A/N: There's an extended version of this chapter available that has a, uh, rather intense sex scene in it. But I didn't want to have to change the rating of the story here, so…

If anyone wants it, and you're 18 or over, just drop me an e-mail and let me know.

Thanks to all those who were kind enough to review and are still sticking with me. The good news is that I'm in a real writing mood right now, and I can actually begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel for this story! Probably fewer than ten chapters to go, if that many. Thanks again!

The next day marked two standard months since Luke and Mara had landed on Dagobah. Both of them were starting to get a little antsy, knowing that the Alliance was counting on them to return soon. Before the two of them had left, there had been talk of a concentrated attack on the Imperial forces, this in response to troubling reports of a second Death Star. As much as the High Council may have doubted Luke's motivations, he was still very committed to stopping the Empire, and he knew that wasn't going to happen while he was on Dagobah.

So, while he hated to leave again, Luke was going to tell Yoda that their Jedi training was going to have to be put on hold once more. Besides the fact that the Alliance needed them, Luke could almost feel the pull of his father's presence, demanding a confrontation, a reckoning.

Luke felt the weight of his duty, his responsibility, as he always did, but now there was something more there. A tiny glimmer of hope that had grown ever stronger since the moment the seed of an idea had taken root in his mind. An idea that he had yet to share with anyone, not even Mara. Luke knew she would not understand the unreasonable certainty that he felt. Anakin Skywalker still slumbered somewhere deep within the dark armor of Darth Vader…and his son was going to wake him up.

An odd ripple in the Force caused Luke to pause in mid-stride on his way to Yoda's hut. Without completely understanding why, he found himself picking up his pace, moving faster and faster through the swamp towards his Master's home. He was panting from exertion by the time he reached the small dwelling.

Stumbling inside quickly, Luke was surprised to find Master Yoda in his bed. Normally, the tiny Jedi would be up for hours yet. Luke was hard pressed to keep the shock from his face at how frail his Master suddenly looked. The young Jedi-in-training wondered if Yoda had been somehow hiding the severity of his condition from his students. Surely I would have noticed if he had always looked this ill, Luke thought frantically. He remembered Yoda's words about running out of time when Luke and Mara had first arrived on Dagobah with some dread.

"That face you make. Look I so old to young eyes?" Yoda said, the twinkle still in his own eyes.

"No, Master, of course not," Luke said, lying miserably.

"I do! Yes, I do. Old I've become. Sick and weak. Push it aside, I can no longer," he said with a sigh. "When nine hundred years old you reach, look as good you will not!"

"Probably not, Master," Luke said with a little smile.

"Twilight is upon me and soon night must fall-"

"No, Master Yoda, you can't die! There's still so much for Mara and me to learn."

"Hmph! Strong am I with the Force, but not that strong. Death is the way of things, the way of the Force."

Yoda paused, seeming to need a moment to gather his strength and Luke imagined that he could almost see the tiny being growing weaker with every breath.

"Luke, beware the Emperor. Do not underestimate his powers or suffer your father's fate, you will. Beware of anger, fear, aggression. Of the Dark Side are they. Once you start down the Dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny."

Luke kept his automatic denial of that notion to himself, not wanting to tarnish what he now knew would be his last moments with his teacher. But he's wrong, Master Yoda is wrong! I know there is still good in my father. I know he can be turned back from the Dark Side. I just have to make him remember the Light…

"Luke, when I am gone…last of the Jedi will you and Mara be. Pass on…what you have learned. Luke…"

Yoda was struggling for every breath now and Luke was shocked at how rapidly his Master seemed to be deteriorating before his eyes, although there remained a fierce gleam in the old Jedi's gaze. Luke leaned forward, straining to catch the words coming from Yoda's mouth, now so faint he could only barely hear them.

"Luke…sorry, am I…for the many lies told to you…did what we thought best…at the time…Luke…you were not alone…there…was a-another…sk-sky…"

Any secrets or confessions Yoda had been trying to make were lost as the final breath left his body with a silent sigh. Luke stared at the body of his Master, his sorrow welling up until he thought it would flow out of his every pore, and then he blinked as Yoda's body appeared to shimmer slightly. Like a curl of smoke vanishing into the atmosphere, the Jedi Master's body disappeared, the blanket that had covered him falling softly to the bed.

Luke was saddened and a little frustrated at the same time. He sensed that Master Yoda had been trying to tell him something very important, but whatever it had been had slipped away unsaid with the old Jedi's passing. There was still so much that he didn't understand. He'd never gotten a satisfactory answer about Arica Alie. When Luke had told Yoda about the Force-sensitive young woman, the Jedi Master had brushed aside Luke's worries about the possibility that she was using the Dark Side, instead urging his student to focus on the task he had ahead of him.

In retrospect, Luke wondered if he should have told Yoda everything about the strange connection he'd felt with Arica, but here on Dagobah, that had begun to seem so far away. Luke had felt that perhaps he had overestimated the strength of the bond he'd sensed with her, and had left that part out of the story he'd told his Master. Maybe that had been a mistake. And now it was too late to rectify that error.

Numbly, Luke walked back towards the shuttle where Mara and Artoo were waiting for him.

"Luke! I felt something, in the Force. It was so sad. Was it-" Mara dashed up to him before he'd even stepped fully into the clearing where their shuttle rested, grasping his hands in hers and looking into his face anxiously.

He nodded slowly. "Master Yoda is one with the Force now," he mumbled.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry," Mara said softly. She stepped forward, taking him into a tight embrace. Luke buried his face in her hair, trying unsuccessfully to halt the flow of tears.

They held one another for a long time, Luke's thoughts turning sadly to all the loved ones he'd had to say goodbye to in the last few years; Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru; Ben; Biggs; and now Master Yoda.

"I don't think I can go on alone, Mara," Luke said quietly.

"Hey," she protested gently as she pulled away a little and cupped his face in her hands. "Who says you're alone? What do you think Artoo and I are? Chopped kirnish?"

Luke smiled at her gratefully. The grin slowly faded as he recognized the time had come to tell Mara about his true parentage. If she was to know that he had to face Darth Vader again, she had to understand why. He reached up to take her hands in his, pulling them down and holding them tenderly in between their bodies.

"Mara, I have something very important to tell you. It won't be easy for you to hear it, but you have to. Yoda and Ben have told me that I have to face Darth Vader again before I can truly be a Jedi Knight."

Mara's expression clouded over at the mention of the Dark Lord and her hands clenched Luke's a little more tightly. Gathering his courage, Luke continued.

"They want me to kill him-" Luke said.

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Mara interrupted with a bitter smile.

"-but I can't do that, Mara. I just can't."

"Why not?" she demanded angrily.

The words seemed to lodge in Luke's throat, his fear of her reaction practically forcing them back down. Nervously, he bit his lip and cast his gaze downward to the ground. If he was going to say it – and Luke knew that he must – there was no way he could watch the inevitable disgust in her eyes when he did so.

"He's my father," he whispered. Of their own volition, his eyes darted back up to Mara's face, his desperate need to know what she was thinking and feeling outweighing the fear of rejection.

Mara watched intently as Luke worried over whatever it was that he had to tell her. A gnawing sense of anxiousness began to build within her as some sixth sense – or perhaps it was the Force – warned her that it was going to be bad.

"He's my father."

The words hit her like a blow to the chest, leaving her stunned and breathless. She stared at Luke in shock for a long moment as he looked down at the ground and then back up at her. Her every sense reeling, Mara shoved his hands away from her and took several steps backwards. Half-turning away from him with a jerk, Mara wrapped her arms around herself, her skin clammy and cold. His father! Vader is Luke's father! How can that be!

For all her inner fire and outward bristling, Mara Jade was a gentle person at her core. Usually, the only ones who saw this tender side were Luke, Han, Wedge and Chewie, but it was there. Riann Jade of Alderaan had raised her daughter with all the pomp and circumstance befitting a princess, and if they weren't embroiled in the middle of a rebellion, Mara might well have never picked up a weapon in her life. The result of that careful upbringing was that Mara's heart was good and pure and there was no room for hatred in it. With one exception.

Mara had held strong feelings of dislike and revulsion at the thought of all the horrible things that the Emperor's right arm had done even before she had been taken captive aboard the first Death Star. The treachery of Palpatine and Darth Vader was the primary reason she'd become involved with the Rebel Alliance, but her loathing of them and their actions was more vague and impersonal, akin to the disgust she felt when reading of nefarious figures of the distant past in her history holobooks.

Until the Death Star.

Until Vader's unrelenting torture to find the answers he sought about the Alliance's hidden base.

Until Alderaan.

If it hadn't been for the friendship of Han and Luke, the heat of that hatred might have consumed her. As it was, the two of them had not only been Mara's rescuers, they had been her salvation. The balm of her friends' companionship had kept the flames of that fire banked for the most part. Occasionally, the memories became more than she could deal with, but one of them had always been there to help her through it. More often than not in the last year or so, the one to help Mara with her pain had been Luke Skywalker, farmboy from the desert planet of Tatooine.

No, the son of Darth Vader! Son of my worst enemy, my worst nightmare! Far worse, Mara suddenly remembered Yoda's words on the first day they had arrived on Dagobah. Luke's father had killed her father, cut him down without the slightest bit of remorse. Her pain and anger swelled at the thought of all that she had missed in growing up without her father, never having known him at all, because Luke's father had stolen that away from her.

Far worse, Mara suddenly remembered Yoda's words on the first day they had arrived on Dagobah. Luke's father had killed her father, cut him down without the slightest bit of remorse. Her pain and anger swelled at the thought of all that she had missed in growing up without her father, never having known him at all, because had stolen that away from her.

The air constricted in her lungs and she struggled to breathe through the agony coursing in her system. All at once, Mara became aware that the pain piercing her being wasn't wholly her own. She turned her head sharply to stare at Luke, who was standing in the same spot, unmoving as a statue and yet, somehow trembling with emotion over his entire body. His hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides, and although his head was bowed, she could see a muscle working violently in his jaw.

Mara could see his anguish in every line of his form and more than that, she could feel it intensely over the bond they shared in the Force. Luke's despair, his utter certainty that he had lost her forever, flooded over Mara in waves. Guilt assaulted Mara's senses. This was Luke Skywalker, her rescuer, her friend, her lover…her soulmate. He'd had no choice in being born or in even knowing who his parents were. Vader's evilness had not only robbed Mara of her father, he had stolen this from his own son as well. Luke was nothing like him. Her farmboy was the sweetest, kindest, most noble person Mara had ever met in her life.

Three swift steps and she was in his arms again, where Mara knew she belonged. After an initial jump of surprise, Luke crushed her body to his so tightly that she could barely breathe, but Mara didn't care. All she cared about was making his hurt go away.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," he was mumbling into her neck through his tears.

Again, Mara pulled away - with some effort this time, as he didn't seem to want to let her go - and wiped the tears from his face with her fingers.

"Why are you apologizing to me? You have nothing to apologize for. I'm sorry for the terrible way I reacted."

A tiny smile appeared at the edges of Luke's mouth. "You actually reacted better than I thought you would. I was half-afraid you'd pull your blaster on me."

A nervous little chuckle escaped Mara's lips as she leaned forward to touch her forehead to his, reaching out through the Force to reassure him that way, as well.

"This is what he did to you at Bespin, wasn't it? That's when you found out," she said as realization struck her.

The same haunted expression that he'd carried those few days in the medbay returned to Luke's face. "Yes," he whispered. "I accused him of killing my father and he said…he said, 'No, I am your father.' Mara, that hurt worse than him cutting off my hand."

"Shh. Shh, it's all right," she said soothingly as she hugged him close again. "You should have told me sooner. There was no need to go through this by yourself."

Luke had been nearly overcome at the sense of relief that rushed through him when Mara took him into her arms. He had been so afraid that she would never want to look at him again, much less actually touch him.

Now, at Mara's gently chiding words about handling his responsibility alone, Luke tried to quiet the nagging little voice that mocked him for still not telling her the complete truth. He could not tell her that he believed there was still good in his father…not yet. She wasn't yet ready to hear that, still believing that Darth Vader was a soulless creature of destruction. And he certainly couldn't tell her that he planned on trying to coax that tiny spark of goodness that he believed to still exist within his father into a flame once again.

No, right now all he wanted to do was to hold her, breathe in her scent, and rejoice in the mingling of her Force sense with his own. This was what made all his pain and struggle worthwhile, this amazing and beautiful bond between the two of them. Luke wondered how he'd been able to exist before they had forged this connection.

The next morning, Mara awoke to see Luke sitting on the floor of the cabin, his eyes closed and his sense over their bond deeply in tune with the Force. She simply watched him for a long moment, admiring the beauty of him and in awe at his strength in the Force. As though he felt her silent regard, Luke took a deep breath, coming out of his meditation and looking at Mara solemnly.

"It's time to go back."

Sunshine greeted her every morning when she awoke. Leia would open her eyes and smile at the warmth on her skin from the sunlight streaming through the window. It was a pleasant change from the darkness that still haunted her dreams. The planet Ansarra was far enough from Coruscant that she felt safe from discovery, but not so deep into the Outer Rim that the people were the ignorant savages she had expected.

They had just enough large cities to make themselves feel sophisticated, although Leia knew most of them would still be considered country bumpkins on the city-planet that was the home of the Emperor. Shaking her head, Leia pushed thoughts of her former Master out of her head as she rose and performed her morning routine.

As she brushed her hair in front of the small mirror in her tiny apartment, Leia paused, turning her head first one way and then the other. Her hair was growing long and she decided that she liked it that way. Always before, it had needed to be kept short, so that it wouldn't interfere when she was on a mission. It had never been much longer than chin-level, but now it was almost touching her shoulders. She nodded her head decisively. Yes, she would keep it that way, maybe even let it grow longer still.

A few minutes later, Leia was out the door and walking leisurely to work. A soft smile crossed her face as that fact still had a difficult time settling over her. She had an actual job, one where she needed to show up on time, had to get certain things done, and she was paid every week for it. The Emperor had never given her real credits, instead simply providing whatever she needed, personally or professionally. Now she had credits that were her own, credits that she could decide to blow on a completely useless, frilly dress if she so chose.

Of course, she was also now responsible for paying her own bills as well, and Leia was far too sensible to go wasting her credits. But it was an exhilarating thought that she could if she had the notion. When she had first arrived on Ansarra, she had considered selling the Windrider to get money, but had decided against doing so, her assassin's instincts not liking the idea of leaving herself no way off-planet. So, she had sold some of her equipment instead and the funds from that had provided her with enough to rent a small apartment. Leia had pondered simply living on her ship, but decided she'd done that far too often.

Knowing that the money wouldn't last forever, Leia had decided to go and seek employment. She had truly been excited about the idea, relishing the chance to live like most other beings in the galaxy did. Worried that it might be difficult to find work without ever having held a normal job, Leia hadn't held out much hope of finding anything soon. And yet, something had seemed to guide her footsteps to Reylan Kenor and his art gallery.

Thoughts of Reylan caused another smile to cross her face. The old man had found her standing in front of one of the paintings in his gallery, an expression of wonderment on her face. Leia couldn't have said exactly what it was about the painting that so captivated her, except that something in it made her realize she was truly free for the first time in her life. Their impulsive conversation about art and it's purpose in the galaxy had ended with him offering her a job, which she had immediately accepted.

The only drawback to this new life - and it was more of a minor annoyance than a true drawback - was Reylan's grandson, Thel. The young man was nineteen and working in his grandfather's gallery for the summer months before he went back to university in the fall. Thel had immediately declared his undying love for Leia in the way of passionate young men who'd never really been in love at all.

As eager as she was to experience everything she'd been denied as the Emperor's Hand, Leia was staying strictly away from matters of the heart. Her dreams - the ones that weren't nightmares - were still filled with memories of a hazel-eyed, smooth-talking, highly irritating scoundrel, and she was determined to keep Han Solo there, in her memories and not in her heart. That was where she was determined to keep all thoughts of Skywalker as well, buried so deep that she could barely recall any feelings of a bond between them.

As politely as a former assassin was able to, Leia kept Thel at arm's length. She felt decades older than him, despite the difference in their ages only being a few years. Her smile twisted into an almost grimace as she saw Thel waiting for her just inside the door to the gallery. Years of training on hiding her emotions kicked in and she was able to answer politely when Thel gave her an over-enthusiastic greeting.

Leia was listening with indulgent humor to Reylan telling another tall tale of his misspent youth when her new life began to fall apart. She stiffened in shock at the familiar niggling at the back of her skull.

No…

"Leia, are you all right? You've gone white as a ghost!" Reylan asked with concern.

((Did you really think it would be that easy to escape me, my Hand?))

His voice, cruel and cold, seared into her consciousness and Leia leapt to her feet, knowing that she had to get out of there, get away before the punishment began. And it would be severe this time, that much she understood with crystal clarity.

"Reylan, I…I have to go. I'm sorry!"

Leia barely noticed the confused expression on her benefactor's face as she ran from the gallery, like demons from the nine hells of Corellia were on her heels. No, what was chasing her was far worse than that, and she cringed in fear as she stumbled onto her ship. When the punishment began, she screamed until her voice gave out.

When Reylan and Thel came looking for her the next morning, she was already gone.