Notes:
Thanks to my awesome beta Michele!
WARNING – There is violence in this chapter, of the abusive husband kind. Please take note of this warning, I don't want to upset anyone.
Mara wandered through the markets, not really paying attention to her surroundings. She wondered what it would have been like to drag her screaming child along trying to buy groceries while he asked for sweets, or she begged for the latest holozine. Would she have even coped as a mother? That was a question she had asked herself often. Maybe her child was better off where he or she was, and not having Mara Jade, Imperial assassin, as a mother.
Paying little heed to where she was going, Mara collided with someone. Normally, she would have taken a moment to chew the person out for not looking where they were going and stormed on her way. Today she just didn't have the energy. Shifting slightly, she prepared to continue, when someone said her name.
"Mara?"
She knew that voice.
She looked tiredly up into the concerned face of the Jedi Master. "Luke," she said with finality. When she attempted to keep going, he caught her arm. She knew she should have shrugged him off, and threatened to cut off his natural hand with his father's lightsabre, just to even things up, but she couldn't find the strength. She spared a thought of annoyance – it was just typical that on the one day she needed to be alone, Skywalker would find her.
"Mara, are you all right?"
She wanted to bite back acidly, but couldn't.
No. He must have heard her answer through the Force, because she certainly wouldn't have said it aloud. She hadn't meant for him to hear it at all, yet he had.
Luke shifted his grip on her arm and guided her unresistingly through the crowds. Undoubtedly, they received more than a few stares – Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade – but the people were busy and both the trader and the Jedi Master were well known in these parts. No one bothered them. He led her into a café, and ordered them both strong cups of caf.
"What's wrong?" he asked gently. He sounded as if he were speaking to a terrified child, and a distant part of Mara railed against it. Most of her, though, just sat there and concentrated on lifting the cup to her lips. She pretended to sip it, doubting whether her stomach could handle the liquid.
"Mara?"
He was obviously very worried, and she wondered what she looked like, or what her Force sense felt like to him.
She set the cup down and heard herself answer him dimly, "My child turns sixteen, today." The words snapped her consciousness back and she realised what she had said. She had said the words my child for the first time ever, she had said them out loud and she had said them to the Jedi Master. Horror flooded her, bringing her to full consciousness. She leapt to her feet, the chair banging down behind her and raced for the door. The sound of breaking porcelain reached her ears, but it sounded out of place, so she paid it no heed.
At the table Luke shouted after her uselessly. Paying no attention, Mara didn't slow – she had to get away.
Luke shifted painfully. He'd been sitting outside Mara's apartment all day and the floor, while carpeted, was very uncomfortable. But he was determined to wait for her. His stomach growled and he spared a thought to wish he hadn't told his sister he'd be missing dinner tonight. It was well past then, and Mara still hadn't shown up. He stood, walked to the corner and back, sat down and continued to wait.
Mara was still on Coruscant, this much Luke knew. He was counting on the fact that she'd want to return here before fleeing anywhere. So, after paying for the cups of caf, Mara's broken cup, and then a little extra to the harried café owner to soothe his nerves, Luke had come straight here. He needed to talk to Mara about what she'd said before she'd run off.
"My child turns sixteen, today." He'd had a lot of time to analyse that particular statement. And still it sent icy waves through his veins. Mara had a child. That wasn't what bothered him. It was the fact that he had known her for almost ten years and he hadn't known this. Judging by Mara's expression though, he was pretty sure that most people didn't know it. He did not doubt its validity; her pain and terror had been too real.
Sixteen. He was going to assume years old, as opposed to months. That would mean the child had been born back when Mara was part of the Empire, when she was the Emperor's Hand. This did not reassure him in the slightest. In fact, it was what upset him the most. Palpatine would have been unhappy, to say the least, if his best operative had to take maternity leave. It might also explain the whereabouts of the child. The Emperor had removed him or her for his own ends.
Turns. Implied that the child was still living, or that Mara perceived her child to be alive. He did not think that Mara was unstable enough to believe her child to be living if she had evidence to the contrary. It was possible that she simply held on to a piece of the child, even though he or she was dead. But Mara was not the type to dwell. If her child were dead, Luke was perfectly willing to believe she would feel the need to recognise his or her birthday – privately at any rate – but he very much doubted she would go further.
My child. Not my son, or my daughter, but my child. A strong possibility existed that Mara did not even know the sex of her baby, or at least he felt it would be safe to assume such. Again this pointed to the Emperor having the child removed after birth. The only thing worse than his best operative having a child was his best operative raising a child. He may have been willing to allow or arrange for others in his service to be in this position, but Luke suspected that Mara would be a very different situation.
This was Luke's interpretation. He had no idea how right – or wrong – he was. For all he knew, he could be way off, but something, probably the Force, told him he was pretty much on target. Mara had had a child while in the service of the Emperor, and had been forced to give him or her up. Now she regretted the loss and it was affecting her adversely.
Footfalls. A brush against his Force-sense. Mara. He strengthened his shields. It wouldn't do for her to sense him here and decide it wasn't worth coming home after all. She rounded the corner and he stood. He felt a sudden burst of panic from her, quickly covered by anger.
Luke was relieved to see that while her skin was still too pale and there were dark shadows under her eyes, she'd lost that dreamlike, vacant look she'd been wearing when he'd stumbled across her in the market place.
"What are you doing here?" she snarled.
"Waiting for you, I was worried." He tried to express his concern without trespassing on her, or making her feel like he pitied her.
"I'm fine."
"I don't think you are." He was treading on dangerous ground here. "Look, Mara, what you said this morning…"he trailed off uncertain what else to say. How did you approach a subject such as this one?
"It was nothing. I don't know what got into me. I'm fine," she said, a little more forceful than was convincing. "Now, leave me alone." Her tone sharpened, and he could feel the underlying heat, the anger. She was warning him, telling him to go away. Unfortunately, Luke had never been very good at taking warnings, even when it came to Mara's temper.
"It was obviously not nothing. You were very…upset." She was not giving him any clues, other than her anger. He knew he needed to help her. Knew it with an urgency he didn't understand, but accepted anyway.
She placed her hand on the door release, and snorted. "Upset? That's one way of putting it." She entered her apartment and before he could follow, shut the door. He was left standing in the same spot he'd spent the day. He was aching, hungry, and worried. The only difference from the rest of the day was that Mara was now on the other side of the door.
"Jade!" He tried to pitch his voice so she would hear it, but he would not disturb her neighbours – he'd gotten enough strange looks form them today. Wouldn't do for the locals to think the Jedi Master had lost his mind or – force forbid – he was having an affair with Mara. Mara?
"Go away!" Well, if this was overheard, the neighbours were definitely going to go with a theory on quarrelling lovers. He could only pray the tabloids didn't get wind of this. Leave me alone, Jedi!
Let me in, Mara. I can help.
How? He stole my child from me, and you think you can help? Go back to the farm, Skywalker. So that, at least, confirmed part of his theory. The child had been born while Mara was the Emperor's Hand.
Let me in, Mara, please. He was begging. There was a long pause, in which she didn't answer. He thought she'd decided to ignore him, and he was about to call out to her, when her door slid open. Silently, she stood aside and let him pass.
Neither of them spoke for long minutes. In the small kitchenette, which was kept almost surgically neat – she didn't cook often – Mara prepared him a cup of caf. Luke was grateful for it, as he hadn't finished his one from the morning before she flew out of the café like a startled wild-thing. Since then, he'd had nothing to eat all day.
As she passed him the cup, she was careful not to let her skin brush his, and he sunk into an armchair. She sat on the couch opposite and stubbornly refused to look at him. She did not have a cup herself, and he wondered if she'd had anything to eat at all today. Deciding that she hadn't, he wondered when she'd last eaten. The trader was looking small and worn, thinner than he remembered.
Fingers finding a cushion, Mara fiddled for a moment, then seemed to realise what she was doing and abruptly snatched her hands back. The cushion flew from her grip at the violence of her action and landed on the floor. Her skittishness was so completely out of character, Luke nearly started.
Before meeting Mara, he'd thought his sister was one of the calmest, most collected people he knew. Then the former Emperor's Hand had breezed onto the scene, or rather: raged. She'd done furious hatred so smoothly it was outwardly hard to tell when it ended. He'd come to believe bad temper didn't necessarily mean violence. Although, strangely it seemed to come with threats of bodily harm.
Looking up at Mara, he could see she looked faint and hazy, as she'd been that morning. Whatever she'd done to appear closer to her usual self was gradually fading. The scared, confused, and grieving Mara was coming back. Before he could remember that it was of the darkside, anger and hatred coursed through him. It didn't feel calm and collected, but then, inwardly, it never was. Releasing his negativity – aimed at Palpatine – to the Force, he took a deep breath.
"Mara?" he said softly, yet still it sounded too loud in the overwhelming silence.
Her gaze snapped to his and he could see the wild-thing look in her eyes. He wondered if she was going to bolt, but she just pressed herself into the couch, warily watching him. Did she think him a predator?
"I don't want to talk about it," she said stubbornly, but then it wouldn't be Mara otherwise. Normally by now, his temper would have been heating at her reticence, but tonight he couldn't bring himself to be angry with her.
Nevertheless, he knew she should talk about it. She obviously wanted or needed to talk about it. Earlier she had unthinkingly told him about the child, a few minutes previously she had been shouting at him to leave and yet she'd been the one to let him in. She was both asking and refusing. He resisted the urge to rub his temples. Talking to Mara was a little like flying through an asteroid field, you knew you were going to hit something and you knew it was going to be cataclysmic, but you had to stay in one piece as long as possible.
If he gave her the standard, 'I think you need to talk about it', she'd either threaten to kill him or at the very least never speak to him again. Saying nothing would accomplish nothing. Sure, Mara might be able to recover herself somewhat, and even go back to functioning at something near her usual level. He was willing to bet, though, that this time next year she would go through something similar, if not worse. He could try and trick her into something, however he doubted it'd work. She might appear faint and confused, but he didn't want to test it.
He decided to go with a combination, "You're not having any caf?" When in doubt, avoid the subject.
"I'm not thirsty."
"Caf isn't exactly thirst-quenching."
"I. Don't. Want. Any." She was practically grinding her teeth.
"I was just checking, because you left your cup this morning; it was good caf." Actually she'd broken the cup, but he didn't need to bring that up. "Have you had dinner this evening?"
"No." Such a small word. Such a wealth of meaning.
He didn't change his tone, nor did he reach out to her through the Force or physically. He wanted to, but Mara would react badly. She did not like pity, and she preferred her space. "Have you eaten at all, today?"
"That's none of your business." Ice underlaid her words – she hadn't eaten. "Dammit, Skywalker, can't you just leave it be?" Anger, but grief too.
"No." Again it seemed impossible for a single syllable to carry so much weight.
A leaden pause. Mara breathed heavily, and Luke realised that she was not just angry and hurt, she was crying, too. When she flung herself out of her chair, he wondered for a second if she was going to attack him, storm out or both – but she did neither. Her back to him, she strode over to the window and stared out into the lights of Coruscant.
He followed her. They watched each other's reflections in the glass, neither willing to meet the other's gaze. Standing next to her, Luke could now feel the bone-weariness she was trying to hide. "When was the last time you ate, Mara?" This time his tone was gentler.
"Yesterday morning – it didn't stay down." Her answer sounded exhausted, as if she'd given up trying to fight his questions. No wonder she was so out of it, he was surprised she could walk straight.
"What happened, Mara?"
An infinitesimal pause, then, very softly, "I don't remember his name, but that's hardly important, it was only a one night stand." Luke realised she was speaking of her child's father. "When I found out I was…when I found out I was going to have a baby I was…" she trailed off and in the glass he could see the shadow-Mara frown as she tried to find the right word "…concerned. I thought Palpatine would punish me. Pregnant, I could do nothing for him. I expected to be told to be rid of it and go about my life – I wanted to be told that. I wanted to kill my baby." She gave a dry sob, and he wondered if he should reassure her in some way, but she carried on. "He was not angry, he said he was disappointed, and I felt that disappointment, but looking back, I'm sure he was thrilled." I'm sure he was. "He said I was to carry it to full term, but I would not raise it. I was relieved, I didn't want to be pregnant, but I wanted to be a mother even less. I knew it would slow me down, and I didn't want to lose his favour."
Her words were becoming more bitter. The Emperor's Hand may have been horrified at having a child, but Mara Jade knew what she'd given up, and it was tearing her apart. "I went into labour, but something went wrong, I had to be sedated. When I woke up it was all over. No one said a word to me about what happened. I don't even know if I had a boy or a girl. I don't even know if he or she survived!"
Luke wanted to reach out to her, with the Force, with a hug, with anything that might give her comfort, but he knew of nothing that she would accept. As he watched her reflection, he saw her try to calm herself, and after a brief battle she succeeded.
"Palpatine was cheerful for a while after that, so I assumed everything was fine. I didn't give any thought to it until after…after the battle of Endor." When Darth Vader, or Anakin Skywalker, had destroyed Palpatine and had been destroyed in return. It went unsaid – both were all too aware of what happened that day. "Even then I didn't really give it too much time. Hatred is all consuming, you know." He did. "It wasn't until after Wayland that I truly began to wonder – and to search. But I never found any trace. Wherever he or she is hidden away, I can't find them."
Story finished, Mara stared directly ahead at his reflection, waiting for a response. He could see every muscle in her body was tense, alert. Fight or flight, he remembered. "You can't be held responsible," he told her eventually, "you did what you had to." They'd been over that before, for other things. Rarely, though, had Mara learned to put the past behind her.
"Nice thought," she snorted, some of the old Mara showing through.
"Mara…"
"Doesn't matter, Skywalker. You wanted to know what happened, and now you do. For the record, there's nothing you can do. I've spent years searching and I've never even found the slightest hint." She pulled her old self over her, like a cloak. He was willing to bet she couldn't hold the illusion for long; she was too tired and too hungry.
Hesitantly, he placed his hand on her shoulder.
"I don't want your pity, Jedi."
"That's not what I'm offering, Jade."
"Then what?"
A challenge: what could he possible have to offer her? She was miserable and alone, so he doubted she believed there was anything anyone could do. She had truly searched for her child and not found any trace of him or her. To her, now, the child was impossible to find. Believing that the child was unreachable was what was causing this spiral of despair.
Looking up, he met her shadowed eyes in the window and found her watching him. In the glass she looked pale and tired.
Exhaustion settled over Luke, making him wish he could just sink into bed and sleep for months, sleep long enough to forget. Closing his eyes, he felt himself sway. A moment later his eyes snapped open as he realised it was not him, but Mara who was feeling this. He wondered anew how she was managing to stand upright.
"My help."
"I told you before, Skywalker, there's nothing you can do. He or she is gone and I can't do anything about it, neither can you. The only person who did is dead, and it's better he stays that way." She sounded defeated, but he doubted that she was. She might believe she was, but deep down beneath all those Force barriers a part of her lived in hope.
"The offer stands, for anything." She gave little in way of response, neither turning him away nor accepting. However, she met his eyes in the reflection, and he knew it was all the acknowledgment he would get. With Mara, anything that wasn't a denial was a start.
Taashi a'Tahm silently served her family dinner. The children accepted gratefully and began to eat with gusto. Edan watched her quietly for a few moments before starting. He didn't say anything, but she understood what he meant.
She had just finished her first mouthful when her husband stormed in. She kept herself still though she wanted to flinch away. Wanted to hide. That wouldn't help the children, however.
Terror filled her at the thought he might hurt the children. She didn't think she could bear it if they were hurt – by their father, no less. He'd already started to cuff Edan, and that was painful enough. The boy was their ward, and didn't deserve this.
Edan wouldn't let her speak on his behalf, though. The only time she'd tried, Vestaii, her husband, had ensured she couldn't get out of bed for a week. For seven days she'd lain there, scared of hearing a thump and then a cry, or worse a thump and then nothing. He was such a strong man and the children were so small. Edan wasn't exactly big, either. At sixteen (it was his birthday, today, and she'd cooked him his favourite meal specially), he might be tall, but it was a gangly, slender height. He could handle himself in a fight, but so could Vestaii.
Edan himself had once tried to stand up to Vestaii on behalf of Taashi. The boy had been thirteen at the time, and Vestaii had just begun to slap her around. Edan had quickly learned that getting in the way of Vestaii's fists was inadvisable. Taashi had forbidden him from ever trying again. Later, when Vestaii had taken up hitting Edan on a regular basis, the boy had made her promise the same thing. Both quickly learned they could avert the man's anger from the children, so at least one of them needed to be available to do so.
Taashi would have done anything to escape, but she knew she could not. If she remained on planet Vestaii would eventually find her – he had the means, and humans stood out here. She could not leave the planet, as she did not have enough money to buy a ticket to the next system. Not enough transports came through for her to find somewhere to stow away on, or stow the children away on, in the hope the authorities would put them somewhere away from Vestaii. Once, she'd wondered if she could kill him, but non-violence had been stamped into her as a young child. She could fight, but struggled to use the skills even in defence of herself. Once she'd thought Vestaii felt the same.
"Why have you started without me?" he snarled, standing over Taashi. She didn't look up. Such a display of defiance – meeting his eyes – would not be tolerated tonight, she knew.
"It was late, the children are hungry. I thought it best to start so they can go to bed – they have school tomorrow." She kept her shoulders hunched and her eyes averted, waiting for his blow. His anger at her for not holding dinner was inevitable, but what could she do? It was already past the children's bedtime.
"I expect my family to do me the courtesy of waiting until I'm home for dinner. I work hard to pay for this family to survive, I should be given some respect for that." He didn't actually. The idea that his work was their provider was just a convenient lie he chose to believe in. Most of the family's money came from the furniture that she, and Edan as her apprentice, built.
Vestaii dragged her to her feet, and across the table Edan's eyes met hers. If I could spare you this…it was a dual thought. Hers and Edan's. But there was no protecting either of them from Vestaii. He was bigger and stronger and more willing to use his power than them. Taashi was still watching Edan, making sure he didn't interfere, as she was knocked over. Mid-air a sudden panic took her and before she hit the ground, she twisted. It meant that she landed badly, but the need to protect…over took her. She could not cushion the blow in anyway, if Vestaii found out…
Rolling deftly, despite a sprained wrist, she managed to get out of the way of his foot. Leaping to her feet she faced him, swaying slightly, his fist having hit her hard enough that she still saw stars.
"Leave her alone!" a voice shrieked and both Vestaii and Taashi turned.
But it wasn't Edan who had spoken up. Edan was quickly moving around the table to protect the speaker, Gala. Oh no, not Gala. Force, not Gala. Her daughter was only eight standard years old, she didn't need her father beating her.
Vestaii was advancing on the little girl, who was now being shielded by Edan, his face white. Taashi stepped in front of her husband. From his seat Levon, aged six, began to cry. "Vestaii…" Taashi put a hand on his chest, forcing herself not to flinch when he turned his gaze on her. He was as angry as she had ever seen him. "Be reasonable, she's just a child – she can't possibly know what's happening here."
"I know!" yelled Gala from behind Edan, who was visibly restraining her. "I know! And I'm going to tell the policemen and they're gonna take you to the Jedi!" The comment was enough and Taashi didn't have time to consider the strangeness of the threat; it took everything she had to kick out, to trip Vestaii before he could get to Edan and Gala. She didn't often fight back at Vestaii, but when she did she knew it caused him trouble, as she'd had the same training he'd had. She was just more circumspect about using it. You shall not know anger…
Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Edan ushering a struggling Gala and a weeping Levon out of the room, though it mattered little now. Vestaii's temper had found a target and as long as none of the others distracted him, he would take it all out on Taashi. She only hoped he'd get over it quickly, and eat his dinner.
Songs of praise, vicious attacks, and carrot cake all warmly received.
