Mara kept up a steady rhythm watching the passive face of the jedi. He never reacted to anything she did when he was in his healing trance and she was thankful for that, but it also made him completely unreadable.

She picked up the pace, panting. I haven't been keeping in shape in these last few weeks. Got to do something about that. With a wry thought she thought that maybe this could count as a form of exercise, too. At least it got her pulse up.

I wonder what it would be like if he was conscious? He'd probably refuse me. Mara didn't like that thought. The jedi was hers. But what if he was a proper Imperial, a loyal son of the Empire? Would he then lie there willingly, watch me while I moved? Or would he be like all the other greasy, disgusting men I've had to bed before? Mara remembered one particularly nasty slime, who had laughed when her eyes had misted from pain. At least she had got to kill him later. She had savored the look on his face for a long time afterwards though it had done nothing to take away the memory of his laugh when she hurt. To imagine Skywalker being like that was almost too much. Could he really be like them? Mara found that hard to believe. Skywalker was too honest and calm to be like that. Too gentle. A gentle warrior. What a strange thought, yet that is what he is. He doesn't revel in violence like Vader. He simply doesn't have a violent nature.

It was true, she knew. Despite everything she had done to him he never responded in an aggressive or even angry manner. In fact he was generally quite patient and even had a sense of dry humor, which should not have been possible given his situation. How does he do it? Why haven't he tried to attack me yet? Why can't I break him? It frustrated her how hard it had proven to break the man under her. It was as if he was becoming immune to the pain. Sure, he writhed in his chains and screamed when she really let go, but it was as if as soon as she let up he was back to his philosophical questions, throwing what she said back at her and adding his own touch, his own words.

She let a hand run over his chest. She never knew how long she would need to go on for, so she just kept going until she was sure.

Skywalker was a conundrum. She needed to break him to make him fully hers – and the Empire's – , but everything seemed to glide off him like water off glass. It was as if every time it felt like he was stretched to the breaking point he just sprang back to what he had been before, as if she hadn't done anything at all even though she could see the evidence of her actions. How much longer must I keep this up? Can't he just break already and admit the Empire is better?

She wanted him to become an Imperial, to renounce the New Republic and his rebel friends. She needed it. Otherwise her plan wouldn't succeed. Maybe coming up with a plan that's depending on the jedi wasn't the best of ideas. But he's so powerful! Of course, even without him she could still train the child and raise it as an Imperial prince or princess. It was only the training in the ways of the Force she really needed Skywalker for.

And yet she found herself reluctant to give up. She wanted him with her for their new Empire, to help her make it even greater than Palpatine's. He could do it, she knew. He had that power. The power that had made Vader chase from one side of the galaxy to the other and back again to find him, the power that had made even Emperor Palpatine afraid of him. He had so much power, so much potential, and she drank it in wanting more.

She finally stilled and studied the face of the man below her. She wouldn't give up, she refused. One way or another he would be all hers, and hers alone, and he would be thankful for it.

§

Mara woke. It took a moment to realize it was the alarm of the timer, which she had set to keep track of Skywalker, that had roused her from her sleep. It would beep and inform her of when he moved again after his trance.

She blinked and looked at the time. Then she blinked again this time in surprise. Five hours and twenty minutes. He is healing faster! Shavit! This was a problem; if he kept healing faster and faster then eventually he would heal too fast for her to continue with her pregnancy plan. I may have to step it up again, hurt him more. The thought almost made her stiffen. She didn't find the same enjoyment in bringing him pain anymore as she had at first. Despite herself she had come to have a grudging respect for the jedi, even a little admiration, but she would never admit that to him or anyone else. Of course, it doesn't take that long, and no matter how much time he manage to shave off his healing trances he will still need some time to heal up. There will be a limit to how much faster he can heal. The question is just what that limit is.

Mara bit her lower lip. It was a bad habit she normally avoided, but the situation justified it. It seemed that the torture had served to give him plenty of practice at healing himself, and that meant he was unlikely to die from what she did, even if she overdid it. But it also gave her pause; it could mean he was becoming too strong again, or that she had seriously underestimated him, both of which could be a problem.

She studied the man on the monitor, drinking the water she had put out for him. She would have to stop giving him food again, see if he still healed faster then. She couldn't afford him becoming too strong as long as he was still a rebel. He had to break first.

§

Luke was surprised. His body didn't really hurt, except for some dull pain where the manacles clasped around his wrists. He knew it wouldn't last, of course, but for now he could enjoy the lack of pain.

He looked to his right and saw that today he was given water, nothing else. Of course, I can't expect real food all the time. She might want to keep me alive, but not too strong.

He sat up and reached for the water jug. It felt somewhat primitive drinking directly from the jug, but he supposed that was part of her plan. To dehumanize him, to treat him as less than a human, a person, to break him. He knew she wanted to break him, but somehow it felt like she was dialing back the intensity of the torture rather than dialing it up. It confused him. To break him it made sense to intensify it, not the other way around, but maybe it was just a clever ruse? Or maybe he was simply getting used to this being the way and he was not reacting as strongly to the constant torture anymore?

Luke snorted to himself. That was a cheery thought. He didn't want to get used to this, to this being his life. He wanted to break free, to return home. He just didn't know how. If only he could get his hands on a weapon or a tool to either open or break the manacles or chains. If he could just get free of them he felt he had a chance; Mara relied on the lighting to keep him weak and from offering up any real resistance. Without it he might actually make it out of here.

Of course, there was also the risk that she would overpower him. After all, he had lost a lot of his strength since arriving, and if it came to a fight he knew he would lose any chance he currently had at his main plan; to convince her of the Empire's and Emperor's lies and set her free from them. Not much of a plan, but it's all I have. It would have to be enough. Because if it wasn't then he had already lost.

§ §

She sat staring out the window. She had given up on even trying to work and was raking her memory trying to remember anything about the women at court Winter had asked her about. She had finally gotten to the point where she had had to inform Mon Mothma that she couldn't continue her work, not now. Mon Mothma had looked at her with understanding and empathy, knowing about Luke's situation. The whole Provisional Council had been informed although they did not know the exact details. General Cracken had declared that they needed to keep information tight to better Luke's chances of survival, and Leia agreed with it. Besides she didn't want anyone else to see those horrible holovids, didn't want more reminders of them. She just wanted her brother back, safe and sound.

Is that too much to ask for? Luke... she called silently through the Force. Hear me. Luke!

§ §

General Cracken's eyes ran over the words on the datapad, almost unable to believe them. A slow smile spread across this face. She had made a mistake in sending those holovids and now they were closing in on her and whoever she was in collaboration with.

He leaned back in his chair with a satisfied glint in his eyes. They had a vector now. She had allowed them to gain too much data and she would not escape them and get away with her crimes. You made a mistake and I'll make sure you pay for it even if I have to hunt you halfway through the galaxy. You're not escaping me now.

§ §

She sat on top of him, watching his impassive and serene face as she moved rhythmically. The pleasure of the act had surprised her; she had never liked it in the past, but now, with him, she found that she enjoyed herself. If only she had known what pleasure could be had with him she would have chosen quite a different tactic from the beginning. But it didn't matter now; his body was hers and soon she would have his mind, too.

She smiled to herself and once again focused on his face. She froze. His eyes had suddenly opened and he was looking back up at her, poised as she were over him. Her breath caught in her throat as her worst fears suddenly reared their heads in her mind. Even in his weakened state he was still powerful and if he threw her off now she might never succeed in becoming pregnant.

She stared into those piercing blue eyes, and heard the chains rattle as he moved his hands. Yet she was unable to move, to do anything, but stare. It felt as if he had locked her in place with that stare.

Then she felt his hands touch her thighs, gliding up them and coming to a rest on them.

A shiver ran down her spine. He would grab her now and throw her off and she prepared herself for it mentally.

But his hands never tightened around her thighs. Instead they just lay there as he gazed up at her. She felt mesmerized by his gaze; there was no anger or confusion on his face and in his eyes she saw a quiet acceptance of her, of her need.

Ever so slowly, almost afraid to breathe, she started moving again, never breaking eye contact with him. And he never tried to hurt her or throw her off, accepting that he was hers now.

She blinked her eyes, momentarily disoriented. Then she realized it had all been nothing but a dream. Mara rolled unto her back and groaned. It had felt so real and she had wanted it to be real so badly. Why wouldn't he just accept he belonged with her and not the Republic?

She glanced at the chrono and realized it had only been a couple of hours. Skywalker would still be in his healing trance and Mara should still be sleeping. A quick glance at the monitor confirmed he hadn't moved and was still out.

Mara sighed and rolled unto her other side. She needed more sleep before she was to face the jedi again. My jedi.