Author's note: Sorry for the slight freakiness of this chapter. I promise everything will resolve itself, and that at the end of the story there will be cake (if you're good). And all of you can come to my wedding.

Chapter 20

Max hated being interrupted, no matter what he was doing. Of course, being interrupted when Hanna was just starting to relax and let him hold her, kiss her...that was the worst.

One of the slaves entered without knocking. Max rose from the bed in Hanna's room in a fury, Hanna standing a moment later. "Is it tolerated," growled Max, yelling, to the poor boy at the door, "That a slave enter a master's quarters unbidden?!"

The boy, dark eyed and tiny, shrank back. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Winnick. I thought Lady Organa was alone."

Hanna put a hand on Max's shoulder, soothing him with a squeeze. "Calm down. It's not his fault–he's just a kid."

Max sobered. He was so interchangeably gentile and aggressive, sometimes understanding and other times quick to temper. It was the same when he was with Hanna. He wanted her in all ways that one person could want another–sexually, emotionally, possessively. Occasionally he found himself thinking of her as his own–as his slaves were his own, as his ship was his own, as the clothes he wore were his own. He wanted her to be so. He wanted her to kneel at his feet and do his every command. He wanted her in bed every night, grabbing him and tangling with him in fits of unfeeling passion.

But sometimes, and more and more often, he didn't feel that way. Sometimes, he wondered if he loved her–really loved her, not just wanted her or needed her. Sometimes, when she looked intently at him with her big blue eyes, he wanted to kneel at her feet and promise her everything...but what could he give her besides the things that LUX could? No. At times like that, he didn't need LUX, and he wanted something separate that he could give to her, a promise that he could make to her, but he knew that the only thing he could give her, that wasn't a possession, was he himself. For most lovers that would be enough, but he knew what he was. He was no Sith–Luke had been right about that–but he was somehow less. At least a Sith had some dignity, some resolve, perhaps. He had nothing. He had a quick, extremely polar temper, and an empty spot inside his soul. It could be filled, he supposed, by light or by dark. But he lacked the integrity for either, and he'd tried both. The light blinded him, and the dark frightened him. All he had...was nothing. And thus, he was not enough to promise to Hanna. And she would be a fool to accept any offer of love he gave her, for numerous reasons.

The most important reason was that he couldn't keep his promises, even if he meant them with all of his heart. The light tugged one way, the dark another. When he found himself changing directions, all bets were off. Anything he had said or done in his previous mood could no longer be trusted. He loved Hanna one moment, hated and wanted her the next.

That was why he took his opportunities to kiss her and hold her and talk to her whenever he could, now. Because he knew she would not stay. Hanna might act as if she was enjoying herself for a time, but he knew her heart. She wanted to go home.

"What is it?" he asked the child slave much more patiently, soothed by Hanna's touch.

"General Skywalker insists on seeing Lady Organa. Immediately."

"I assume that this was approved by Mr. Fae?"

The boy nodded, trembling. "It was he who ordered it, at the general's request."

Hanna had already stepped forward, and Max heard her mutter, "Finally," under her breath. She didn't give him a look back or so much as a good-bye as she followed the slave out the door.

That was the other thing about Hanna. He didn't know how she felt. She'd kiss him one moment and ignore him the next.

Max sat back on Hanna's bed, frustrated in every way.

It had been almost three weeks, Luke guessed, since he'd seen Hanna. She'd been off gallivanting with Max while he'd been a prisoner. He shook his head, opening a bottle of champagne. That was about to change. He'd meet Fae's demands and get her away from that unstable and frightening boy, and take Tirha, and get out of here. He saw now–the was no other way out, and after all, there was no real harm in helping these people, was there? They only killed if they had to–mostly only stole, from those would could afford it. No harm in that.

Hanna entered the room unescorted. Her blue eyes sparkled with innocent confusion, and a little annoyance. "You know," she spat as she entered, regarding the sitting Luke, sounding like both of her parents at once, "I wasn't allowed to see you, but you could have summoned me at any time. Why'd you wait until now?"

Luke let her irritation slide off of him. He took a small sip of the champagne and rose. "I've been busy," he said, as if it was somehow a justified excuse.

"Doing what? Drinking champagne and screwing that Twi'lek?"

Luke looked into her eyes, his own shining dangerously. "Doesn't sound too far off from what you've been doing. You know, you're just like your father–"

She marched up to him, infuriated at the insult to her blood, though not knowing why. It was then that she noticed that they were not alone.

She'd met Mr. Fae a few times since they'd arrived, and every time she was disturbed by his color choices in clothing. This time it was chartreuse and black. He stood by the mantle, a small stack of printouts in one hand. "Good evening, Miss Organa. Please, sit down."

Luke? What's going on? Hanna sent.

You'll see.

She sat carefully on the leather sofa beside her uncle, her blood running cold. Something wasn't right. Mom, she sent, needing a reply this time. Mom'd been bugging her all day with Force pets and inquiries to her well-being, and Hanna had only brushed her away. Now, she needed her to hear. Something was wrong with Luke–he didn't act like this. He was never cooly calculating with her, nor snide and defensive. The Luke she knew was always warm and sweet, though he could be stern. He loved her. This Luke...what had happened? Please, Mom. I need you and Han....

Luke must have heard her call, because he looked over. "No need to call for help, Hanna. It's all under control, now." He rose again, champagne flute in hand, to stand beside Fae. "I'm sure that once you give it some thought, you'll see it my way. You see, Hanna, this is only business. We're not hurting anyone." His bright smile caught her off guard. He usually only smiled like that when he felt completely at ease, when he was in a happy situation around family members. As Han had told her, on their way from Tatooine to Coruscant, there were two Lukes, the Jedi Luke and the farmboy Luke. The Jedi Luke was who he thought he had to be for the outside world. He was also the one that dealt with difficult situations and adversaries. Farmboy Luke, on the other hand, was what Hanna thought of as the real Luke, the sweet, caring, happy-go-lucky kid that her uncle turned into whenever he was comfortable enough. Usually only the farmboy smiled like that. To see that smile on his face as he said such unfeeling words made Hanna shudder.

"Luke, if you do this, you'll become like Max–all confused and empty...."

"Oh–but I thought you liked Max, Hanna," he jeered. He dropped the topic rather quickly. "I'm afraid Hanna will need some time to get used to the idea," Luke said apologetically, turning to Fae. "Perhaps we could postpone this until tomorrow?"

He nodded politely. "Of course. Good night, then, General. Lady." With a quick bow to each of them, Fae left the room, taking the papers with him.

Hanna watched him leave, still reeling from what was happening. Not Luke...never Luke. Luke always did what was right. Hanna knew that she could always look to him for guidance, confident that she could follow his example and never do anything harm, so much as to trample a blade of grass. He was so careful to take care of others that he usually forgot to take care of himself...and now....

"Luke...you don't mean it, do you?"

He sighed, sitting beside her. His cold demeanor melted, but his oddness, and strange politeness did not. The feeling that this was not her uncle did not leave Hanna. "I know this probably comes as a shock to you. I have been fairly puritan in my ways in the past, indeed of your whole life. But it doesn't have to stay that way, Hanna. I've enjoyed myself here. If I agree to their demands, they'll let us go as well as provide us with whatever we desire. I'll be able to take the Twi'lek with me...."

"To free her, you mean?" she asked, hoping the answer was a quite obvious yes.

The farmboy smile appeared again, as well as the laugh that sometimes went with it. "You're so naïve," he said, as if endeared. "Come on, Hanna. Isn't this what you want, to be with Max?"

She shook her head. "No. I want to go home."

She rose to leave.

"I know," Luke called after her. "And we will."

Mom....