Luke Skywalker's quarters, Yavin IV. 12 ABY.

Luke cast an apprehensive look over the sleeping trader who tossed fitfully in his bed. She moaned, and Luke moved closer towards her, touching her bare arm gently. Mara wavered on the verge of consciousness for a few moments, and Luke waited for those eyes to flutter open and meet his. He wasn't sure how she would react, but it would relieve his heavy heart immensely if she showed any signs of waking. Her eyelids flittered and Mara let out another soft moan, but did not wake. She settled back into a deep, if not comforting sleep.

Luke sighed, and pressed his hand to her forehead. Her skin was clammy, and far too warm. Luke inspected her closely, looking for any sign of change. Mara's face was pallid and white - even the freckles that speckled her cheeks were not visible. Sweat glistened around her hairline and forehead, but Luke didn't dare lower the temperature of the room, nor remove the blankets that covered her. Not since she'd begun to shiver uncontrollably a few hours before. She'd been asleep for many hours, and the rest had not seemed to have improved her condition much.

Naturally, Luke blamed himself. He'd been the one who'd asked her to stay with him - sit with him, heedless of the heavy rain that poured down upon them. It had seemed so right and he had been so comfortable in her presence that he'd lost track of the time. In their shared meditation, hours passed by him in seconds and night had long fallen by the time they'd emerged.

And then she had collapsed in his arms outside her ship. It had been too late to wake Cilghil who had only just returned from Mon Calamari and retreated into a long resting trance. Since there was no one else close to a healer or medic on the moon, Luke had brought Mara back to his quarters, where he could keep an eye on her.

He'd been frantic as he'd lain her in his bed, concerned that her condition was something serious. His worry outstripped his embarrassment at removing her drenched clothes, though he had enough sense to respect her modesty by leaving her thin, sleeveless undershirt and shorts on. They were not as damp as the rest of her clothes, and Luke didn't want to risk her wrath if she awoke to find herself undressed fully. He didn't particularly think she'd react very favourably as it was. But Luke found that he would welcome any lashing from her, so long as she was lucid and healthy enough to do so.

A hurried inspection of her body revealed a small circle of bites around her left ankle, an indicator of Massassi bugs. How they'd gotten into her boots, he didn't know, but he was sure her trek through the jungle had been the cause. Usually, the bugs were harmless, but had been known to cause a fever in certain cases. It was most likely that Mara had suffered an allergic reaction to the bites. The stint in the rain had certainly not helped, and had more than likely aggravated the condition. It seemed that Mara's immune system was not as stubborn as her nature.

He'd spent the night awake, beside her, holding her hand and soothing her through fever-induced nightmares. He'd never suffered from the sickness himself, but a few of his students had, and told him of the horrible dreams they'd experienced under the effects. They'd spoken of the worst moments in their lives, replayed for them, twisted and horribly real. Luke shuddered to think what demons may be haunting Mara's fever-sleep. He knew that a Force trance was not going to help her any, in fact, it might prolong and sharpen the hallucinations.

It pained him greatly to hear her cry out, to toss fitfully, to fight him when he went to hold her, to comfort her. Eventually she'd quietened down, only letting out an occasional whimper or unintelligible murmur, and he'd finally taken her in his arms. It had felt so strange, to hold Mara in such a way - he'd certainly never allowed himself to be so close to her, but he felt circumstances warranted the act of comfort.

He'd lain next to her in the wide bed - on top of the covers, to be safe, his arms closed tight around her, sending restful thoughts to her through the Force.

Luke had called for Cilghil in the morning, who's confirmed his diagnosis of Massassi fever. It should clear up in a few days, she'd said, depending on Mara's strength and the amount of rest she received. Under no circumstances, was Mara to get out of bed, Cilghil had warned, or the symptoms would worsen. Luke readily agreed, but was concerned how he was actually going to implement the order once Mara awoke.

Cilghil had then inquired after his own health, and Luke had felt her hard scrutiny. He hadn't looked in the mirror for a while, but due to his lack of sleep and worry over Mara, he knew he probably was not looking at his peak. He'd quashed her concerns, effectively, he believed, with a promise to take better care of himself. As soon as Mara was healthy again, he'd added as a silent afterthought.

As Cilghil left, Luke asked for her silence in the matter, for Mara's sake, if not his own. Luke knew she would feel uncomfortable around the Jedi and students, if they knew that she'd been brought down by a small insect. And her visits to the temple were sporadic as it was, he didn't want to prolong her absences any further.

Luke then returned to Mara's bedside, smoothing out the sheets and blankets that had become tangled about her legs. He took her hand and willed her with all his strength to fight.

There was fire all around her. Scalding her skin, marking her, burning her with its unimaginable intensity. She walked for hours, but did not seem to advance anywhere. All she could see was the past - every kill she had made, played out for her in vivid colour and sound. She saw the look on her own face - cold, calculating. Merciless.

Her own, twisted soul, the eyes of her victims, their screams. And the fire - red like blood, yellow like the eyes of her Emperor. He heard his laugh, somewhere in the distance, and then inside her head.

He demanded her surrender, her pledge to the dark. It would save her, he promised. She would rise above pain, above death. He would give her freedom. His voice was taunting... and then seductive, urging her to surrender to the darkness.

Mara struggled against the void that threatened to envelop her; the black tar that clung to her body, tainting it, spreading across her skin uncontrollably.

She called out, but smoke filled her lungs, lining them with ash. She tried to breathe, but only succeeded in inhaling more of the thick dust. She wheezed in panic, falling to her knees, a position she swore she would never be in again.

Then - above her there was light - not very intense, or clear, but enough to penetrate her black surroundings. There were eyes, not looking down on her, but raising her up... a brilliant, vivid blue that she knew so well.

Luke?

"Luke?"

The feeble word fell out of Mara's mouth, and Luke clutched her hand tighter. He'd only left her side for a few minutes, to prepare some tea for when she awoke, when he'd heard her cry out from his bedroom, caught in another feverish nightmare. He was at her side again in an instant, and took her hand in one of his, as the other reached out to stroke her hair, willing her to calm down. She'd settled almost immediately, her panting, struggled breaths easing to a more normal pace, her frame relaxing back into the bed.

It was then that she'd spoken, a soft, almost questioning whisper of his name. Luke looked at her in shock, seeing her eyelids flutter, but remain closed. Was it possible she could sense his presence beside her? The thought heartened Luke's resolve. If she could sense him, then she must have some grip or perception beyond her fever.

"Mara," he probed gently into her psyche, careful not to push where she would not allow him to go. He could feel her though, rocking gently between sleep and awake, struggling to fight back to consciousness. Her eyes quivered again, but this time, opened to reveal slits of a dull green.

"Luke?" she called again, stronger this time. He tightened his hand around hers excitedly, but she flinched and her face twisted in pain. Realising he had squeezed too hard, Luke released his grip but did not let go. Mara opened her eyes a little more, and her dry lips parted as she rasped a troubled breath.

"Mara?" He studied her face intently as her eyes travelled around the room before they slowly came to rest on him. Strangely enough, she did not seem surprised by his presence, only by her surroundings.

Mara tried to speak, but a rough couch escaped her lips instead, and Luke rubbed her arm sympathetically. Mara closed her eyes, composing herself, her small hand reaching to cover her throbbing throat.

"Where am I?" she managed to whisper.

"In my quarters on Yavin," he answered, relieved that she at least could speak. She gave him an inquisitive look. "You collapsed last night," he added hurriedly. "From Massassi fever. It's not dangerous, so long as it's being treated." Luke attempted to give her a weak smile, and was not surprised when she did not return it. But then her gaze travelled down to where her hand was clutched in his, where their fingers were intertwined.

Suddenly embarrassed, Luke attempted to extract himself and pull away, sure that Mara was about to pull a hidden blaster on him. Not that she had any place to hide it, but the woman he knew was nothing if not resourceful. So it came as a great shock to him when Mara clasped his arm with a surprisingly strong grip, her eyes sallow and pleading. The action confused Luke greatly, knowing that in any other circumstance, Mara would have cut off his hand for daring to touch her when she was in such a state. But the woman who looked back at him was so different... she looked almost frightened.

"Don't leave me," she whispered almost inaudibly, and Luke felt something constrict inside of him. He reminded himself that Mara was still heavily under the effects of the virus, and not fully lucid or emotionally balanced. Luke remembered how she had called out in her sleep. How she must have felt so alone. Of all people, Luke knew what that felt like. Gently, he pried her fingers away from his forearm, careful to signify that it was not a rejection.

"Rest, Mara," he said softly, laying her arm down on the blankets and gently patting her hand. "I'll get you something to drink." Reluctantly, he left her side, hurrying to the kitchen to fetch the tea he had prepared earlier.

"From the bark of the Massassi trees," he explained as he returned, and helped her to sit up to an angle from which she could comfortably drink from. Mara wrinkled her nose slightly at the sight of the dark purplish drink and eyed him suspiciously. The familiar look made him smile as he placed a supportive hand at the small of her back. "It will bring down the fever," he encouraged her.

That seemed to satisfy her, but as she reached for the cup, her fingers shook and her body swayed, seemingly overcome from a bout of dizziness. Luke's hand moved from her back to her shoulder blade, helping Mara steady herself through the wave of vertigo. Gently, he brought the cup to her lips himself, relieved when they parted and allowed him to pour the liquid gently into her mouth. Mara tilted her head back slightly, closing her eyes as the soothing liquid flowed down her throat. Pleased at his progress, Luke continued until the she had drunk all of the tea, then helped her ease back into the bed

"It's hot," she murmured as her head fell back into the pillows.

Luke smiled, and pulled back some of the blankets he had covered her with. "You were shivering earlier." Uncovering her body, he drew his eyes away from the bare skin he'd exposed, willing himself not to notice exactly how thin her undershirt was. "Tell me when you get cold again."

Mara's dusty gaze settled on him. "Why are you doing this?"

Taken aback by the question, Luke stared at her for a few moments, unsure of how to answer. "Because... you're my friend," he said eventually, wincing inwardly at how trite that sounded. "You're not well, of course I'm going to take care of you," he finished uncertainly.

"There's a medcenter in the complex." Mara eyed him strangely.

The words caught Luke off guard. She was right, of course. Why exactly had he brought her back to his rooms? "Well... I hate medcenters," he countered in a voice which contained more confidence than he felt. It was the truth, he'd spent more than his fair share in medcentres which were cold, impersonal and not conducive to healing. "You wouldn't want to be stuck there."

"Better to be stuck here you mean," Mara murmured as she closed her eyes again, and Luke took her hand. Minutes passed as he watched her chest rise and fall as she took in shallow breaths. It was strange, this side of Mara he was seeing.

Logically, he knew that it had been there, buried deep beneath the bitter, tough exterior. But it was an entirely different matter to see it emerge and experience it. To hear her voice without that sharp baiting wit, to feel the weight of her hand in his, knowing that she would not pull away. More than anything else, Luke felt privileged. And confused.

He'd always cared about her, that much was clear to him. But when she'd collapsed in his arms, when he'd felt the weight of her against him, lifeless and unmoving... he had been scared. Terrified that he would lose her, that she would become yet another loss that he had to bear. At this time of his life, Luke didn't think he could handle any more grief.

No, he realised - it wasn't just now. Luke knew there would never be a time in his life where he would be able to bear the loss of Mara Jade. And that thought alone confused the hell out of him.

Dragging himself out of his ruminations, Luke risked as glace at Mara, still lying peacefully on the bed. She appeared to have drifted off to sleep again, so it came as somewhat of a surprise to Luke when she spoke softly.

"I thought I was dying." Her eyes remained closed, but there was no mistaking her words. Luke didn't answer, but tightened his grip on her hand lightly. "I couldn't breathe - couldn't see anything." Mara's eyes opened, revealing something Luke had never seen within them. Tears. "It was so dark." Her lip trembled and she looked away, towards the wall. "And all I could think was that I deserved it."

Luke shifted further up the bed, closer to her. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing". Mara took a ragged breath, and her eyes fluttered tentatively. Luke noticed her ashen face become a little paler. "It's so hot in here," she murmured, her breath quickening. Deftly, Luke reached to the side table by the bed and retrieved a bowl of cool water and a cloth. Carefully, he pressed the dampened material to her face and neck, alarmed at how heated it had become.

"It's alright, Mara," he soothed her, trying to remind her of his presence. Gradually, her breathing stabilised as her eyes focused on his. Keeping her gaze, Luke continued to whisper comfort to her as he continued to run the damp cloth over her skin, pleased when it began to cool down. Eventually, Mara lay still again, her dull eyes still locking on his like a lifeline.

"I was scared Luke," she said, so softly Luke strained to hear her. "That it was because of everything I'd done." She swallowed heavily but to her credit, her gaze did not waver. "All the people I've killed... I saw them. And he was there..." Luke didn't have to ask who she was talking about. "He... told me to give in to it... to let the darkness take me... and I wanted to..." Her pained eyes broke away from his, and Luke reached up to cup her cheek.

"But you didn't Mara," he told her, resolute. "You were strong and you fought it." His fingers gently caressed her jaw, and he smiled at her, urging her gaze back to his. "You're not that person anymore."

"How can you be so sure?" Her eyes were filled with such uncertainty, Luke was struck by how vulnerable she seemed, how much she craved his reassurance.

"Because despite what you may think, I do know you." He moved to take her hand as he noticed her eyelids beginning to become weighed down. "Now rest."

"Will you stay with me?" she asked, her words drifting into the air as she began to fall back into unconsciousness.

Softly, Luke smiled, and moved closer to her. "Of course, Mara." He shifted his body until he was laying beside her, their hands still gripped securely together. "I'll be here for you."

Three days after her initial infection, the fever had finally worn down, and Mara awoke to full lucidity and coherence. Unfortunately, her anger at him also returned. The moment she had awoken, her eyes were vibrant and full of malicious intent. In horror, she regarded his close position to her on the bed, and their joined hands. She immediately snatched her appendage away, glaring at him.

"What's going on, Skywalker?" she demanded.

"Mara, you've been sick, I'm taking care of you." He pulled away from her and withdrew to a safe distance. "Don't you remember?" he asked, already exasperated.

"No."

Luke wondered if she was telling the truth or if she was simply embarrassed at how much she had opened up to him. It must have hurt her pride to know he'd seen her in such a vulnerable position. The look in Mara's eyes betrayed more of a discomfit and awkwardness than a genuine lack of understanding.

She glanced down at the undershirt and shorts she was wearing, quickly covered her body with the blankets and eyed him angrily. "Did you enjoy undressing me?" In anyone else, it might have been a playful taunt, but in Mara it was a severe accusation.

Luke sighed, knowing that the only thing he could rely on was damage control. "I didn't look."

"Sure." She attempted to stand, wrapping the blanket around to cover herself, but Luke was back beside the bed in an instant, holding her gently but firmly by the shoulders.

"No, Mara," he insisted. "There's too much danger of a relapse."

She struggled against him regardless. "Don't be ridiculous, Skywalker. I feel fine." She shrugged off his grip and he reluctantly let go of her. Awkwardly protecting her dignity with the sheets and blankets, Mara attempted to walk from the bed, only to sway dangerously and begin to fall. He was there to catch her, but she ruthlessly batted his hands away and fell back into the bed, unfortunately into the midst of a coughing fit.

The ugly, rasping sound filled the room as her chest shuddered with the intensity of it. Luke ignored her previous rejection and moved close. He placed one hand to her back the other to her sternum, supporting her slight frame through the exertion. He was intensely relieved when the coughing subsided, and tried to draw her into a comforting embrace, but a single glare stopped him.

Glowering, Mara cleared her throat. "So... " she managed to rasp. "How long am I going to be interned here?"

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Luke stepped back and took a seat in the chair beside the bed. "You aren't a prisoner of war, Mara," he said tiredly. He saw her open her mouth to dispute the fact, but he quickly cut her off. "Massassi fever is no common galactic cold. You have to rest until the virus is completely free from your system, or it will come back again - and worse."

She was silent for a few moments as his words sunk in. "Massassi fever?"

"It's quite interesting, really," Luke said, handing her another cup of tea that was waiting beside the bed. "The bugs that live in the Massassi trees cause the disease, and the bark itself helps to counteract the effects."

Mara reluctantly drank the tea, pondering his words. "But so many things are like that, aren't they," she said finally, as she looked away. "The power to give life... the power to take it away." Her eyes captured that look again - that mixture of grief and regret that Luke had come to recognise.

"I suppose." Luke hoped she would continue, to expand on what she had told him, but when Mara looked back, the scowl had returned.

"So, how long?"

"A few more days," he admitted reluctantly. "Maybe a week."

"A week?" Her tone was indignant. "I know most women would boast about spending a solid week in your bed, Skywalker, but I tell you now, one of us isn't going to survive it."

"Well if you leave the odds are against you, Mara," Luke felt his irritation rise. "And they're stacked pretty heavily." A mischievous and quite enjoyable thought came to him. "You can leave, and face almost certain death, or you can stay her with me." He looked at her sternly, hiding the small gratification the words gave him. It was not every day he was able to back Mara Jade into a corner. "Up to you."

She sat in silence for several minutes, her face betraying nothing. "Well?" he prompted eventually.

"I need to think about it."

Luke shook his head wearily and left the room, wondering if all the progress he'd made with her the past few days had been in vain. He'd finally thought he'd broken through to her, only to be yanked roughly back to the outer fringes of her tolerance.

But, he supposed, that's how it was with him and Mara. One step forward, three steps back.