A/N

This begins the second part of the story which is a bit of a whirlwind through the New Jedi Order.

I'm really trying to write from the bottom-up i.e. the war of the Vong from the perspectives of the OC's ...what that means though is that it'll also be a new perspective on certain events dealing with our fav. characters...

I tried in each section to bring in at least one character from the wider world...

i.e. in the first post...its Mara and Luke and Cilghal...

This last parts formation came b/c of what i'm doing in RL right now. I am a graduate student in Public History...and we've been learning about trends in history and how it used be told from the perspective of "Big White Men" (as in famous white men) and how ever since the advent of social history in the 1970's they/we have been trying to shift the focus to look at how the people felt about life and events to find out how they lived.

So..you will see the influence in this one with me trying to look at the war from the perspective of some people who weren't on the front lines...but had a place in the war...

Also...This story along with To Honor the Dead and Changing of the Guard began to some extent with how I thought Mara found out about her disease. Eventually as you will notice my OC's took over, and her "discover" became a part of the larger narration. Enjoy. Review Please...

Timing for Post 7

Two weeks after Leia's speech, four months since the events of Crisis at Crystal Reef.

A few months prior to Vector Prime and the invasion of the Vong.

All timing is speculation based on allusions made on the timeline/VP about Mara's illness and the timeline of the disease. I've kind of assumed that (obviously) Mara is an anomaly.

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Post 7

The galaxy spins and time whirls by…

Two Weeks Later

The exhaustion was finally hitting her. Keladry Stanton sat bleary eyed and stared at the screen in front of her, eyes flickering to the time and mentally calculating what was left of her shift. There was no way she was going to meet Nestor and Tristan for dinner that night, because thirty minutes from now she was going to go home and finally get some sleep.

Slipping the latest file from Corellia into the proper datastream, she flipped open her comm and begun entering Nestor's commcode before pausing.

If she cancelled tonight, it would be the third time since her mother's death, in fact she had not seen them at all since her return from Mon Cal. She could almost hear Nestor's chastisement about stretching herself to thin, but she had to work. Accepting the offered leave would give her time to think.

Something she desperately was trying to avoid.

The slight vibration tickling against her palm broke Keladry from her thoughts, and it took her a second to remember that her commlink had been programmed to run on silent so as to not disturb patients.

She thumbed it on, "Dr. Stanton."

"If you have a free moment, the healer in room 3323 requests some help." The soft voice of the receptionist came over the tiny speaker.

Healer? Curious, Keladry punched off the monitor before replying. "What is the patient name?"

"She wouldn't say," the voice paused for a moment. "It is Jedi Healer Cilghal."

Involuntarily Keladry's eyebrow's raised. "I'll be there in a moment."

The silence of her temporary office gave way to the medical facilities reception area which was exhibiting its normal amount of organized chaos typical of most medical centers. So far, of course, she had been lucky. There had been horror stories of those in NREMAT who got sent from place to place every month before their two year contract ran out. Maybe partially due to her mother's condition, NREMAT had been kind enough to reassign Kel to the center where she had worked towards her degree. Almost as if on autopilot, she was able to slip back into the routine with ease. Or maybe it was because her job was not complicated; rather it was a matter of slipping into her training. One night a week she was in charge of the ER, while on other days she ran triage with the nurses and worked with her own private patient load.

Last night had been an ER night, followed by a day filled with patients and research requests from fellow NREMAT doctors. She had seen her last patient an hour ago and had been finishing up some paperwork. Weaving her way through those still waiting she reached the admit room and tapped lightly, before stepping through quickly when the door slid open.

It was just a moment, a ripple of a second where Keladry recognized the second occupant of the room. Healer Cilghal was fairly recognizable in the medical community, but her patient, rather who Keladry presumed to be her patient, was a legend. Quickly gathering up her wits, she introduced herself.

"Master Jade Skywalker, Master Cilghal. My name is Dr. Stanton, I was told that you needed some additional aid?" Before letting them answer she noticed the clammy pallor of Mara Skywalker's features. Taking out her stethoscope and measuring kit, Keladry stepped closer. "Master Skywalker, if I may?"

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Mara grimaced when Cilghal finished her exam, noting the worried expression on her face. "It's not the Corellian Flu is it?"

Cilghal's bulbous eyes blinked cautiously before she replied. "No." She pulled out her commlink and spoke softly for a few seconds before elaborating. "Mara, how long have you been sick?"

She shrugged, "On and off for the last few months, but it's been intermittent." Mara frowned, "I had thought, at first that maybe…it was something else, but now…"

Cilghal laid her arm on Mara's. "Wait before you jump to conclusions. I have another doctor coming in who may know more than we do…" There was a light tap on the door and Mara looked warily as the woman came forward. Her skin was tan, and lines of exhaustion, augmented her hazel eyes. She clearly recognized Mara, surprised to see her there, but covered it as she introduced herself as Dr. Keladry Stanton. Then in a moment that Mara dreaded, her expression changed, schooled into an almost imperceptible mask that she had come to associate with medical technicians.

It's just the Corellian Flu…

"Master Skywalker, if I may?" The woman held out her stethoscope and other unfamiliar measuring devices.

Silent, Mara nodded, her mind racing with all the things she had to get done before returning to Yavin IV tomorrow. She inhaled when told to inhale, exhaled when told to exhale, but remained disconnected. It's just the Corellian Flu.

"Master Skywalker?" Her voice was gentle. "I need to ask you some questions, and then I think I may have to send you to a specialist. All right?"

She asked the standard questions and then pulled out a datapad, on which she made a few notations. "Is this a correct list of some of your symptoms? "

Mara glanced them over, nodded, then bit out "Yes. Can you tell me what's going on?"

Ignoring her tone the doctor smoothly continued. "One more question. Have you, in recent months traveled to Corelllia, Monor II, the Delphi, or Dantooine?"

"Monor II." In the back of her mind, Mara felt a twinge of fear, as if the Force was confirming what the doctor was going to say.

"How about, Nexta, Rodia, Bordien V?"

"No."

The small woman exchanged glances with Cilghal who nodded and then she settled herself into the chair next to Mara's bed.

"I work for the New Republic Emergency Medical Aide Team, NREMAT."

"The catastrophe doctors." The statement was flat, neutral, reserved.

Slightly amused, despite the seriousness of the situation, the doctor nodded. "Yes, the catastrophe doctors. In recent months we've been dealing with cases across the galaxy of patients who have been sick, with symptoms mimicking common illnesses.

And then within two-three weeks every single one has succumbed to an unidentifiable ailment. " Kel frowned, choosing her words wisely. "From what we have been able to compile, those seven locations are common, along with a wide swath of symptoms from medical records. Unfortunately we are still unable to come up with a single vector for the disease."

Mara jumped up, shaking her head. "Epidemic? I would know if I were that sick…." She trailed off as Cilghal laid squeezed her arm.

"Mara, you need to listen."

Keladry looked at her patient, no longer masking her concern. If the Jedi Healer felt that this was serious, then it was of utmost importance that the Jedi Master get help, immediately.

Shaking her head in outward denial, though a part of her had already confirmed the diagnosis, Mara took a step towards the door, suddenly swaying with lightheadedness. She was a Jedi. She never got sick. If you don't count blaster burns…but that was what healing trances were for. Carefully, refusing the proffered help from the two doctors, she sat back down onto the bed. "No one has survived?"

The doctor seemed to hesitate, not knowing whether to answer the question, but the intensity of the Jedi Master's green eyes changed her mind. "No. But I didn't say that you have the disease. They won't be able to tell you for sure until further tests are done."

Shaking her head, with an element of fury, Mara was adamant. "They don't need to do them. I know." She sighed and turned to Cilghal. "I need you to do the following. Keep it quiet. Then get me an appointment with the specialist, after which you and I are going to try and identify this menace and destroy it."

Cilghal nodded, "Mara, you need to call Luke." The woman was holding her feelings so tight, that even the healer couldn't feel them, but she was sure that at the moment Luke Skywalker could sense that something was wrong, merely by the absence of his connection to his wife.

"No!" the Force directive in that response caused the cup next to the bed to rattle. Things are going too fast. She took a deep breath, reaching out for calm. "I'll tell him later, when I'm ready."

Dr. Stanton stood up, trying to calm her down. "There's no point in telling anyone until you want to, although I suggest you tell your husband soon. Remember, you need to make sure that this is what you're up against. Absolutely sure. "

The Mon Calamarian healer nodded, "Yes. I will also need a copy of the data that NREMAT is compiling. It may help."

Keladry nodded, "I'll go get it for you right now, the research team meets in this building."

She watched as the two Jedi rose, with Cilghal supporting the younger woman. Mara shook off her help, inhaled and before Keladry Stanton's eyes, all traces of illness vanished from the woman's face. She recognized that the Jedi was using the Force, but also worried about the woman's knee jerk reaction to combating her illness alone. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it when she caught the imperceptible shake of the Mon Calamari healer's head, so instead, Keladry tipped her forehead in farewell to Mara, "May the Force be with you Master Skywalker."

Sardonically, Mara Jade Skywalker smiled, "And you Dr. Stanton, and you."

xxx

Tristan Romani leaned towards the screen and ran his finger along the mitochondrial wall of the cell he was looking at. "Nestor, what file are you looking at right now?"

"Well, I'm currently organizing the Z series." Nestor looked up from his work and swiveled around in his seat, only to find himself staring at the back of Tristan's head. "Why?"

"Do any of the in the ZX subdirectories include a cell makeup?" His voice was muffled yet intrigued.

Turning back toward his file, Nestor tapped the interface, "Let me check," he pulled up the patient database. "Yes, Doctor, ZX 153432, and ZX 142232 both have a cell makeup. I'm sending them to your unit now."

A beep from his computer notified Tristan of their arrival, and he quickly pulled them up in a three-way split with the one he was currently looking at. "That's odd…"

"What's odd?" Tristan jumped at the closeness of Nestor's voice before answering.

"They all have this variance within the mitochondrial wall. As if something biological was tearing it apart."

"We'll have to ask the bio-data team to run a check for us….maybe we'll be able to finally identify this death trap…." Nestor trailed off, unable to see what Tristan was referring to on the screen. Having no medical background he was sorting files by region, cataloging the patient data to come up with a specific symptomatic data for doctors to use as a reference.

Tristan looked at his friend grimly, "And once we identify it, then we can construct a way to fight it."

The commlink on his table beeped and Nestor reached over and flipped it open. "Alluvia here."

"Nestor, its Keladry."

Nestor's eyes met Tristan who nonchalantly turned away from the images before him to listen in on the conversation. Nestor smirked inwardly. Maybe there's hope for the two of them after all…

Shaking his head, Tristan gestured for the comm.. "Dr. Stanton, you're not canceling on us again are you?"

"Noooooooooo……" Her answer was stretched out, reflecting her intention to say the opposite.

"Keladry!" Tristan was exasperated. "What's going on?"

"Hold that thought. First, I just sent a patient here on Coruscant up to the staff, and I need a copy of the datastream for the healer."

Nestor reached over to his unit and transferred the data packet to a holodisc. "Nestor's on his way. Where should he meet you? "

"Outside the elevator bank, Level 77. I'm sending you the new patients bloodwork..."

Tristan's eyes followed Nestor's retreating back before he turned to the images again. That tear in the wall... "Kel, what about dinner?" Where have I seen this construction before?

"Um…how about we meet at my place?" There was some hesitation in her voice, before she admitted quietly, "I'm exhausted." There was a rustle on her end, "Tristan, there's another call, hold on a second."

She came back a moment later, "That was my mother's physician. She says I need to see her when my shift is over. So when you and Nestor are finished, just come by my place. Pick something up on your way."

Sithspawn Tristan's heart leapt to his throat, and suddenly unable to breathe he answered mechanically. "Sounds good, I'll see you then."

"Bye" he clicked off the comm, and leaned back in his chair, his head pounding.

The last time he had seen this construction, was when looking at the cell makeup of one of his patients on Valdet. At the time, no one on Coruscant had any answers and the disease probably would have killed her had it not been for other circumstances.

He ticked off locations in his head, as to where they had traveled prior to her sickness. None of them matched up. How did this happen?

Maybe it was a trick of his memory, and unfortunately all of his records, even if he could contact someone to retrieve them for him, had probably been destroyed when the bomb hit his home.

Except… not all of his records had been on Valdet. Knowing he would change his mind, he flipped open his comm and typed in the code before he could think…

He didn't know what to think.

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On his way back up from meeting a hurried Keladry, Nestor pulled holodisc packet that had arrived the day before in the mail, slipping the first into his datapad.

The first message was from Syla Intindola, and Nestor could not help but evoke an image of the pretty nurse in his mind. Small in stature, but strong in will she had the remarkable skill of calming even the most agitated patient by her kind words. Her dark russet hair offset her pale complexion which was highlighted by a constant blush upon her cheeks. He smiled to himself and keyed in the passcode.

Nestor,

I'm not entirely sure how to phrase this, but thought that now is as good a time as any to express how lonely Tatooine has been since your departure.

I miss talking to you. Thanks for the lovely evenings, and I await the moment when, perhaps, more eloquently, I can tell you how I feel.

Syla

PS: This holodisc arrived for you from NREMAT HQ. Hopefully it contains the long awaited news of your daughter.

Nestor grinned to himself, remembering those nights walking her to her quarters, when Syla had coaxed him into talking about himself. His life was a life of service, to Elbereth's family and now to Tristan's, and no one, save Elbereth, had ever asked about his family. He told Syla about Isabelita and his grandchild, and remembered the curious look on her face when he explained how Alden wasn't his grandson by blood, just in his heart. At the age of thirty-seven, Nestor had never been in love, never had time for love—besides his lovely Isa, which of course was different.

Nevertheless he saw what Syla was trying to say and was surprised to find that he felt the same way.

Slipping in the second disc, right as the door to the elevator opened, he stopped short, shocked. It was a message from Isa about recent events on Valdet and Danshitie. He had sent a short update before they left Tatooine about how to contact him, but he never believed the message would reach her.

Numb, he was still reading when he hit the entrance code to the research room. "Doctor, I got a message from home."

No answer.

"Doctor?" He looked up to see the doctor frantically scribbling on a datapad, while staring at an image on the computer.

Tristan looked up at his friend with widened eyes. "Just a second Nestor."

Nestor nodded and continued to read. Mara Jade Skywalker retrieved the tablet. Koi and Sian being questioned. A new government…Proof of the over clan… Things are stable…

"Nestor,"

The older man looked up at the sound of his name, standing to peer over Tristan's shoulder at the screen. He may not have been a doctor, but he could tell that this cell makeup had been severely ravaged. "Who is this?"

Tristan gestured to the screen, aghast. "This…" he released his breath and inhaled again. "This was…" He struggled to say her name after so many months of avoiding it. Trying again he stuttered. "T..this was… Elbereth." He stumbled over her name, "Elbereth after being sick for far more than two weeks." He pointed to the distinct ripple in the mitochondrial wall. As if to fill the silence he went on, "I knew the construction looked familiar and once I made the connection I contacted the center that I had asked to analyze her blood here on Coruscant." He hit a key to pull up another window and pointed to the three files that he had been looking at before. "And this…is after only two weeks. After each patient had died"

He hit another key, "And this is the new patient, the one that is exhibiting symptoms but has yet to be severely affected." The tear was there, perhaps not as evident, but clearly deteriorating.

Nestor blinked, seeing the similarities, but lacking the medical knowledge to understand the implications. "What does this mean?"

Tristan shook his head, unsure. "Based off of this and what information we have compiled, Elbereth had the same disease as the others, just less…virulent." Each time it got easier, but still he looked down at his hands, blinking back the tears that still threatened him. "It took her longer to die, whereas the form that these two beings," he quickly looked up the other two other files, to regain composure, "both non-human, was more aggressive. Almost as if it was sentient and knew which organs to attack." He scrolled back to the new patient. "Now patient 1138 here, her history indicates that she had been sick for almost as long as Elbereth, but the tear in her cellular makeup is only at the initial stages."

Nestor frowned, "None of it makes any sense, maybe we should go up and see this patient."

Tristan frowned, "We'll try to get more information out of Keladry, because I doubt that Patient 1138 will want to be bombarded after finding out that she has a fatal disease."

Blinking, the bodyguard silently berated himself for his insensitivity. "Of course doctor. What do we do next?"

Grimacing, Tristan pulled his coat from the back of the chair and slipped it on. "I don't know. I really, don't know." He set his lips together in a thin line. "But if I can't figure it out, than we'll find someone who can. We'll tell the researchers upstairs about this and head on out. Maybe they'll make some headway before tomorrow." He made it to the door before Nestor's words from earlier caught up with him. Whirling around gaped at his bodyguard…and found Nestor frozen, looking down at a data pad. A look of wonder fused on his face, the expression a picture of constructed calm.

Hesitantly, allowing himself some hope of good news Tristan reached for the datapad. Disbelievingly, strangling out the words. "Nestor….did you say you got a message from home?"

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I know. Where was Tristan's hardened determination, his anger from two months ago? Where was my fear?

Tristan had grown adept at hiding his feelings, at least the ones dealing with Iker Rafagr. As predicted the trail for the villain grew cold. Now the daily rhythm and routine of work sustained the good doctor, not as distraction, but rather, as a means to find a semblance of peace. His anger no longer burned, raging in fury. Nor did it lay dormant near the surface, spiking at each reminder, at each failure. Instead, despite finding the connection to his wife's illness, or even learning of my sorrows, the anger buried itself, deep within the core of his being. This anger, more dangerous, more bitter, remained hidden, hidden to all but Tristan. He knew of its existence, of course, covering it well. He chose to bide his time, allowing for a level of normalcy, some feelings of joy. Meanwhile, the anger whittled away at his soul, because we know that feelings of such magnitude never remain suppressed for long.

As for meI chose to hide my fear, again. On Mon Cal I could focus on my mother, knowing that my trail to her had not been hidden, predictable. In some twisted sense, knowing that he was probably on planet, watching me, felt…safer. I lived each day for those months expecting a card, expecting the evil to rear its ugly head. So I would be ready when it did. Every day for those eight weeks Tristan and Nestor made sure I was alright, anchoring me to sanity.

But my mother's death changed all that, and my fear returned compounded by two clear indications that life is not stable. Somehow, despite the only recent peace with the Empire, I had always felt safe knowing that Leia Organa Solo was there to lead us, to be the vanguard against the enemy. Now someone else would take her place. Secondly, although my conscious recognition that they were not gods, the Jedi stood as a moral and undeniable shield countering insidious threats. Mara Jade Skywalker's illness proved that she, and thus the Jedi, was mortal.

I was waiting for something to happen. I waited for that sharp pain reminding me that things could get worse.

Then, without warning, it did.

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Incorrect passcode.

"Shavit," Her hands shook as she punched in the code to her door again. "Shavit, Shavit, Shavit."

Incorrect passcode.

"Calm down Keladry, calm down." Down the hall from her the lift pinged, and she froze, her head snapping to the left. Staring intently at the open doors, she sagged, shrinking against the wall her back to the door, willing herself invisible, but no one stepped out, she was safe.

Relieved she turned back to keypad and wiped her sweaty hands upon her slacks. Raggedly breathing she tried to steady the shaking, punching in the code with deliberate and sharp strokes, with success. Silently, the door slid open bringing the cool air of her climate controlled home.

After two weeks of living on Coruscant, Keladry had yet to begin unpacking or making the apartment seem remotely lived in. Apart from a few ceramic trinkets she had never really realized how bleak and uninviting the interior seemed. With deft movements, dragging herself through, Keladry secured the door behind her. She turned towards the empty room, fighting back the expected tears, before testing the lock on the door. Twice. Her eyes had been dry earlier when her mother's doctor broke the news, and they remained dry. Within the comfort of the office, she found herself not surprised by the autopsy results, and expected her emotions to return once in the anonymity and isolation of her home.

But no tears came. Instead, there was white fury—perhaps something akin to a murderous rage, an irony considering. The weight of her bag felt pressed against her chest digging a hole into her heart.

"ARGHHHHHHH" The sound of her voice was loud, even to her, and somehow, in an action atypical, she found her bag flying out of her hand…soaring…soaring…soaring slamming against the wall. Kel watched without care as the bag knocked over a ceramic vase, her mind horrified yet satisfied at the same time. She needed to destroy something, to relieve herself of this madness boiling inside…the grief was enormous, and something she wasn't sure she could contain.

Bzzzzzzzz

Startled, Kel turned towards the door announcer, letting out a short scream before slapping her hand across her mouth. The force of the silencing, and her crossed legs upset her balance, and she found herself toppling forward to her knees. For a moment she sat there, before crawling and reaching above her head to hit the intercomm. "Who is it?"

"Surprise Kel! It's us!" Six months had gone by, but the bittersweet memories of semi-security on Thyferra rose, tantalizingly to her brain.

There was a sarcastic groan over the intercom, drowning out Minali's excited chatter. "And by us she means, Ignace, Minali, Natir and Illghazi."

Involuntarily, Keladry started, feeling lightheaded. Terror. Anger. Shock. Joy. Suppression. In a space of thirty seconds emotions had been turned upside down, shaking her to the core. "Wh..What are you doing here?"

Ignace's drawl was unmistakable, "I don't know Kel…maybe to visit you?"

I can't just leave them outside. Your feelings can wait, don't let him restructure your life. She started quickly, aware of her babbling, feeling a level of urgency. "Oh! Oh! Just a second… give me just a second." Turning Kel ran into the bathroom and splashed some water over her flushed face. She took a minute to steady her heart, recognizing that she couldn't do anything about the redness in her eyes. In that minute she shoved her grief and anger deep down. Her friends didn't want to hear about her bad news, especially since they still were unaware of her stalker.

Hurriedly, she ran back to the door and let it slide open, plastering a smile on her face. "Sorry! Sorry! Come in guys!" She hugged each of her four friends taking in how each of them had changed.

"Minali! Your hair, it's blond! I don't think I've seen you in that color …ever!" She exclaimed and laughed when Minali made a face at her…

Illghazi swung his arm around Kel's shoulder squeezing lightly. "She's been dating a politician, has to look normal for the holo's."

Minali blushed, "Yea, why don't you tell her about you and Natir and your little bundle of joy."

Kel turned around to look at the Rodian's face. "What?"

Illghazi smiled and rubbed his palms together. "You're looking at the proud father of a three bedroom flat in sector 4."

Dr. Ignace groaned, "Did you actually think he was going to be a real father! Noooo way, he's way too immature for that."

Natir stepped away from the balcony to stand beside her husband. "You never know Ignace…." Her eyes were mischievous as she turned towards her friend. She's too thin, and has been crying. "You look fantastic, darling. Working yourself to the bone I suppose, but there's nothing new about that!"

Minali sidled up beside her, "I bet her secret admirer would still think she was a knockout if she were wearing a bag."

Keladry stiffened, and then shrugged out of Illghazi's embrace. "Have you guys eaten? Are you hungry?" She was aware of how she looked, frazzled and disorganized, but could not stop herself.

"Ravenous," "Starved," "Food!" it was a chorus of affirmations.

"Give me a second and I'll put in an order." Kel moved into the bedroom to find the numbers for the delivery person. And took a moment to sit down and catch her breadth. Just make it through the night. The anger won't be going anywhere. You can deal with it later…

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Without Keladry in it, the living room lapsed into silence. Minali and Ignace glanced at one another with a measure of worry. The recent blonde mouthed, "She doesn't look good," across the room. Standing next to the bedroom door Natir shook her head, equally silent, her gaze stern. Not now. She leaned over to pick up the duffel bag and files that were lying haphazardly next to the couch, nearly stepping on a small chipped ceramic vase. That's odd, Kel is normally so careful about her things…

Bzzzzzz

The four friends looked towards the bedroom, but Kel still hadn't come out.

Shrugging, Natr hit the intercomm, "Who is it?"

"Food! What else!" The voice was amused.

Behind her Illghazi muttered in wonder, "Coruscant delivery sure is fast!"

Minali elbowed him, "Don't act smart, buddy."

Rolling her eyes, Natir unlocked the door and it slid open.

Standing in the hallway were two men. The taller one was built, with an aquiline nose, while the shorter had dark hair…..both in dark slacks while the second was holding onto a medical coat.

"I'm sorry, this is Keladry Stanton's apartment isn't it?" Tall frowned, leaning back to check the number next to the door.

"Yes….and you are?" Her eyes were quizzical.

The younger man looked up, "We didn't know she had a roommate. Sorry, Tristan Romani, and this moron," He pointed his thumb towards the taller man, "is Nestor Alluvia."

Natir started, leaning forward to take a look at this laughing young man, not convinced of his identity.

Nestor laughed, recognizing the Rodian from the hospital on Thyferra. "Ignore him, he's normally not so articulate, but we just got some good news from home. Is Kel back from her appointment?"

Before Natir could respond Kel's voice came from the bedroom. "Ok guys, I've ordered us a bunch of food, so you better not have been lying when you said you were hungry."

Natir looked back and must have motioned to her friend who arrived at the door a moment later.

Tristan took one look at Keladry's face and knew something was wrong. "Hey, Kel. It seems pretty busy in there. Do you want us to come back later?" He ignored the look of astonishment on Nestor's face.

She motioned them in, her eyes betraying what her upbeat voice hid. "No, of course not. We had plans, no reason why it shouldn't turn into a party. The more the merrier." Her face twitched, masking some pain that she obviously wanted to express but could not…

Satisfied that they were not leaving, Nestor squeezed by, holding up the food they had brought, giving Tristan a knowing glance. "I'll go stick this in the kitchen." He looked at the Rodian waiting behind Keladry and gestured with his hand. "After you."

Natir frowned, looking at Tristan and Keladry with suspicion. "I'll introduce you to the rest of us, although I think you've met us all before, on Thyferra."

Sidling by Keladry, Tristan waited for her to close and secure the door before leaning forward for a quick hug of greeting. He was surprised when she held onto him for a millisecond longer. "What's wrong?"

Keladry pulled back as if uncertain. "I'm sorry I keep doing this. First on Tatooine, now…"

Tristan looked over her shoulder at the living room where all her friends were. "You want to talk about it?"

"Not here, I was hoping that you and Nestor would know what to do next. The inspectors are going to call in a few hours."

"Inspectors?" Tristan noticed the slight tremble in her hands as the griped his sleeve.

Keladry bit her lip, clearly about to lose whatever control she had on her emotions. She took a step towards the living room intending to go into her bedroom, but she crumpled, her legs giving out.

Cautiously watching her movements, Tristan's arms shot out, barely catching her before she hit the floor.

"I..I…I…" Her voice was ragged, incoherent.

"Breathe, Kel. Breathe." Tristan, looked at her flushed face worriedly, before looking around to see if he there was anyplace to make her sit down. In his half crouching, half standing position he leaned back toward the wall, cradling her against the floor. "Kel?"

"They said, that , said that…death, not natural. They said…" As if realizing she was mumbling and losing control, conscious of her proximity to Tristan she pushed up against his chest finding support in the back wall, her knees held tight against her chest as a panacea.

His arm still encircling her shoulders, Tristan was hesitant. "Did something happen at your appointment tonight?"

She nodded and her head dropped to his shoulder. Almost inaudibly she explained. "The security tapes, from my mother's room. They caught someone medicating my mother ten minutes prior to her death…" Keladry felt disconnected, not sad—she had known her mother would die someday, but frustrated that he had broken through the walls she had built after Tatooine.

Of course in her state of mind, Kel could not be sure whether the he she was referring to was her stalker or Tristan Romani.

Sensing her consternation, Tristan began rubbed her back, "It's all right, you're safe. Don't worry." He must have slipped a toxin into Mrs. Stanton's bloodstream.

Steadier now, "Tristan, the video feed was fuzzy. They hadn't focused the monitors yet, so we can't identify the mmmmurderer. But the picture, before her alarms went off showed him putting a black ccccaarrrd on her bedside."

His hand froze in the middle of her back. "Did they get the card?"

"The inspectors have it…he's here. On Coruscant." The anger leaked out. And she shoved away from him. Standing shakily. "Tristan. He. Killed. My. Mother." Her fists clenched, and her voice rose. "He killed her!"

For a moment while she caught her breath, Tristan was conscious of the silence in the adjoining room. As he pulled himself up, he reached out to calm her, but she continued yelling.

"I left Thyferra to keep everyone safe. And now they're here, I'm here, and my mother is dead." She groaned, dropping her head into her hand, her voice dropping. "And I'm so tired…"

Nestor stood hovering worriedly in the doorway. Tristan gestured for him to hold on a moment, and then gently pried Keladry's fingers from her face. "I think you need to sleep, you'll be in no condition to help to the inspectors unless you rest."

She stared into his grey eyes, entreating plaintively, "How could I? I can't stop thinking. I can't stop seeing her, seeing the letters, the pictures…" Even while talking, the burst of energy that accompanied the anger was deflating, and the exhaustion from earlier in the day was returning. "I'm tired, but I still won't get any rest…."

Wiping the dampness from the tears, Tristan lightly chastised her. "You know as well as I do that if you're not getting enough rest, sometimes it's better to force your body to accept it." He took a breath. "Go with Nestor and lie down, I'll be in a moment with something to help you sleep."

Kel nodded, and almost zombie like moved through the living room. Part of her wanted to stop and say something to her friends, but she couldn't muster the energy to lift her head.

Tristan too, forced himself to ignore them, rummaging through the bag until he found the medication that he was using to sleep, measured out half the dosage for Keladry for her weight and then moved towards the bedroom. From corner of his eye the blonde haired female stood as if to follow him into the room, and he held up a hand to ward her away. "Wait. First let Kel get some sleep. Nestor can explain part of what is going on and then I will come out and tell you what she just told me. You need to be prepared with the full story before she wakes up, or you won't be able to help her when we are not here." He paused before going inside. "For what it's worth, I am sorry about my behavior on Thyferra, and hopefully you can trust us…trust me."

Before he entered the room, Nestor stepped outside, laying a supporting hand on his arm. As their eyes met, Tristan recognized determination in his eyes.

Moving close Nestor asked, "Is it true?"

"That's what her meeting was this evening, the inspectors are supposed to stop by later." His eyes flickered before he added, "He left his calling card." He tilted towards the group behind him. "Tell them everything, as much as she knows. They need to trust us, or whatever we plan tonight will not be of consequence." With those words he stepped inside the room, fed Keladry the pills, and then spread another throw over her now peaceful form.

Unbidden, he leaning forward and brush kissed her forehead, whispering a promise. "We should have taken better care of you, but from now on we will." Then setting his shoulders, Tristan reentered the living room, prepared to find a plan that would end this, once and for all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Skywalker apartments, Coruscant

Night.

Guardian of hidden desires, zealous protector of lovers, cruel proprietor of the unknown.

Full of possibilities, and yet sometimes so cold, so empty of hope.

Despite her earlier determination, her confidence of success…

Mara was afraid.

And almost nine hours after her mid-afternoon appointment, nearly half past two in the morning, she found herself standing outside the door to her home not sure of the direction her life was taking.

Treading quietly, Mara slipped through the entryway, past the kitchen toward the bedroom she shared with Luke. As she stepped lightly up the stairs the incandescent flashes of a muted holovid against the living room wall caught her attention. In the flickering din, washed out color reflected off the artificial lighting, revealing a darker hand shaped spot on the coffee table. Recognizing the glove for Luke's prosthetic hand she traced the outline of the couch, making out the top of his head against the pillows.

Coming around to the front of the couch, Mara found her gaze resting on Luke's prone form. His face, creased with worry lines, smoothened out in sleep, while his light breathing reignited the butterflies in her stomach.

Mara loved him too much to destroy their happiness. If there was a way to freeze the moment, place it in a bottle to bring back at a later date…..

But there was not, and Mara, never one to back down from what needed to be done, re-opened their marriage bond, reaching out for the lightly sleeping form before her.

Luke.

His answer was ready, wry, and somehow restrained. Welcome back.

Sometimes, being without contact reminded Mara just how much a part of her soul that Luke Skywalker was. His presence was intoxicating, and refilled her very being with light. Light, desperately needed.

She had made a decision, and hoped that the light would remain.

xx

Luke slowly swung his booted feet around, so that he was sitting up; watching silently as Mara slid herself onto the couch next to him. Despite the reopening of their bond, she sat away, unseen in the shadowy recesses not touched by the eerie lighting from the holo.

As he reached for the control for the set, he kept his voice quiet. "Lights low." Immediately brighter, still hewn with grey and shadows, the new light swept the room. He could sense that it gave her the comfort of darkness that she desired, yet flooded her with the possibility of luminescent hours to come.

Turning to her, he was taken aback by the still features, devoid of emotion; closed off except in their bond. "Mara?" He chose his words carefully. "Would you like to talk about it?" He knew it was fruitless to ask. She always came when she was ready.

Shaking her head, Mara's lips turned up into a rueful smile. Letting out the air she had been holding, the Jedi Master shrugged. "I went for a walk."

His eyebrows raised…"A walk?"

She nodded. "A walk. I got back from the hospital a few hours ago, and decided I wasn't quite ready to tell you.'

Luke nodded. "I felt your conflict. I knew you would come back, in your own time."

"Luke." Her tone grew serious, and for a brief moment her eyes closed in pain. I will beat this. "I am not well. I have not been well, and after today, it's a possibility that I will not be well for a long time to come." In the brief silence that followed, neither Jedi felt the need to acknowledge the possibility that she would not get well.

Luke glanced at her, his reaction betraying no surprise. "I know."

Sharp accusing green eyes met his grief-stricken, yet determined blues. "You talked to Cilghal."

Luke reached over picked up the glove from the table before him. "When you didn't come home right away, I grew worried. I knew you weren't injured…." He trailed off and then restarted. "Today, I knew something was wrong. I could feel echoes of your aches, and your astonished anger….I always respect your privacy Mara. She did not tell me anything that I could not read from her expression and her subtle suggestions to prepare me." He leaned forward to grasp her hand, surprised to find her moving it away from his reach. Feeling her determination he moved back, shuttling whatever hurt he felt as insignificant to the larger problem they were facing.

Internally steeling herself, Mara brushed a few strands of her hair out of her face. "Luke. You cannot fight this disease for me." Her tone was adamant. "I love you, and I always will love you. But I think…I know that this is my fight." There was a slight tremble of her lip, "We talked to the medics. I can go on all the meds they have to offer, but since they do not know exactly what they are up against, all of them are speculations. Since, I have already fought this thing with the strongest flu meds and force healing trances, Cilghal is going to try and develop a protocol that will leave me with the strength to carry on the fight, alone."

I know my body better than anyone." She let slip an inch of humor, "Including you."

Hesitantly Luke met her eyes, unsure of whether he should fight her decision, while knowing at the same time that it was the only way. "Not alone, Mara. Never alone. You have to agree not to shut yourself away. I will be there for you, Leia will be there for you as will Han, the children, and our friends. Let us be your strength and support." Maybe this is what your vision was about?

I don't know, maybe…Mara shook her head, weakly insisting, "no one outside the family can know." No coddling, I can beat this. I will beat this. At this point she reached through the Force for him, understanding that she would have to give in, for the moment. Letting go of her pride, she fell easily into his embrace.

"Mara, you cannot fight this alone. Maybe each battle will be a struggle between you and the disease, maybe…but you need support. Let us be your support." Luke was soft in his reprimand, his plea to not be shut out…"We can make sure that the extent of the illness is kept quiet for as long as possible, but only if you trust us."

She was silent, before grasping and squeezing his hand in half hearted concession. "I asked to be shown pictures, Luke. They showed me comparative images of my cells, showing how so far, only two patients have survived past two weeks of the onset of symptoms." She wondered whether to voice out her fears. "The first is in a medcenter on Coruscant, and is rapidly failing…"

"And the other?" He asked, even though he knew the answer, could feel that while she had embraced him, another part remained inextricably out of reach.

Instead of replying immediately Mara called out "Lights up." Blinking back the spots she took in the details of the room, seeking to remember the brightness of their lives, knowing that things would be hard. From the colorless carpeting to the iridescent hues of indigo and orange that accented the nerf-leather couch upon which they sat. Like splashes of warmth, an ocean of comfort amidst a sea of desolation, their home urged Mara forward. Her hesitation betrayed her reticence…but there was only one answer to give her husband, to reveal the uncertainty of her condition. Facing the holounit, she watched absently as the time shifted from 3:14 to 3:15 and realized that another forty-five minutes of her life had passed without her conscious awareness. Closing her eyes, she took in a breath of recycled air, and then answered.

"Me."

End Post 7