly. "That he was right....he was right about me." The dark lord paused.

Mara leaned in closer, not daring to breathe. "That boy," Vader began, grimacing in pain in the effort to speak. "He was stronger....stronger than I ever was." He squinted up at her again, sad eyes full of tears. "Please tell him."

Mara nodded numbly, feeling her throat close with tears. She did not have the heart to remind the dying father that his son was already dead. Stars, what had this battle finally cost them?

Vader closed his eyes. Mara could see what a supreme effort it was becoming for the old man to draw a breath. "Watch out...for my son," he wheezed finally. "Luke needs you."

Then with a final, slow exhale, Darth Vader died.

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Han and Leia had crouched behind a massive stone column, Solo sheltering his wife as well as he could, as the onslaught of energy swept through the throne room.

When the silence finally fell, it was the foreboding quiet of death. Han raised his head, peering out from behind their feeble shelter, to see what had happened. The Emperor was obviously dead. Anybody that could cause a reaction like that when struck with a lightsaber had to be dead. Much of the stone floor was torn up, lying in shattered pieces across the floor. Wafts of cold air made him shiver—the huge windows were shattered, leaving them open to the cold Coruscant sky, hundreds of stories up. Vader was nowhere to be seen.

Leia struggled to her feet, her features white and strained with the pain of the Emperor's lightning attack. "Luke," she whispered, eyes scanning the scene. She started frantically towards the spot where Han had seen his friend go down. The Jedi was still lying there, unmoving. "Luke!" she repeated, voice and movements more frantic as she approached his inert form. Solo knew, stomach twisting into tight knots, that his friend must be dead.

Leia was at his side, shaking him, calling his name. Han knelt at his friend's elbow, seeing the angry red energy burns traverse his arms and face, the blood, the bruises. Cautiously, feeling for a pulse, he held his hand a few inches from Luke's mouth, wondering if it was possible that the Jedi was still breathing.

He found a pulse, faint and erratic. "He's still alive," he whispered, disbelieving. He glanced around at the destruction of the throne room, remembering that they were in the top of the Imperial palace, at the heart of Imperial Center, surrounded by foes. "We have to get him out of here somehow." He shook his head. "We can...find a ship, get him to a base..." He wasn't sure if Luke had very much time left—they would have to hurry.

Klaxons suddenly broke the deathly silence with the blaring of deafening alarms. Solo jerked, wincing against the bright flashing lights as he got his arm underneath Luke's shoulders in preparatory to lifting the unconscious Jedi.

"Or not, now that the whole palace is on alert," Leia grimaced. "Whatever we're doing, let's do it fast."

"Right."

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Mara barely heard the alarms as she got to her feet, Luke's lightsaber still heavy in her hands. Doubtless, Palpatine had security measures set forth for the contingency of his life being in danger. In less than five minutes, the throne room was likely to be overrun with several squads of stormtroopers. Luke's friends did not have a chance if she didn't help them. Helping them was the very least she could do for Luke.

Solo was hoisting the Jedi, both he and the princess giving her guarded, wary looks as she approached. "Is he...?" she was almost afraid to ask, to know.

The smuggler shook his head. "He's alive. For now." Violent relief flooded through Mara at his words. "But we have to get out of here. Are there any options besides the front door and the window there?"

"Yes," Mara nodded. "There are secret passageways all through the palace. I have access to them. Hurry—follow me."

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