Disclaimer: F it. We all know I do not own SW. Otherwise I'd be lying on a giant pile of fresh money from ROTS.
Hello, everyone. Back from the dead...again. Thanks to Amylion and Zypher Omega for the feedback.
Zypher Omega: Past tense? No, I would have told you had it been a flashback.
That said, on with the fic.
Part XI
Leia's POV
I sighed as I stared at the greenish, vile-looking substance in front of me, most likely unsuitable for human consumption. Here I was, reduced to sitting in a seedy bar on Ord Mantell, crawling with filth and all sorts of vermin, for lack of anything better to do, but no less than I deserved. It was as if my life had ended that fateful day on Dagobah, when I mercilessly slaughtered my brother. Even now, the mere thought of it made me ill. I would have broken down right then were I not drained of all emotion.
No, perhaps my life had not ended, merely spiraling out of control, slipping beyond my grasp, hitting an endless string of dead ends. Dead ends, like this one. Dead ends. Even now, it was hard to believe – the concept of what I had done, it was overwhelming. It wasn't the fact that I had brought about a death – I had killed many times before. It is something you grow used to: you do not like it, but you do it out of sheer necessity.
It's the fact that it wasn't so with Luke that made it so much worse, that made my hands tremble and my eyes burn, that triggered the loathing I directed at myself. I had always felt a connection with him, though I had never been able to name what it was. Not like with Han – Han. I cast you away. I loved you, yet I threw you away – No, it had been different, but no less meaningful. And I'd thrown that to the winds as well. Why had I been so cold, the very Ice Princess I had once born the title of? Had I become the very thing I'd killed? A mirthless laugh wormed its way out of my mouth. The irony of it all. Leia Organa, – Organa? Skywalker? Vader? – Jedi in training – Not anymore. Never again will I use the Force – living up to the legacy of a Sith Lord she coincidentally happened to be the offspring of.
In fact, that was the greater irony – that I had destroyed him not for the crime of turning to the Dark Side – willingly? – but for merely existing, for who and what he was. Oh, how painfully amusing it was that all along I had been the very thing I had despised with such fervour, that I had longed to slay. With such reasoning, I should have slain myself as well. But I had not, damn that ounce of self-preservation that remained. I did not wish death upon myself, and distantly, detachedly, I was sickened by it. I should have been dead. I had no right to exist.
As if in response to the thought, the barrel of a blaster found itself pressed against my back. Previously nonexistent adrenaline skyrocketed. My heart hammered in an ominous rhythm, declaring my death sentence.
"Move it, Organa, if you value your life," Snapped a female voice, and, disgustingly, I walked as she pressed forward. Once out of the bar, we stopped, and what little thoughts there were in my blank mind were intercepted by the cold numbness of a stun bolt penetrating me.
I woke up to a blistering headache and…strapped to the copilot's seat in the cockpit of a ship? I turned my head to my left. My captor turned out to be a red-haired, green-eyed woman clad in a dark red jumpsuit and armed to the teeth. Who was she? Somehow, she did not fit my image of a bounty hunter…But what else could she be, an assassin? Had she been one – or at least a competent one – I would have been dead long ago…I briefly entertained the notion of fighting her and hijacking the ship, but thought better of it. No Force, remember?
"Good. You aren't going anywhere." It was as if she was reading my thoughts…A split second later I realized that she was force-sensitive. Her presence confirmed it, not so strong as to be glaringly bright, but significant. No Force, remember?
"Care to tell me what's going on?" I asked wryly, despite my increasing unease.
"No," She said flatly.
"How about telling me who you are for starters?" She raised an eyebrow at that.
"Mara Jade. You don't know me, but I know a great deal about you." That was an unexpected blow, but I did not dare show it.
"And why is that?"
"You really are nosy, aren't you? First of all, I'm in charge here. Second, I'm armed and you're not. Third, if you must know, you are my mission." So, I was dealing with a control freak. Like my dear father.
"Mission?" So my assumption had been right after all; she was a bounty hunter.
"Yes, mission, Your Highness—"
"Don't call me that. I am no more a princess than you are the Emperor," I gritted out, stiffening.
"As I was saying, you, Organa, are my mission. I was to capture you and bring you before Emperor Palpatine himself." So, she was one of the Palpatine's servants – filthy scum that they were. My contempt spiked and I threw Jade a dagger of a glare.
Mara's POV
"Hold your dewbacks, princess," I said. I had to admit, it was fun to irk her. "I'm not finished yet. As I said, I am to bring you to the Emperor. But I won't. You will come willingly." Organa looked baffled and a little offended. She must have thought I was out of my mind. Apparently she decided to humor me.
"And why is that?" Almost innocently. I frowned, wondering how she was going to take it. I certainly hoped she would go all mushy. I had no time whatsoever for that crap.
"Your friend is alive." Organa simply blinked. Either she had not heard it or she did not dare believe her ears.
"What?"
"Skywalker – he's alive." I could see the water building up in her eyes. Somehow, inadvertently, I'd hurt her. Weren't leaders supposed to be strong? She shook her head, dejected.
"He's dead." I sighed, whether in exasperation or resignation, I did not know.
"I assure you, he is not dead. But that may change soon." I must have stricken a chord. She trembled, her breathing rapid and shallow, and it was painfully obvious that she was trying to restrain raw emotion.
"He's dead, damnit! I watched him die, right in front of my eyes…I-I killed him…I s-spat…I spat on his corpse! He's—" With that, she burst into tears, words melting into broken sobs. And, as much as I hated it, I felt for her. I forced the feelings down.
"Look, princess—"
"Leia. Call me Leia."
"Trust me, you didn't kill him," She started to protest, but I cut her off before she could say a word. "At least not the right Skywalker. It must have been a clone…I'm pretty sure he keeps a few copies of himself as well, although there was only one of Skywalker that I know of." The princess' – Leia's – face hardened as she went into politician mode.
"Alright, so he's alive. What makes you think I will willingly surrender?" She still wouldn't get it through her thick skull that I was on her damn side. Wasn't she supposed to be intelligent?
"Surrender? I never said anything about surrendering. I was thinking of something more along the lines of 'go in, rescue Skywalker and get out'." Her tears flowed freely now, not of anguish, but a mixture relief and concern. And, succumbing to my cursed yet blessed weakness, I found myself close to tears as well. But mine were bittersweet. As much as I wanted to deny it, Skywalker's heart belonged to her and her alone.
"You love him, don't you?" I whispered.
"Yes…" She replied, distant. I stared at the floor, hiding behind my fiery curtain of hair. She must have seen my face, because she seemed amused. Was she so heartless and sadistic as to relish crushing my hopes? Hypocrite.
"It's not like that. We are twins." I did not know where the feelings came from, but I found myself immensely relieved. Yes, everything would be alright. As if to burst my bubble, Leia spoke up.
"What of Vader and Palpatine?" That I did not know the answer to.
"We'll figure out something…when the time comes. Somehow I can feel that everything will work out." The line sounded so corny I could have thrown up, but, strangely enough, I meant it.
On Coruscant, Darth Sidious smiled in satisfaction. Fools. They truly believed that their pitiful little plan would succeed, that they would simply waltz in and out and live happily ever after. What they did not know, what their puny little minds could not conceive was that he had been well aware of Jade's treason and her little scheme to rescue her lover boy. What they would not learn until it would be too late was that Sidious had allowed it. He had welcomed it. And he would use it to his advantage.