Chapter Nine
The last time Mara had visited the Solo residence it had not been a casual occasion. She could still remember the sounds of blaster fire and desperation that had echoed through the halls of the Imperial Palace; the contingent of Imperial commandos who had been opposed by the New Republic's Palace Security. Garm Bel Iblis had been there too, proving his mettle as he led Palace Security in a desperate attempt to rescue Leia and her twins. She hadn't even thought about it before she threw herself into that particular fray, she remembered. She had just reacted, risking her life and her freedom to protect Leia Organa Solo and her infant children. The New Republic had, of course, rewarded her by throwing her in prison.
Karrde walked beside her, wearing his usual fitted white tunic, dark pants, and light blue cape. He knew how to make an impression—and he knew when not to make one. Tonight he was dressed to match the preconceived notions he wanted to continue to cultivate: refined, respectable, but still roguish. He knew as well as she did that the newsies would find out that representatives of the Smugglers' Alliance had dined with Councilor Leia Organa Solo and her family, and it was important that the face of the Smugglers' Alliance be exactly what both the Senate and the smugglers could accept. Alienating either would doom the enterprise.
Mara, therefore, had dressed similarly. She had considered, briefly, one of her formal or semi-formal gowns, but dismissed them as insufficiently roguish. She had also considered one of her normal, casual tunic/jumpsuit outfits that she usually wore aboard ship, but dismissed them as insufficiently formal. Reluctantly, she had chosen an emerald green tunic with a high collar. The tunic was loose enough to hide her forearm holster (which she had, even more reluctantly, left aboard the Wild Karrde), and paired well with her nondescript slacks. She finished the outfit with her combat boots.
Her lightsaber dangled from her belt brazenly, challenging any of the Palace Security guards they passed to object. None did. It wasn't quite a replacement for her holdout, but it was better than nothing.
She wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that it no longer seemed odd to her that the Imperials were gone. The security guards were more casual than their Stormtrooper predecessors had been, but no less attentive. They watched her with a mix of caution and respect that she could live with.
Karrde pressed the buzzer and they waited. And waited. Mara glanced at Karrde, reaching out with the Force as she checked for trouble—
The door was flung open with excess force, smacking into the wall with a bang. Han Solo stood in the doorway, a wailing Jaina Solo clutched under his arm and a greasy spatula in his other hand. He had a large red splotch on his tunic, which Mara belatedly realized was the result of a cooking mishap and not a blaster wound. "Karrde!" Han barked, his attention already moving on. "Open the door when the kid gets here!" he ordered the utterly bewildered pair of smugglers, heading back towards the kitchen at a brisk, slightly unsteady trot.
Karrde and Mara looked at each other. Mara's eyebrows both lifted slowly, while Karrde's expression slowly grew into a grin. "Not what I expected," Karrde said dryly.
Mara blinked, and she closed the door as they entered the apartment. It looked... different... without all the furniture turned over to block blaster fire.
"Do you need any help?" Karrde called, leaning to the side and peering towards the kitchen.
"No!" Han yelled back angrily, the sound of a baby wailing growing from that same direction. "Oh for the love of!" the ex-smuggler and husband to the New Republic's likely future Chief of State exclaimed around a muffled sizzling sound. There was another rustle of movement and Han came back, this time holding Jaina in both arms, the spatula left behind. "Here!" he growled, and thrust Jaina into Mara's arms. "You hold her while I salvage what's left of the Corellian sausages."
Mara didn't even have time to object before Han was gone again, cursing under his breath. She gaped at the crying face, moving her arms in a way that she hoped was the right way to hold a baby, then glared daggers after Han's retreating back. "I'm not a nursemaid!"
"You are today, sister!" Han yelled back, vanishing into the kitchen.
Mara tried to find the right way to arrange her hands but was terrified to move lest she drop the crying baby—the crying baby who seemed to have cried herself out, as her wails started to subside.
She didn't dare look at Karrde. If he was smirking even one-tenth the amount he probably was she might skewer him with her lightsaber, even if she had to manipulate it with the Force to do it without dropping Jaina. Karrde, probably knowing this, didn't tease her. He did step closer. "Here, Mara," he said, carefully helping her rearrange her arms to cradle the baby properly.
"How do you know how to hold a baby?" she asked him, sparing him a glance as Jaina stopped crying and settled calmly against her chest. Mara peered down at the now contented Jaina, the baby's brown eyes blinking curiously up at Mara, her tiny hands awkwardly snatching at the buttons on Mara's tunic.
"Smugglers learn how to do all kinds of things."
Mara gasped softly as she realized the exploration wasn't just limited to Jaina's limbs. There was a gentle, weak prodding through the Force, unformed and inchoate but definitely there. "Oh," she said, swallowing and holding the baby closer. She'd known the twins were Force strong, known that C'baoth had wanted them for exactly that reason…
She let Karrde lead her to one of the couches in the living space and sat down as Jaina's explorations got a bit more active.
"Do you want me to hold her instead," Karrde asked, sounding amused. She would make him pay for this later… and Solo too, for that matter.
"She's stopped crying," Mara pointed out. "Would moving her be a bad idea?"
"I suspect she likes you more than she would like me, so… perhaps," Karrde replied, his audible amusement only growing.
She glared at him, but Jaina tugging on her tunic brought her attention back to the baby.
"Where's Threepio—" Winter hurried into the room from the hallway that led to the bedrooms, stopping short as she saw Jaina and Mara. "Oh," the Alderaanian said, blinking a few times. "Well, that explains where Jaina got to."
"Do you need any help, Winter?" Karrde asked with his normal, polished politeness.
This was not like any dinner party Mara had ever attended before.
"I believe you're providing the most important help right now," Winter murmured, her expression quirking into a smile. "The Princess should be back soon but she was delayed at the palace, Chewbacca needed to do some vital repairs on the Millenium Falcon—" her tone suggested polite skepticism about how 'vital' the repairs to the Falcon truly were "—and Luke should be here any minute now—"
There was a door chime. "Karrde, will you get that!" Han yelled from the kitchen.
Winter was already moving towards the door. She wasn't wearing one of her usual long gowns, but a far more functional plain blue shirt and pair of slacks, though her hair was nonetheless up in an elegant Alderaanian twist.
There was an electronic greeting and Artoo-Detoo rolled determinedly into the room, followed by Skywalker. "Good evening, Winter," he greeted her.
"Luke," Winter smiled. "Master Trade Karrde and Miss Jade are already here, keeping an eye on Jaina for me." She closed the door behind him.
Skywalker's eyes found Mara's, and a slow smile crossed his lips as he watched Jaina tugging weakly at her tunic.
Mara could feel her cheeks start to burn. She lifted Jaina up and was going to hand the toddler to Karrde, but Jaina's brown eyes blinked accusingly at her. With a sigh she placed Jaina back down. Jaina giggled.
Skywalker made his way over to them, still smiling. "Not a word, Skywalker," she hissed at him. "Not a single, blasted word."
"I wouldn't dare," he replied with an insouciant smirk. "If I did, the next time you pull a toy blaster on me it might be loaded with something really dangerous, like hot sauce or custard."
Leia was late, as usual; her hurried footsteps past Palace Security at this hour were no longer a surprise to anyone. Mon Mothma continued to rely heavily on her, and Leia was one of the few members of the New Republic Inner Council who was genuinely trusted by all the New Republic's disparate factions. Consequently, her portfolio of responsibilities steadily continued to grow; just as consequently, she was rarely home in time for dinner. As was typical, she arrived well after dinner was ready; the heady smells from the kitchen stirring hunger she'd let go too long unfulfilled. Winter usually was responsible for making sure she ate while she was at the office, but the demands of dinner prep had sent her home early to help Han with cooking and watching the kids, and Leia had not eaten since lunch (much too long ago, now).
Mara and Karrde were already there and she greeted them quickly. They were sitting with the rest of her family; Han was tending to the kitchen and keeping the food warm and ready, but Winter, Chewbacca, and Luke were all sitting and talking with the two members of the Smugglers' Alliance over an expansive array of appetizers. She wished Lando had been there too, then all the (non-Noghri) members of their Wayland team would have been present. Had she invited Lando she suspected he would've come all the way from Nkllon, too.
When she had been a child, her father had made a point to host gatherings with his close friends and confidantes, as well as his work acquaintances, on a regular basis. They were vital to maintain the tight sense of camaraderie that allowed a community to flourish and thrive. But Bail Organa had possessed an army of servants and seemingly endless wealth, the splendor of Alderaan at its isolationist, pacifistic height. Leia and Han were far from poor, and Winter was worth an army of servants all on her own, but between Leia's responsibilities in the New Republic government (which often felt like all the responsibilities of the New Republic's government…) and the comparative sparseness of their resources, Leia did not host these events as often as her father had. And Jacen and Jaina complicated things.
Still, how often are all of you going to be on Coruscant at once? Karrde will be leaving again, and you never know when Luke will be called away to put a fire out somewhere. And Han is Han—as much as he'd rather be home with the kids, you never know when the New Republic will find a new way to demand his service, Leia, she reminded herself. You can't miss these opportunities.
She went down the hallway to change out of her work clothes and into something more appropriate for a casual gathering, and stopped as she saw the small, domed form of Artoo-Detoo in the hall. The droid's photoreceptor turned to look at her, and she swore the droid was slouching. He whistled at her sadly.
"What is it, Artoo?" she asked him, frowning.
He whistled at her, and she fumbled in her pockets for her translation device. "You can't find Threepio?" she frowned, suddenly concerned. Reaching out with the Force, she felt for danger and found none. "That's odd—"
Wait. Han and Winter preparing for dinner. Two toddlers underfoot. No, Threepio going missing wasn't that odd. She stopped by the hall closet and pulled it open.
Sure enough, Threepio was on the floor in a crumpled heap, the lights of his eyes dark. She bit her lip to hide a laugh, then reached down and pulled the droid to his feet and reached behind him to switch him back on. The droid's eyes flickered as they lit, and the droid started. "Oh, my word," he stumbled, looking around. "I think something must have happened."
Artoo whistled cheerfully, rocking back and forth on two of his wheels.
"Artoo-Detoo? Are you here already? Oh dear, I must have been deactivated." Threepio looked from side to side, stiffening with sudden concern. "Has anyone seen Mistress Jaina?"
"She's fine, Threepio," Leia soothed the droid. "Why don't you and Artoo catch up while we have dinner? You can recharge in the back."
"But Mistress Leia, I haven't set the table yet. Master Han still needs to decide which style of dining arrangement he would prefer to use for the event tonight. I suggested the Chandrilan of course, as that's most appropriate for—"
Artoo blatted at Threepio, turned and started rolling down the hall.
"It's alright, Threepio. Winter took care of it already."
"Oh," Threepio wilted. "Well, very well then." He turned and ambled after Artoo, leaving Leia hiding a laugh and wondering what exactly the protocol droid had done to end up unceremoniously shoved into the closet.
Mara was shocked to find that while Han's plating left something to be desired relative to Woonseer's, the food was flavorful, plentiful, and creative. Han had made both a Corellian and an Alderaanian dish (the latter with Winter's help), and seemed to delight in Karrde and Mara's clear surprise. "What, did you really think I wouldn't be just as great a cook as I am a smuggler?" he'd quite smugly proclaimed, before making a bold attack run on the vicinity of Jacen's mouth with a soft plastoid spoon shaped like an X-Wing. Leia and Luke had both rolled their eyes.
With the main meal concluded, Mara found a seat out of the way in the Solos' living space and quietly observed the chaos from behind a Corellian Sweetcream with a dusting of chocolate. She had understated when she had thought that this was unlike any dinner party she had ever attended before. It bore no resemblance to the staid, formal affairs of the Imperial Coruscanti nobility that she'd attended as Countess Claria, or even the much less stilted but still quite socially-coded events she and Karrde had attended with the various mercantile groups they'd aggregated under the Smugglers' Alliance umbrella. More than anything it reminded her of her time as a barmaid on Phorliss, with the same constant low-level chaos and casual camaraderie.
Karrde was enjoying it quite a bit, she could tell. There was a difference between Karrde's polite-but-not-quite-genuine enjoyment and Karrde's actual, genuine enjoyment of a social engagement, and from the crinkle of his cheeks and the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth he was definitely experiencing the latter. Jaina and Jacen were undeterrable terrors on two pairs of wobbly legs and Karrde watched them, chatting idly with Solo and Leia and sipping a glass of green wine, likely an early vintage from New Alderaan.
Mara found herself again wondering just how much of the manipulation was on purpose. Leia had, quite effectively, drawn Karrde (and herself) into her web of associates—and, Mara admitted to herself in the quiet solitude of her own mind, Leia had become their friend. In so doing Leia had cemented the bond between the New Republic and the Smugglers' Alliance, and quite possibly given herself a new tool to use in negotiations.
But normal people didn't think like that, she berated herself gently. She didn't get any sense of manipulation or machination from Leia, just quiet happiness.
No, she thought decisively, watching Leia lean into Han's side, the smuggler's arm wrapping securely around her waist. Leia might be Vader's daughter, but she isn't Vader. Not in any way that matters.
A sense of longing started to gather in her chest and she didn't know where it was coming from, and she knew even less how to handle it. She reached out in the Force, wondering where Skywalker had gotten to, got a sense of him in the other room, felt a hint of… concern? She sat up a bit, but feeling her reach out to him, the Jedi reached back. It was a problem, whatever it was, but it wasn't a problem for right now, his emotions said. Reassurance tinged with affection brushed her mind. It's nothing urgent, Mara, it whispered. Luke's mental voice clung to the first syllable of her name, as his voice always did when he spoke it, quiet and reverent.
Distracted as she was by the mental touch, Leia settling down on the couch next to her caught her by surprise. Leia offered her a smile, then laughed as Jaina barreled into the couch at knee-level, crawling awkwardly up towards her mother. Leia reached forward and picked her daughter up with both hands before settling Jaina in her lap. The child watched her mother with one of her big, innocent, confident smiles, then looked at Mara and gave her one too.
"That's Mara," Leia said soothingly.
"Ma-ma?" Jaina babbled, looking at Leia and then at Mara.
Mara found herself utterly transfixed by the little girl. I saved her, she realized, a swell of emotion swirling in her. I saved her from C'baoth. I saved her from the Empire. She swallowed hard. I saved her from maybe being me.
"Mar-ra," Leia spelled out the two syllables slowly, holding Jaina to keep her from toddling off the couch.
On the other side of the room, Mara heard quiet baby laughter. She looked over and was astonished to see Karrde holding Jacen like it was the most natural thing in the world, smiling and talking amiably with Han and Chewbacca.
"Ma-ma?" Jaina tried again.
"Mar-ra," Leia replied patiently, emphasizing the second syllable. "She has trouble with the 'r' sound," Leia murmured to Mara.
Jaina blinked, first at her mother, then at Mara. Mara gasped softly as Jaina reached out in the Force again; she heard Leia gasp as she too realized what Jaina was doing. Mara and Leia's eyes met as Jaina toddled across the couch and stumbled and fell into Mara's lap. "Ra-ra?" Jaina babbled.
Leia laughed. "Good enough."
Jaina climbed towards Mara's more determinedly and collapsed against Mara's chest, giggling. Mara held her with both hands, breath caught in her chest. "Ra-ra," Jaina said again, this time with a hint of her mother's imperiousness.
"Sure," Mara managed. "But no one else gets to call me that, understood?"
Leia watched Jaina crawl over Mara fondly. "She likes you."
"I…" Mara looked over at Leia, sure she probably looked completely befuddled. "I think I like her, too."
Leia just smiled. "I won't tell anyone if you don't." She watched Jaina and Mara for a while, then looked around with a small frown. "Where's Luke?"
Mara nodded in the general direction of Leia's office. "Artoo came in and said he'd received a HoloNet message," she replied, grappling gently with Jaina. "He went into your office to listen to it." She glanced in that direction herself, feeling Skywalker's mild tension and concern as his emotions shifted to decisiveness. Whatever the message had been about, Skywalker had just made a decision about what he was going to do about it. But there was no sense of imminence from him. "It doesn't seem to be an immediate problem," she reassured Leia.
Leia watched her pensively. "Did you get a chance to talk with my brother about what's bothering him?"
Mara allowed Jaina to draw her attention, offering the toddler a small, reassuring smile. The baby smiled back. But that was just a transient distraction, and not a sufficient justification to avoid answering Leia's question. "We've talked," she demurred, offering Leia a glance.
"And you don't want to talk about it?" Leia probed gently. She reached out to help Mara keep the crawling Jaina from sliding back onto the floor.
Mara was reluctant to say anything more. It wasn't her place to insert herself into Skywalker and Leia's relationship, even if Leia was the one who had invited her involvement. And she doubted Skywalker would appreciate her sharing his reservations about the relationship between Jedi and New Republic with anyone, including (or especially) his sister. That was his place, not hers.
"Not really," she agreed apologetically. "But I think he's about ready to talk about it."
Leia nodded, picking up Jaina and hugging her. She offered Mara a small smile. "Family," she said ruefully.
I wouldn't know, Mara thought. It was a thought that had occurred to her on and off over the years, especially recently, but never with the full weight of sorrow that came with it now. She looked around the room, watching the Solo family—Han and Chewie talking with Karrde while they all entertained Jacen; Winter sitting on the opposite couch, watching the chaos—she sent Mara a small smile when she caught her looking; Leia and Jaina. Skywalker, whose Force presence was closer now—she glanced over towards the door to Leia's office and caught him standing in the doorway, watching the chaos much as she was. The gaze lingered.
Mara could feel Leia watching her and broke the contact.
Luke walked over and knelt by Winter, speaking quietly. Whatever it was he said made the normally staid woman illuminate with a relieved smile, then squeeze Luke's hand. Mara could read her lips, though she was too far away to hear the words spoken: thank you. Luke patted her shoulder and headed towards Leia, Mara, and Jaina. He settled on the arm of the couch nearest Mara.
"Is everything all right?" asked Leia, her expression concerned.
Luke took a breath, then shrugged. "I'm not really sure," he admitted. "I got a comm from Wedge, and I'm going to need to head out to join him for a while, I think."
Mara's lips tightened. Skywalker was leaving? "Trouble?" she asked.
"Wedge lost a few X-wings in his last engagement. Oh, he's fine, Tycho's fine," he hastened to add at Leia's suddenly pained expression. "All his pilots are fine, even Wes. I just told Winter that Tycho sends his love. But—" he frowned "—he said they ran into a Force-adept armed with a lightsaber, fighting on the other side."
Both Leia and Mara straightened at that. Jaina, sensing the sudden tension, looked around fearfully. Leia soothed her gently. Mara could feel Leia trying to split her attention, sending reassurance to Jaina while paying full attention to Luke. "I didn't know the Empire had any other Dark Jedi," Leia said.
"I'm not sure it does," Luke replied thoughtfully. He turned to Mara. "I suppose we know why I wanted to practice sparring now," he mused.
"Never assume," Mara cautioned him. Her voice softened despite her best efforts. "When do you leave?"
"I think I'll pack my X-wing tonight and set off for Albrion Sector in the morning," Luke replied.
Mara glanced over at Karrde, then back to Skywalker. Karrde's upcoming movements should be kept secret, but having Skywalker along would definitely be helpful on Rendili… "I have a better idea," she said. "Karrde is heading that way himself in a few days. Instead of hibernating in that cockpit of yours, maybe catch a ride with him instead. It'll be more comfortable and you won't lose that much time; I'm sure the Wild Karrde has a faster hyperdrive than your X-wing."
Skywalker offered her a grin. "Think it'll be a more passenger-friendly journey this time? Or is Karrde going to knock me out and lock me up again?"
"Don't tempt him," Mara shot back archly. "He still carries Ysalamiri aboard."
Leia watched Luke and Mara, desperately hiding her smile. Luke departing Coruscant to rejoin the Rogues was hardly good news—she didn't get to spend enough time with her brother (or her husband, or her kids) as it was—but she'd gotten used to the reality of Luke being a Jedi just as he (and Han) had gotten used to the reality of her being the engine of the New Republic.
She excused herself, leaving Jaina in Luke's arms as he and Mara bantered. She slid into Han's arms and let them wrap around her. "Winter is putting Jacen to bed?" she asked.
"Mmhmm," Han swayed gently with her in his arms. "You were late from work today."
She sighed. "Don't start, Han," she chastised him, tucking her head against his chest and hugging him back. "Besides, when I got back I found Threepio stuffed into the hall closet. Again."
Han snorted. "Goldenrod wanted to know which set of our formal silverware we'd be using, and if we were going to set the table using Alderaanian, Coruscanti, or Chandrilan table etiquette. Then he failed to keep an eye on Jaina and she was underfoot in the kitchen at the most delicate part of the cooking process, and his trying to catch her was only making things worse." He shrugged, kissing the top of her head gently. "So... I switched him off and shoved him into the closet."
Leia snickered softly, turning her head. Winter had come back from the bedrooms and was attempting to disentangle Jaina from Luke and Mara, while the two Force users talked quietly with Karrde about their upcoming travel plans. The look of contentment on Luke's face while he watched Mara's utterly baffled incompetence as she tried to get Jaina to go with Winter made Leia want to cry. "He looks so happy," she whispered to her husband.
"Yeah," Han murmured back smugly. "I'm not surprised. He's been smitten with Jade since they met, and that was while she was still threatening to murder him." He swayed with his wife gently. "You should've seen his face at the Katana battle after she got shot down."
Winter finally managed to collect Jaina into her arms. Jaina was unhappy about this development, and Leia reached out in the Force to her daughter, sending waves of reassurance and love. She was surprised when she felt not just one, but two other similar projections of emotional reassurance, and bit her lip and snuggled closer into Han's chest. "She's still coming to terms with her past, I think."
"That's not surprising either," Han replied. "I know a dozen ex-Imperials who've been grappling with their Imperial service for years, and none of them was a personal servant for ol' wrinkles himself." He drew back from his wife and looked down. "Do you want me to talk to her about it?" he asked carefully.
"Maybe," Leia mused. "There are a few people I can ask."
"But none with my guile," Han said with a cocky grin.
She laughed. "No, none with your guile."
Han winked at her, releasing the embrace. "Hey kid!" Han called to the other side of the room, interrupting Luke's discussion with Mara and Karrde. "Come give me a hand with the cleanup will you?"
Luke opened his mouth to explain that he was busy, but Mara stopped him with a hand. She stood. "You two finish planning. I'll help," she said, moving across the kitchen to help Han collect the dishes. He and Leia watched her curiously and she glared at him as she stacked three plates on her forearm. "What?"
"You know how to do this properly? I wouldn't have thought the Emperor would bother teaching one of his agents how to do anything as domestic as clearing dishes," Han said, putting skepticism into his voice that Leia recognized as feigned.
Mara rolled her eyes. "It's been a long time since Palpatine taught me anything," she said witheringly, stacking another plate on her forearm. "I know what I'm doing."
Leia snickered softly, leaning in to kiss Han. "You old scoundrel," she whispered against his cheek.
"Don't you know it," he whispered back, drawing her in for a long lingering kiss—distracting her briefly before dropping her onto the softest pillow of the settee. "Nice to know I can still sweep you off your feet," he murmured against her lips, then abruptly withdrew, leaving her sunken deeply into the cushions.
"Nerf-herder," Leia muttered, clawing herself out of the comfortable upholstery. Once free, she moved to talk with Luke and Karrde while Han guided Mara—dishes now piled high on her arm—into the kitchen.
Mara could feel Skywalker's presence even after he was out of eyesight; feel Leia's gentle amusement at the sight of Mara Jade doing kitchen chores, and Jaina and Jacen's childlike exhaustion as Winter collected them for bed.
It took a moment before Han was comfortable with her in what was quite obviously his space, but after he saw her work Han relaxed. He let her wash, taking for himself the task of drying the dishes and putting them back. "You're pretty good at this," he probed as she let old muscle memory take over.
Mara handed Han a clean dish to dry. "Phorliss," she explained. "After Palpatine died Isard locked me up. I broke out of the Imperial Palace and escaped Coruscant, and to lay low I took a job there as a waitress." She handed him another dish. "What's your excuse?"
"Hey, Leia and Winter are busy running the galaxy, and would you trust Threepio to do dishes?" he retorted. "Besides, when I was a kid the only good days were spent in a kitchen with a stubborn old Wookiee. How long were you a waitress?"
Mara thought about it for a moment. "A few weeks.. maybe a month. I would've stayed longer," she added thoughtfully. "It was the most settled I felt until I signed on with Karrde."
She could feel Han's eyes on her, hear his curiosity. "Why'd you leave?"
Her hand tightened on the dish she was holding. She forced it to relax. "Gorb—the bar's owner—wasn't paying the local Black Sun grunts the way they wanted. One night they came in and shot up the place."
Han nodded knowingly, his expression grim. "Sounds like something Black Sun would do. They weren't very civilized after Xizor's death." He took a dish from her, dried it, and slotted it away. "Or before it for that matter. What'd you do?"
Her green eyes flashed. "I killed them. Then I found their boss, and I killed him too." She scrubbed the last dish with more ferocity than normal. "It was my duty. Restoring just a tiny bit of justice to an increasingly unjust universe." Gorb and Jorshmin's faces flashed in her memory. They'd taken her in, they'd made her feel welcome. She had started to feel safe, and comfortable, and then they were dead, and she was the Emperor's Hand.
She could feel Skywalker's spiking concern, his offer of emotional reassurance and empathy and affection. Mara couldn't decide if she wanted to wrap it around herself like a shawl or shrug it off like an unhappy d'oemir peak bear.
"Well," Han said, putting the dish away. "Next time, you don't have to do it alone."
She looked at him in surprise. "You're not going to chastise me?"
Han poked himself in the chest. "Who do you think you're talking to? I may not have been the Emperor's Hand, but I was Fleet long enough to get a commission, and then I lived the Fringe life too, sweetheart. I know what it's like to want to shove a blaster down someone's throat, and I know what it's like to do it, too. But I always had someone watching my back and keeping me… if not honest, then at least some kind of ethical." He leaned against the long kitchen counter. "You're not on your own anymore, sister. Like it or not, you're part of the clan now."
She stared at him in astonishment. "I don't understand you Rebels at all," she muttered.
Han grinned at her. "Haven't you heard? We're a New Republic now." He grinned more broadly. "And don't tell anyone, but my wife runs the whole show," he whispered conspiratorially. He puffed up his chest proudly. "In my book, that makes her husband pretty damn prestigious, don't you think?"
"Han?" Leia's voice called from the other room. "Han, we're having trouble getting Jaina and Jacen to go to sleep."
"Speaking of which," Han said with a grin, "duty calls." He waved at the kitchen. "Don't worry about the rest of the cleanup, I'll do it when I get back." He trotted out of the kitchen, leaving her watching him with a bemused expression.
It took Mara another few minutes to finish the cleanup, minutes she spent wondering what Palpatine would find more infuriating: the Emperor's Hand having dinner with Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa Solo in the Imperial Palace, or the Emperor's Hand doing the very domestic chores of the post-dinner party cleanup. Either way, his imagined expression was priceless, almost as valuable as having him out of her head.
How did I end up here, again? Of all the places in the whole universe, how did I end up here?
There was a whistle and Artoo-Detoo rolled into the kitchen. The astromech stopped suddenly at the sight of her cleaning the stove, his dome swiveling to look down into the living room, then back to her.
"What," she growled at him. "Have you never seen someone cleaning a kitchen before?"
The droid warbled nervously, placing all three wheels down on the kitchen floor and backing slowly back into the hallway.
"Wait," Mara said, and the droid froze. "Come here," she waved at him.
Artoo made a wary sound, but apparently was either brave enough to obey the order, or not brave enough to try to flee. Mara knelt down and looked the droid in his photoreceptor. "I need you to do me a favor."