A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews! They really do motivate me to finish this. I know I said this would be ten chapters, but I ended up combining a few events, so this will be the next-to-last post. Thanks for sticking with me here! -Trace

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CHAPTER 8 - Grief

Jolted from sleep by the comm signal in her Imperial Palace bedroom, Mara rolled over and slapped the button to receive. Lord Skywalker appeared and asked tersely, "Do you remember how to do a healing trance?"

Suddenly wide awake at the sound of the tension in his voice, she answered quickly, "Yes, Master - though I've not had much occasion to practice yet."

"Don't worry about that," she could tell he was making a conscious effort to keep his voice calm as he continued. "I need you to go to the medical center. I've alerted security and they will grant you access to my father's treatment suite." He swallowed visibly, "I need you to put him in a healing trance. I am en route, but I have just received an update from the physician that he may not last until…" his voice cracked and he averted his eyes, struggling for composure.

He was too far for Mara to sense through the Force, but the anguish on his face clutched at her heart, even over the holo. In spite of their most recent quarrel, she longed to reach out to him, to offer words of comfort. Instead, she began to dress hurriedly while reassuring him in a tone of confidence that she did not feel, "I will take care of it, Master."

Rushing through the Palace complex, Mara was ushered through the medical center upon arrival and directed to a large, heavily secured pod. She entered the sterile environment cautiously as medic droids of all types moved around a dais in a graceful dance of silent machinery.

The room was dimly lit, but her eyes were instantly riveted to the massive black form resting on a table in the center of the room. Tubes and wired protruded from awkward places across Lord Vader's torso the definitive mechanical breathing was eerily silent.

His mask and helmet had been removed and he was now breathing, she assumed, through the tube in his mouth. She approached slowly, not wanting to startle him, and winced at the sight of the hideous scarring across his face and scalp.

Her dealings with Lord Vader as a younger woman and even now had been brief, but he had never been unkind to her. Life had obviously not been so accommodating to him.

Gathering courage and the Force around her, she addressed him quietly, "My Lord?"

His eyes fluttered and opened, slowly tracking the sound of her voice. They were blue – like her master's. She hadn't expected that.

Unnerved, she continued haltingly, "I'm here to…I was sent to…"

A voice like Lord Skywalker's but deeper answered through the Force, You have…my gratitude...

He closed his eyes again and she felt him reach out to her, his once overpowering presence now muted, but with enough strength remaining to assist her. She stepped forward, impulsively reaching for his gloved hand, and guided him as gently as she could into a healing sleep.

Time always seemed obsolete in such trances and so it was that she had no idea how long she'd been standing there when Lord Skywalker arrived. Mara, his voice touched her through the Force before she felt his hand on her arm.

As if emerging from under water, she rubbed her eyes, focusing them on the blurry features of her master.

"Well done," he whispered, clasping her shoulder gently. "You can go now."

She backed away, palming for the access panel and feeling very much like an intruder in a private moment of communion. Skywalker knelt beside the table, resting his forehead against Vader's pale cheek. "Father…"

The door slid open and she retreated behind merciful walls of solitude.

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Three days later, it was over. According to Mara's contact in the medical center, Skywalker had not left his father's side, nor eaten or slept, since his arrival. In the end, Lord Vader had requested that the life support systems be disconnected. He died quietly in his son's arms.

Mara had not been summoned and she approached her master in his private chambers with uncertainty. She glanced around what had possibly been the study, though it was hard to say now. The room had been demolished. Chairs, tables, shelves, and a large desk had been tossed asunder as if by a whirlwind.

Skywalker sat with his back to her in the only upright piece of furniture in the room. The low arm chair was angled so that his face was in profile and, even in the dimly lit quarters, she could see that the black circles under his eyes almost rivaled the blackness of his clothes. Wayward strands of blonde hair hung limply around beard stubble that was the only other coloring of his pale, haggard appearance.

Grief roiled from him like spikes in the Force. She withdrew inwardly, shielding herself from the pain. If her master noticed, he gave no indication and continued to stare blankly ahead.

"I thought we'd have more time," his voice rasped, as dry as the Tatooine sand. "The physician…thought there'd be more time."

Mara took a cautious step forward, "I'm sorry, Master-"

"He was so powerful," Skywalker continued as if he hadn't heard her. "But it was an infection, a microscopic bacteria, that finally defeated him. If only his body had been properly prepared before being sealed up in that walking tomb…" The thought trailed off as if he'd lost the energy to speak.

She felt him slide deeper into despair and asked the first question that came to mind, as if that could halt his downward spiral, "What will you do now?"

He blinked, focusing his thoughts. When he spoke, the words were fragmented as if they came only with great difficulty. "I must take him to…the place where he wanted…to rest."

"I'll prepare your shuttle and accompany you," Mara offered.

"No," he answered automatically. "It is a…private…location. You," he paused, running a quivering hand through his unwashed hair, "You may leave. There is nothing more you can learn from me. You may have your precious freedom." He bit the last word out as if it were a curse.

Her mouth fell open. "Master, I hardly think-"

"Take any ship you like and go!" he cut her off. "I will find you should I ever require your…services."

Mara stared at him. In addition to his tormented tangle of emotions twisting through the Force, he was physically unstable, at best, and certainly not in a state to be left alone. "My Lord," she started with exaggerated calm. "Let me escort you before I go. You are in no condition to travel."

He laughed – a harsh, bitter sound. "And since when does my 'condition' concern you? Do not be so quick to judge things you cannot begin to fathom. Just…leave."

Mara pursed her lips, biting back irritation. "I can fathom that you are exhausted and hungry. At least let me bring you something to eat. If you'll just tell me what you want-"

"What I want?" His aura shifted dangerously as he rose to his feet, grasping the arm of the chair with white-knuckled intent. "You are asking what I WANT?"

With a cry of unbridled rage, he flung the heavy chair across the room as if it was weightless. Rounding to face her, he stalked across the room, eyes blazing yellow.

"I want my father back – alive and healthy without that cursed suit. I want this damned war to be over and I want," he closed the final space between them with ragged breaths, "you. So bad…it hurts."

She backed away, unable to tear her gaze from his dry, glowing eyes or block his anguish pummeling her through the Force.

"I want…you to be mine. All of you. Everything about you – the sound of your voice, the way you laugh, the way you fight, the shimmer in your eyes – it drives me to madness." He deliberately slowed his breathing, grasping for a shred of composure. "There is nothing in this galaxy beyond my command, but…I cannot make you…be mine." He looked down at his hands, clenching his fists in desperate restraint. "It hurts… And I cannot bear…" his shoulders slumped forward in defeat. "I cannot bear any more pain. Not now."

Turning away jerkily, he crossed to a viewport and leaned heavily on the ledge as if to keep himself from collapsing. "Not today…"

Memorial torches for Lord Vader lined the wall of Imperial Palace, their light flickering from the darkness outside. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the transparisteel, "Just go. Please."

Mara stood in stunned silence, watching the lights flicker across his tortured face. Her master's beautiful, tormented face.

As if waking from a trance, she moved toward him and touched his hand hesitantly, then encircled wrist with firmer resolve, pulling his arm away from the ledge until he was facing her.

"Don't," he choked.

"Shhh…." she ran her fingertips lightly over his mouth. Sliding her hands into his hair, she pushed the matted locks away from his face. His golden eyes burned into hers with terrifying intensity, but she was not afraid.

Pulling his face to hers, she brushed her lips against his, whispering, "Luke…"

Her touch sparked the ember of his desire…and he was on fire.

Clutching handfuls of red hair, he crushed his mouth against hers, parting her lips with his tongue. She opened her mouth, accepting the ravenous assault, the kiss of a man who has been starved for too long. He pushed deeper and she groaned against the pressure, stumbling backwards until she hit the wall with bone-jarring impact. She couldn't breathe. Fingers still tangled in his hair, she tried to push him back as her lungs began to burn for oxygen.

He pulled away, allowing her a single gasp of air before grabbing her wrists and slamming them against the wall. Claiming her mouth again, his lips and tongue moved down her neck. The skin there was taut and warm and he devoured it greedily. Reaching the hollow above her collar, her released her arms and grabbed her tunic, ripping it open with a grunt of dark strength. He paused only for a second to admire the beauty of her breasts before leaning down to take one in his mouth. She gasped as he suckled one then the other, flicking her nipples with his tongue until they grew hard then nipping them between his teeth.

Discarding his own tunic roughly, he knelt in front of her, his mouth and hands continuing their insistent trek downward. Reaching the top of her trousers, he seized the waistband and shredded it, pushing the remains of the garment to her ankles.

Running his hands back up her body, he stood and wrapped one hand behind her neck, pulling her lips once again to his, as his other hand slipped between her legs, sliding his fingers between her moist folds.

She moaned, spreading her legs as he caressed the slick evidence of her desire. He wanted to slow down, to touch and taste every centimeter of her body, but he could wait no longer. Without releasing her mouth, he tugged the front of his pants open and plunged his swollen length into her, impaling her against the wall.

She cried out, tears stinging her eyes with the stretch of her sex. Her fingers dug into his back and he jerked her arms away, restraining them over her head with a growl. Pinned between her master and the unforgiving duracrete, she rode the crashing waves of his passion and grief.

Her pain reached him vaguely through the Force, but he was beyond control and pounded his body against hers with abandon. The pressure in his deprived loins reached an unbearable intensity, blinding him to everything but the agony of unrequited pleasure.

Thrusting himself into her with indefensible strength, the very core of his being exploded and he came with a roar of release, grinding Mara's now-bloodied wrists into the wall. He fell against her, a lesser cry escaping his raw throat as the waves of completion slowed.

Trembling and spent, awareness returned and he pulled away slowly. His hands were sticky and he gazed in dismay at the source, at the blood running down her arms. "Mara...I'm sorry..."

Through a new window in her soul, she felt his horror and shame. "I know," she whispered. "I know…"

He pressed his lips against her bruised and shredded wrists, kissing along the delicate skin of her forearm, leaving trails of her blood along his lips and her fair skin as she pulled him gently closer. His head reached the pillow of her breasts and she held him there, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead.

Together, they slid down the wall as he collapsed into her embrace, and wept.

to be Concluded…