Thanks to Michele for the fantastic job she did on this!
Dream Sequence
"He's not who you expect him to be."
"Huh?" Mara blinked in surprise, but she was dreaming again. Looking around her, she realised she was in a public garden near her apartment. Obviously, the dream's landscape changed from time to time.
"My father. He's not who you think he is. And it's important to someone else, too."
Mara took a deep breath, reminding herself that the boy had to abide by the rules. Should he behave like this in person, though, she might just throttle him. These tidbits were increasingly annoying.
"And who do I think he is?" she asked a little sharper than she intended.
Her son shot her a hurt look, prompting an unfamiliar bout of contrition to arise within her. Mara had never been one to watch what she said to people, her son seemed to be an exception.
"I don't know! You're the one who's met him!" he snapped. Apparently he'd inherited her temper. That was food for a thought, as she'd never before wondered what traits of herself she'd find in him. Before, she'd been too worried about actually searching for her child to think of such.
"All right, all right," she grumbled and collapsed in the park bench. Her son sat beside her, drawing one knee up to his chest. He was watching her intently.
"What?" she asked, a little suspiciously, she wasn't used to such close scrutiny – not of this kind anyway. Usually when people watched her it was out of suspicion or desire, his was a look of open curiosity.
"I-I…it's silly," he finished, warily.
"No, what is it? You can tell me," she deliberately gentled her tone, wanting to know what he was thinking. This mother thing was a strange concept, but Mara tended to alienate so many people in her life, usually for a reason, she honestly wanted to try and connect with her son.
"I-I…I was just trying to memorise what you looked like, so when I woke up I'd remember."
"Oh." She felt strange at such an admission. Something occurred to her. "I thought this was my dream."
"I don't know. Maybe it's both of us, maybe it's just one of us, but I feel like I'm here."
"So do I."
He offered her a smile, but it was tremulous. There was a sensation a little like sand slipping through fingers and the seat in the garden was empty.
Around mid-afternoon Mara figured out why it was that most of her colleagues were avoiding her. She was too cheerful, and apparently that was suspicious. Or rather that was what she managed to pick up from the mind of an unwary aide with a strong projection ability.
She didn't mind too much, after all she had a lot to be cheerful for. Even though the clues from her dreams had been a little cryptic, to say the least, they were more than she'd ever had to go on before. As she'd had these dreams for the last two nights, there was good reason to assume she'd be getting more clues. Eventually, she would hopefully have enough that she'd be able to put them together and figure them out. She was a smart woman, she was sure she'd be able to do it. Mara didn't allow herself to think about the other possibility.
After a conversation with Talon Karrde about Imperial rumours and whether or not they were investigating them closely enough, she packed up her Coruscant office for the day to go home. Unfortunately, home came with a Jedi Master on her doorstep.
She was beginning to wonder if he was a permanent fixture. He had not been there the previous evening or that morning, but here he was again. Maybe there were exterminators for this kind of pest – she'd have to look into it. Or maybe that was too harsh, perhaps somewhere she could pick up Jedi Master repellent.
"Hello, Mara," he said gravely.
"Skywalker, is your sister refusing to feed you? You're usually unreachable at mealtimes." Her good mood almost vanished at the sight of him, but not quite. A small and well-buried part of her was actually pleased to see him. He had heard her secret; and from at least one person now, she had no need to hide. Maybe she should feel wary at giving him so much power over her, and she didn't understand why she did not, but in the past he'd never given her reason to resent his knowledge of her past. He'd never held it over her.
"I found this in my father's records. It's not much, but I thought you should have it," he told her by way of an answer, handing her a datapad. She took it from him and entered her apartment, waiting for him to follow, before closing the door firmly behind him.
Inside she settled down on the couch and he did also, across from her, both unconsciously mimicking their positions from the evening two days prior. She looked at it warily, recognising it as the type Vader kept his records on. After the Battle of Endor, they must have found their way into Luke's possession.
"They're from a section, that I'd never looked at closely, but when you told me about…your child, I remembered them and went to check from the parts I had skimmed over. There's not much there and I don't think it'll help you much, but like I said I thought you should have it," he finished softly.
If he'd looked over them sooner, she realised, he might have found out about her child before this. The thought was alarming that only Luke's reluctance to closely examine some of his father's darker records kept him from finding out.
She had not switched on the datapad yet and she realised she was afraid. Across from her the Jedi Master watched her expressionlessly. He had said there was not much there, but anything was better than nothing. One shaking finger activated the pad, and once it was on she could see Luke had highlighted the passages she wanted and brought them to the top of the file. There weren't many and it took her only a moment to scan though them.
The Emperor is most pleased. I cannot fathom why.
I inquired into Jade's current status with my Master. He was amused and informed me it was none of my concern. It is my belief that he arranged the whole incident. My Master is delighted with the success of Jade's project and has granted her two months leave.Mara could feel Vader's coolness, his vague interest. He was not truly concerned about the proceedings; he had only noted them as a matter of form. He was curious about what had pleased the Emperor and that was all. She noted he had formed his own opinion about what had happened, and that it was chilling.
Palpatine hadn't exerted that much control over her, had he? The ability to induce her to bed a man and then get pregnant with his child? That was beyond even the Emperor's capabilities, wasn't it? Vader evidently disagreed, but those were his assumptions.
"He's not who you expect him to be." The words spoken by her dream-child. According to this record whatever Vader had asked the Emperor had not been answered and he'd never given any indication of an interest in her child's father. So who was that nameless man of nearly seventeen years ago? Had he been a plant of Palpatine, someone to make sure she got pregnant? How was that possible? She was not an expert on the matter, but even she was well aware that once was hardly enough to ensure pregnancy.
"Mara?" She had not been aware of his movements, but suddenly Luke was kneeling beside her. Gently he took one of her hands in his own and rubbed it. She did not shake him off.
"T-this was all?" She struggled unexpectedly with her voice.
"I looked through his later records, but there's nothing there. You're welcome to search for yourself, if you want, though. I asked Leia, if I could see the ones she has – I didn't tell her why – but she only has his very early ones."
She shook her head at his suggestion that she search Vader's records, she was sure whatever he'd done would be thorough. If he said there were no other mentions, she believed him.
"Leia has some of Vader's records?" She had to admit to surprise, she wouldn't have thought the other woman would have kept any.
Luke gave a rueful smile. "We thought there might be a mention of our mother, but there wasn't, and they were the ones that ended up with Leia. I think she just never got around to returning them." He dismissed the topic as being unimportant. Mara knew, though, how much finding his mother had once meant to him, and she doubted that desire had ever completely faded.
"Are you all right?" he asked softly. "You're very pale."
"I'm fine!" she snapped, finding some of her usual equilibrium.
So he'd done something very unexpected and very thoughtful. So what?
"Have you eaten yet tonight?" he asked.
"No, why?" she said guardedly.
"Well, I missed dinner at Leia's," he began and she snorted. "So maybe we should get something together," he finished.
She rolled her eyes. "All right, seeing as your sister can't take proper care of you," she took note of his indignant expression, but did not acknowledge it, "maybe ordering in would be nice. I'm not going to be seen out with you, so we stay here."
It was his turn to roll his eyes, and when he answered her his tone was a little dry. "Fine, whatever you wish." He took the hand that was not still gripping hers and spread it out, imitating a gracious gesture, mocking her. "Still, if you want strange men leaving your apartment at all hours of the night…"
"Do you want to eat alone?" she threatened.
"No, no, we'll do it your way," he said quickly.
"Good decision," she growled.
The meal was quiet and contemplative; neither seemed all that inclined to speak, though Luke looked as if he might want to from time to time. Mara watched him covertly, but he was a fairly unreadable person and so she didn't gain much from her scrutiny.
A part of her mind was going over her dream from the night before. Her son had been watching her to remember what she looked like, he'd said; she wondered if he could. She still could not recall anything about the way he looked, even though this morning she'd meditated on the topic and tried Jedi recall too. Most likely whoever she had been talking to was not really her child, just a mental representation created by herself. There was a strong possibility it was not even a boy; that it was just the convenient image her sub-conscious had given her.
Of course, if it were her sub-conscious, then it probably was a boy. A new thought occurred to her, which had never done so before: she was a Jedi – or Force-sensitive, at least – while she was pregnant she could have stretched out her senses to communicate with her child. She could have found out then if it were a boy or girl, but she hadn't known that was something she could do, then. And, she realised with a sinking feeling, she wouldn't have been interested in finding out. She'd had as little to do with the baby as she could purposely manage, not wanting to think about the situation. It had interrupted her life. It had made her life difficult. It had made her risk the good graces of the Emperor. It had been little better than a parasite.
She could acutely remember the first time she'd felt her child moving within her. She'd known what it was, of course, having had what to expect clearly outlined to her at the outset of her pregnancy. The experience had horrified her; for the first time, she'd been made completely aware that there was something alive growing inside her.
Ever since she'd begun her search, she'd also gone back, trying to retrieve all her memories of the only time she'd been allowed to spend with her child. It had been hard separating what Mara the Emperor's Hand felt for the child from what Mara the smuggler or Mara the Jedi felt. Most of the memories, despite her attempting to purge the negativity, were tinged with disgust.
"Mara?"
She jerked out of her reverie and noticed that the Jedi Master was still sitting across from her. The table had been cleared and she realised he must have put everything away while she was running over her thoughts.
"What?" she asked, in something less than her usual bark.
"Are you all right? You were so lost in thought, I was beginning to think I'd have to follow you in and bring you back." He smiled but it was only half a joke. Luke could have done that, if he'd thought she was in danger, where she was. Mara hadn't been, but she'd been so far out of it, she hadn't noticed him clearing the table. If he was worried, she guessed – grudgingly – that she understood why.
"I'm fine," she said, coolly, more to regain her usual self than anything.
"I don't know how to talk to you about…this," he said haltingly, and this time his hand gesture indicated everything about her child.
"Then don't," she told him. "It's been sixteen years. I've never told anyone about this, I don't see suddenly why talking should help, now. I've been getting along just fine."
"What about the day before yesterday? What about just now? They don't make me think you're fine."
"Look, Skywalker," she said tiredly, but with just enough annoyance to make him back off. "It all happened a long time ago, there's nothing you can do to help and I wouldn't want you to in any case." She made sure to clip her words, using an emphasis she didn't feel.
"Fine," he murmured with defiant eyes. She felt a slight ache of loneliness, but ignored it.
"I should go," he said with a forced politeness.
"Probably," she agreed coolly. Collecting Vader's datapad, she passed it to him, but he refused it, telling her to keep it – he didn't want it. She was surprised, but guessed that Vader's thoughts were hardly what he was interested in when it came to knowing his father.
At the door, he stood there for a moment, seemingly torn. About what she didn't know and she wasn't going to find out anytime soon because he bade her goodnight and left.
After Vestaii had gone to bed that night, Taashi painfully washed the dishes, glad that he'd been in a much better mood, and had decided not to take his general unhappiness out on her, Edan or the children.
The sprained wrist and bruises of two days earlier could have been worse, much worse, but she was glad he wasn't demanding her presence in his bed tonight, like he had done the last couple of nights. She didn't want the feeling of him over her tonight, in her, taking his fill. Usually, though, in his calmer moods he wasn't all that interested. She didn't stop to question why, she was just thankful for it.
In some ways, it was more painful than his fists, which was probably why he demanded it. There had been a time when he'd taken care to make love to her, a time when their partnership had been equal, and a time when he'd never have hit her out of anger. Then her grandfather, their trainer and their master, had died and everything had changed.
She wiped a tear out of her eyes, it would help her none. She had to be strong for the children. She couldn't help them yet, but one day the savings she'd been quietly putting aside might be enough to get them off-world. Maybe even as far as Yavin 4, where they could be real Jedi. She only hoped that Master Skywalker would accept them. She'd heard it was a lot easier to be admitted to be a Jedi in the New Republic than it had been when her great-grandmother had been forced to leave. Maybe, maybe, maybe…
"Taashi?"
She started violently, but it was only Edan.
"The children?" she asked, hating the tone of her voice. The weakness of it, and the way she needed to rely on a sixteen-year-old boy. She was the adult here, the one who was supposed to be strong.
"They're asleep. Gala's still miserable though, she hates it when he hits you, and now she feels guilty because she thinks her outburst the other night has made him hit you more."
"It's not true! How—"
"I know," he answered softly. "I tried to tell her, but I don't know that she believed me. You have to get them away from here!"
"I know," she gently repeated him. She needed to get Edan away from here, as well.
Perhaps he heard her, perhaps he didn't, but he answered her all the same. "It's not me, you need to worry about, you know. If you, Gala and Levon weren't here, and I moved to the other side of the planet I doubt he'd take the time to find me. You on the other hand – what about your baby?"
Ice poured through Taashi's veins. "Damn it, Edan! How did you find out about that? Even Vestaii doesn't know!" she hissed, making sure to keep her voice down. It wouldn't do to have her husband wake.
"Vestaii hasn't heard you spilling your guts every morning for the last week. After hearing that, it didn't take too much of an effort for me to check." He sounded vaguely smug and she didn't blame him, that was quite good work on his part. Taashi had more than seventeen years of training on him. To be able to scan her without her knowledge was very good.
She snorted. "If you think I'm going to congratulate you for that…" But he was grinning at her, and in a way she was proud of him. Here was another one who should go to the Jedi Academy. He was very powerful and Taashi knew her grandfather had worried about his ability to teach Edan to control himself properly, and Taashi knew that she was in even less of a position to do so. Still, if he could do something like that, gently, without her knowledge, it showed he had good control. Fine workings were harder than grand sweeps.
He'd never shown any signs of indulging in anger either, unlike Vestaii. She worried, though, that if he or the children spent too much time around Vestaii they might pick up on his habits. She'd stopped training Gala and Levon years ago, feeling that as little exposure to using the Force as possible was best, and they'd been so young then anyway. Edan was harder; he'd had enough that if he didn't keep up work it would be all too easy for him to be tempted into doing something he shouldn't. Both he and Taashi kept up with meditation and small exercises when Vestaii wasn't around. Vestaii was indiscriminate when it came to Force use. He found it a handy weapon.
Edan was stacking the dishes away for her. Looking at him, she felt guilty. He'd turned sixteen two days ago and it had barely been acknowledged. "Edan, it was your birthday, and things didn't go so well—"
"Don't worry about it," he told her, but she could hear that it mattered to him, it mattered a lot. She sniffled, trying to fight back more tears, but they wouldn't be held back – not this time. Dammit, he deserved better, they all deserved better than this!
She put her hands on the edge of the sink, turning away from Edan at the pantry. She tried so hard to stop, but found she couldn't. Her sobs were silent – even now she didn't want to risk waking Vestaii – but messy. She scrubbed at her face, but that only made her bruises hurt more. Salt got into the graze on her chin, stinging.
Beside her there was a flutter of movement and she could feel Edan's uncertainty as he wondered how to comfort her, then felt the sharp tinge of his own grief. She tilted her face towards him and saw he too was crying, but he was fighting even harder not to, and she understood why. He was sixteen, and a boy, he wasn't supposed to cry. If she'd been any less miserable she'd have rolled her eyes.
He looked like the little child he'd been at Parteb's funeral, lost, confused, alone and not understanding why. Back then she'd held him on her lap and whispered comforting words to him. The memory was enough to make her get a grip on her emotions and she gathered him in her arms, much like she'd done ten years ago. He buried his head in her neck and she stroked his back, murmuring to him gently. Right now saviour might be beyond her abilities, but she could do mother or sister.
Taking a reading of his feelings, showed a well of grief, fear and misery. Later she would have to recommend he meditate on them – she would have to as well – but the guilt was a surprise. Looking a little deeper, she realised he felt he should be protecting her and the children more.
Completely untrue. She needed to protect him, not the other way around. When he'd calmed down she pulled back and looked at him. "Edan, you must never, ever feel guilty for what Vestaii does; this is his illness not yours, and as much as it hurts to admit it, not mine."
"If I was bigger, or faster…"
"You'd be able to hit him back, and if you did, you'd run the risk of doing so in anger."
"Protecting someone, or yourself, isn't the dark side," he said stubbornly, his eyes dark and his jaw firm.
"It is if you strike out of anger. Intentions don't count if you use anger or fear to carry them out." She placed her hands on each of his shoulders, deliberately keeping her eyes away from the white bandages on her left wrist. "You must remember this, Edan."
Her great-grandmother and her grandfather, while they had taught self-defence, had been firm about how it should be used. If they'd had their way it would be not at all. Much of what her grandfather had taught and the faint memories of her great-grandmother hovering over her with strict resonance had been about not using what she'd learned. She'd been four when the former Jedi had died and she still viewed those particular memories with trepidation.
Combat skills were only to be used to uphold peace in the galaxy and one could not go about upholding peace with violence. Only in the direst of circumstances should it be used, which was why the last lightsabre to be built in this family had been Merta a'Tahm's, before she'd left the Jedi Order. Or was kicked out – no one had been very clear on the details.
"I'll keep it in mind," muttered Edan, now.
"Good," she said, ignoring the slightly sarcastic edge to his words. "It's time for you to go to bed, anyway. And me," she added yawning, tired, feeling dry and stuffed up from her earlier tears. She gently pushed him in the direction of his room.
"And I want you to meditate on your feelings of guilt."
"Yes, Master," he said, this time not bothering to tone down the sarcasm. "Goodnight, Taashi."
She gave him a fond smile. "Goodnight, Edan, may your sleep be restful and your dreams pleasant." The old benediction slipped off her tongue and she wondered at it. She hadn't used it in years, hadn't really felt it was prudent; mostly it seemed when your waking life was a nightmare, your dreams followed pattern. Much better, it often seemed, to not dream at all.
As he left the kitchen, he mumbled something that could have been, "I hope."
Words of wisdom, condemnation and admiration will be gladly received.
