A/N: My apologies for the wait on this one. I wanted to address a question which came up in the reviews.

This will not be a complete rewrite of RotJ. The story is focussed on Luke and Mara, so it will cover their experiences during this time period. As the Battle of Endor and the assault on the shield generator, etc have been covered at length, I see no need to revisit them. You will see most of the major events in the movie that Luke was part of, but there will also be several new scenes, things which deal with him and Mara that I imagine would have happened should she have been present in the movie.

Now without further ado, here is the next chapter!

Chapter 3

A cacophony spilled out over the Dune Sea, the angry roaring of the combatants, the cries of the wounded, the staccato bursts of blaster fire and the loud humming of a lightsaber all blended into a jumbled mix as the battle for Jabba's sail barge raged on unabated. It flowed around the Jedi, he being its instigator and perpetrator, his lethal weapon leaving dead or injured enemies in his wake. To an uneducated onlooker, the conflict may have seemed a mismatch – one lone man with a mêlée weapon against many of the Hutt's most trusted and skilled minions, most with the ability to deal death from a distance.

Nothing could be further from the truth. The Jedi used his glowing blade to hack through all in his path and blaster bolts from his enemies were blocked with great proficiency, deflected directly back at his hapless enemies more often than not. It was a one-sided affair to be certain, but the scales were tipped in the opposite direction one would have expected, Skywalker's enemies falling as leaves in a gale – Jabba's men were no match before the might of the last of the Jedi.

And they knew it. While many continued to struggle on against the inexorable weight of his sword, yet still others had seen the way the battle was going and decided that no matter how much the Hutt was paying them, his was a dying cause. The ground around the sail barge was littered with those who had already abandoned ship, jumping over the side and running, or stumbling away into the desert and the doubtful mercy of the murderous suns.

For Luke, the mêlée was taking on an almost surreal quality. He had grown up on this planet, for years feeling somehow different than his friends, as if he could somehow see more clearly, understand more deeply. Now he knew he had used the Force unconsciously many times growing up and knew the times his uncle had given him looks of uncertainty or fear, it was because he had known what Luke was doing and had worried for his young charge – worried that Luke would inevitably follow in the footsteps of his infamous sire. Luke knew he was following his father's footsteps, although not in the way his uncle believed. His father must have been a Jedi at some point and Luke was determined to be a Jedi like his father. The trick was to avoid falling to the same fate.

He had grown up in the past year, his journey a difficult one characterized by fear, heartache, pain and loss – loss of his hand; a loss of innocence. But he knew he had come out of it a stronger person. He knew he had acquitted himself well in the duel on Bespin all those months ago, regardless of the outcome. He had simply been unprepared for the raw power and presence in the Force the Sith Lord possessed. But he had learned and adapted, growing ever more confident in the Force and his own abilities. He was now as far beyond the level he had been on Bespin as his level on Bespin had been above the level he had been as a boy.

It was a heady realization, knowing no matter what they threw his way, these thugs were completely beneath him; they were nothing before him but minor obstacles to be brushed aside. Of course, with that realization came responsibility and a need to control himself – such thoughts were dangerous and could easily lead to pride and the dark side.

But he knew he had handled this whole affair in the proper manner, one befitting a Jedi. The dark path would have demanded he enter Jabba's palace swinging his sword, gutting the place and killing all who crossed his path. He had not. Jabba had had every opportunity to avoid this confrontation but had rejected Luke's overtures again and again. Now was the time for justice and a reckoning for the loathsome gangster.

Out of the corner of his eye, Luke noticed Leia coming up from the deck below to join the mêlée, her eyes fixed on Luke as he battled a small group of thugs. Luke strode forward, his lightsaber scything through enemies, a green blur of destruction. With the enemies out of the way, he pushed the gunner off of the bow gun with the Force, the gunner's scream registering distractedly on his mind as he moved to engage a new group of thugs who now charged at him from the opposite direction.

"Leia, get the deck gun and take out the other one before they destroy the skiff!" he yelled, sensing Leia's agreement and movement toward the now unoccupied deck gun.

Luke moved to engage the new group of enemies, dispatching them with a few easy swipes of his lightsaber, when suddenly he felt a warning shouting out through the Force. Desperately, Luke twisted his body, willing himself out of the way of the blaster bolt he knew was heading in his direction. His movement was as fast as thought – but not quite fast enough.

Pain erupted in his hand and his lightsaber flew out of his grasp to land, deactivated, on the deck meters from his feet. Luke whirled around, his eyes searching for the enemy who had managed to sneak behind him, his face falling in astonishment at the scene which met his eyes.

Behind him, less than twenty meters away, stood the woman from Jabba's throne room. In her hand, she held a small, wicked looking blaster pointed in his general direction and on her face was an expression of utter shock. Half way between them lay one of Jabba's guards, his body still smoking from the blaster fire which had taken his life.

For the second time that day, Luke's gaze met and locked with that of the strange woman and he found himself once again drowning in an ocean of emerald green. The diaphanous blue silk of her costume streamed out in the wind, flying along with her fiery hair, giving her the look of an avenging angel. This time, in the heat of the moment, he could feel the current flowing between them, almost a physical connection to her soul. The sensation lasted less than a second, but was no less intense for its brevity.

Luke once again broke his gaze from her, his eyes seeking out his damaged hand. There was a hole in the synth-skin on the back of his hand, its edges blackened and slightly curled from the laser. The nerve endings had gone dead, burned away, so there was no pain. He flexed his hand and saw the mechanism through the hole respond immediately – instantly a wave of relief washed over him as he realized he would still be able to use it.

Chiding himself for his earlier feeling of invincibility and overconfidence, Luke glanced around looking for any other threats, but Jabba's thugs had apparently decided they had pressing business elsewhere – there was no one in sight other than himself and the princess, who was busy firing at the other end of the barge.

Luke stretched his hand and called the lightsaber once again into his grasp, turning his attention back to the dancer. She was still gazing at him, her features etched with astonishment, her blaster arm had lowered until the weapon was pointed at the deck.

He caught a glimpse of movement behind her and without thinking, hastily pushed through the Force, catching the thug that had slipped in behind her off the edge of the barge. The dancer's eyes widened and she shifted to a defensive stance, as the sound of the thug's scream echoed as he fell into the pit below. She whirled around, realizing his attack had not been directed at her and when she turned back, there was something different in her gaze, something Luke could not decipher, but whatever it was, it certainly wasn't threatening.

Luke reached out, offering a hand to the woman. "Come on, we need to get off this thing."

She regarded his hand if it was a rabid gizka, her eyes flittering from the hand back to his face. At length she moved toward him, ignoring his hand completely, joining him in front of the deck gun, her eyes darting warily around the deck.

Shaking his head and trying to focus once again, Luke turned back to Leia. "Point the gun at the deck," he instructed, and looked around for a means off the barge. Immediately spying several ropes hanging down from the remains of the ruined rigging, Luke grasped one and tugged on it experimentally. When it seemed strong enough, he glanced back at the two women who were watching the area for any threats, Leia managing the gun which was now pointed at the deck, the mystery woman surreptitiously watching him as she scanned the area for any threats.

"Well, I guess I could I could take two trips," he muttered under his breath.

The redhead gave him a look of disgust. "Not on your life, Jedi boy," she sniffed with disdain. "I can take care of myself."

Luke nodded, understanding instinctively she could do just that. "All right, you go first," he instructed. "We need to get off this crate immediately."

The woman gazed into his eyes before stowing her weapon in a holster strapped to her inner thigh. She stepped forward and took the rope from the Jedi. After another quick, searching look into Luke's face, she gathered the rope to her and jumped, gracefully swinging across to the waiting skiff.

Luke turned back to Leia. "Come on," he said, beckoning her forward. Then, kicking the trigger to the gun, Luke gathered Leia into his left arm and the two of them swung away from the barge as the shell exploded into the deck causing the ship to shudder violently.

Once back on the skiff, Luke glanced back at Lando, who was now manning the helm. "Let's go, and don't forget the droids."

Lando grinned back at him. "Already on our way."

They swung near the now burning barge, where Lando lowered an electromagnet and latched onto the droids. More explosions rocked the sail barge and its repulsors suddenly lost power, sending the massive vessel plummeting toward the sand below. The skiff sailed away from the death throes of the barge, dodging debris spewing out from vessel, until finally out of range, the members of the little party breathed a sigh of relief. Han let out a whoop and crushed Leia to him in an enormous hug. The action broke a dam and soon the companions were back-slapping, hugging and congratulating each other over their successful escape.

Through it all, Luke responded good-naturedly to the congratulations, all the while keeping his eyes on the one occupant to the skiff who had not joined in the general revelry. She sat in the bow, her arms wrapped around her shoulders, her gaze fixed off in the distance, but Luke knew that whatever she was staring at, she was not seeing – her thoughts were obviously far away. Almost as if drawn by a magnet, the rest of the company followed his eyes and they quieted as Luke moved forward to confront the addition to their party.


What have I done? Mara asked herself, her thoughts a random jumble of confused emotions and half-understood feelings.

She had had him – of that she was certain. In her mind's eye she could see it all. The Jedi striding forward to confront a group of thugs, his back turned to her, his lightsaber swinging. She could see herself step out from behind the crates, train her weapon on his back, her hand moving on the trigger. All it would have taken was for her to apply the required pressure on the trigger mechanism and her mission would have been complete – she could have returned to her Master in triumph, knowing she had done her duty and protected the Empire from her Master's enemies.

Why had she hesitated? Had it been the grace of his movements, a whisper through the Force? Or had it simply been something within her, something which had rebelled at the thought of ending his life, of forever not knowing what had passed between them, what this connection which had suddenly appeared consisted of.

Whatever it had been, it had prevented her from killing him when she had the chance, stayed her hand, where in the past she had acted without hesitation or mercy. Then the thug had appeared from nowhere, sneaking behind the Jedi, aiming his weapon to kill. She did not know how or why, but suddenly her instincts had kicked in and instead of killing Skywalker, she had shifted her weapon's sights and gunned down the thug, catching him just as his own blaster went off. She could still see the blaster bolt as it hit Skywalker's hand, exposing the intricate circuits, burning away the false flesh.

Afterward it had been all she could do to function – staring at her handiwork, the mess her mission had just become. Even when he had offered her a way of the ship, turning his back on her once more, she had been too unbalanced to act.

Something had happened in the course of this mission, something undefined, yet on some subconscious level understood and accepted. And whatever it was, it somehow held her in its clutches, changing her, molding her into something she had never been before. A part of her was frightened at this intrusion into her life – she who had always prided herself on her control and rational judgment – while a part of her was secretly thrilled at the thought of sharing something with someone else. She had never had that; all her life she had been essentially alone, a pawn in her Master's game of galactic domination – a trusted and deadly pawn, but a pawn nonetheless. She knew her Master would discard her without a moment's hesitation or regret if she proved unworthy.

And after this debacle, she knew her Master would not be happy with her. She would be lucky to escape with her life.

Mara was disgusted with herself. Life as his servant was all she had ever known, all she could hope to look forward to. Whatever she was to him, he deserved all the loyalty she could give him. He had saved her, had taken her in when her parents had died, given her a home, training and a purpose in life. Whatever his methods and motives were, whatever he thought of her, she would continue to give him her all, and if that included the death of Skywalker, then so be it. She would give her life if necessary – kill the Jedi in front of his friends and then die knowing she had fulfilled her purpose, given her all for the stability of the Empire.

She glanced furtively at Skywalker and his friends, all celebrating their successful escape from Jabba's clutches. No, the time was not right yet; there may still be an opportunity to kill the Jedi and still escape to continue her service. She would bide her time and wait for the right moment, striking when least expected, but not shirking from her duty or hesitating as she had done previously. She would complete her mission.

"Hello," a tentative voice intruded on her thoughts and she once again found herself gazing into the eyes of the Jedi. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she snapped, irritated at the Jedi for what he had done to her.

Skywalker's face betrayed nothing as he regarded her dispassionately. "I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to introduce myself before. I am Luke."

"Arica," she grumbled, turning back to the front of the skiff, hoping he would go away.

"Nice to meet you, Arica," he responded, causing her to look once more at his face. "Thanks for the assist back there on the sail barge."

Mara regarded him blankly for several moments, knowing it should never have happened – she was supposed to be his executioner. The silence however, was becoming uncomfortable and Mara knew she would have to say something to maintain her cover.

"You're welcome," she grudgingly bit out. "Some Jedi you are – to be caught by someone sneaking up behind."

Skywalker did not bat an eyelash at her spiteful statement. "Maybe so," he conceded in that irritating mild voice of his. "Let's just say I'm new at this whole Jedi thing and there are still some things I need to learn."

Mara clamped her lips down, silencing a stinging retort which immediately sprang to mind. It would do no good to antagonize the Jedi – after all, she wanted to keep close to him until she had her chance to fulfill her mission.

"It's okay; it was chaos on that barge, you can't see everything."

"True enough," Skywalker acknowledged and they lapsed into a strained silence, both aware of the strange emotions each had felt around the other – the Jedi seeming too off-balance to bring it up, Mara wishing that whatever it was would just go away.

Finally the Jedi sat down on the deck across from her, irritating her even further. He was not precisely sitting too close or invading her personal space – it was more the fact that he was this comfortable in her presence, felt that the connection between them was sufficient for him to lower his guard that annoyed her. And she knew that it was silly for her to feel this way. She wanted him off his guard and comfortable with her so that when she finally struck, she would not have to deal with a wary target. It was a testament to the affect he was having on her, how badly he had affected her equilibrium.

"So, I must admit to being curious," Skywalker suddenly spoke, startling her from her thoughts. Schooling her features to a neutral expression, she motioned him to continue.

"I couldn't help but notice," he continued hesitantly, "you're Force sensitive and I was wondering what you were doing in Jabba's palace."

Mara gazed at him in consternation, once again aware of something she had overlooked – that the Jedi had honed in on like a laser. She hadn't even considered his knowing of her Force sensitivity and coming up with a plausible explanation. And now, with her silence, she had almost certainly blown her chance to deny any knowledge of the Force.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, thinking furiously of a plausible explanation. "I didn't think you would notice."

Skywalker smiled, his eyes lighting up in what she could only call amusement. "It would have been extremely difficult not to notice; you're kind of like a beacon."

"My mother was a Jedi," Mara blurted out, trying to come up with a believable story, hoping he would not sense the lie through her shields. "She escaped the purges and went into hiding. A couple of years later she became pregnant and I was the result. Don't ask me about my father – she never told me who he was or how she had met him. Or anything really."

Mara felt distinctly uncomfortable with Skywalker's eyes boring into her, searching, seeking through her very soul for the truth. She was slightly unnerved by the intensity of his gaze, but she steeled herself, knowing everything depended on his believing her. If he suspected her, he may simply kill her right here and dump her body over the side – he was completely ruthless. The fight on the barge had proved that fact, if her Master's files on him had not already confirmed it.

"How did you get here?" he asked, his eyes alight with curiosity.

"My mother died two years ago, but she taught me to be a dancer. That's what she did while we were hiding from the Empire. I was having trouble finding work and the Hutt paid well – I thought I'd work there for a few weeks, long enough to make a few credits and then leave to find work in a better place. Your arrival put an end to that – I hadn't even been paid yet."

Skywalker's face turned to sympathy and he started to reply, when she cut him off. "Look Jedi, I don't want your pity. Jabba was scum and the way he treated his dancers and slaves, he deserved to die. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and I'd really prefer not to discuss it any further."

The Jedi seemed as thought he would like to push the discussion further, but ultimately nodded. "Thank you for understanding…"

He was suddenly cut off by a voice from the back of the skiff. "Luke, I think you should have a look at this."

Skywalker glanced back, freeing Mara from the intensity of his eyes. She breathed a sigh of relief and followed his gaze back toward the rear of the skiff, where the dark skinned man was pointing off to the side of the racing craft. In the distance, she could make out what seemed to be a huge cloud towering kilometers into the sky, the air held a hint of a dry, burnt scent to it – almost as thought the desert were burning.

Skywalker abruptly stood up and looked out at the strange cloud, a concerned, almost worried look on his face. "Sand storm…" he murmured before standing and walking to the stern of the craft.

She watched the cloud in consternation and then noticed Skywalker calling the entire group closer. Warily watching the storm and Skywalker both, Mara scrambled to her feet and approached the group, noticing how most of them regarded her as suspiciously as she did them.

"You will all have to gather in close," he began, instantly in control of the situation. "I will pilot the skiff and will skirt the storm as much as possible, but we may have no choice but to go through it at some point."

Solo squinted out into the gloom. "How will you know where you're going? Looks pretty bad to me."

"I can guide us through the Force; Artoo can also help navigate."

Although he looked skeptical, Solo kept his mouth closed nonetheless. Mara personally had no doubt he could do what he claimed – his use of the Force was a convincing display of his capabilities.

"Can't we take shelter in a cave or something while it blows over?" Organa asked.

Skywalker shook his head. "Unfortunately Leia, we're in the middle of the Dune Sea and there are no rock formations for hundreds of miles. Our best bet is to get closer, gage the strength of the storm and head to Ben's place. From what I can see of the storm, it looks like we should be able to get back without having to go through the worst of it."

Taking over the controls, Skywalker set a course toward the left edge of the storm. "Han, Lando, Chewie," he said, calling the group's attention again. "When we get to the closer to the edge of the storm, the three of you will have to help protect the women. They aren't exactly dressed for this weather."

The dark skinned man – whom she assumed was Lando peered around at the others and then turned his attention back to Skywalker. "What do you suggest?"

"Put Leia and Arica in the middle and you, Han and Chewie can sit around them and shield them with your bodies. At least you have a little more clothing and protection than what they are wearing."

Mara could not believe what she was hearing. "Are you out of your mind?" she demanded. "If you think I'm going to snuggle with your friends…"

"You don't have a choice, Arica," Skywalker interrupted in his sickening, mild mannered voice – she was already beginning to hate the sound of it. "Sand storms are very dangerous and dressed the way you are, the best you could come out of it is with severely chafed skin. At worst, a sand storm can flay the skin right off your bones."

Mara gaped at him, snapping her mouth shut at the sound of the light snickers she heard from the two men. We'll see, she thought angrily to herself, as she moved away from the loathsome group and back to the bow of the small craft to stare out at the approaching storm.


So it was that Mara found herself huddled with Skywalker's friends not long after, grateful for the meager protection the three offered – it galled her to admit even to herself that he was right. Even with the two men and the Wookiee surrounding her, she could still feel the sting of the wind-blown sand as it struck her skin in places where it was exposed. She shifted uncomfortably, aware of her close proximity to the princess. In all her time in training and as Emperor's hand, Mara had never been encouraged to become physically close to another being. Some of the missions she had undertaken had required a certain amount of contact, but she had never been in a situation quite like this – she was not quite certain exactly how this felt, but it was more than a little disconcerting, not to mention frightening.

To make matters even worse, the man he had called Lando had immediately sidled up behind her and pressed himself against her back, no doubt completely by design. If she hadn't been certain of the effect of the blowing sand on her skin, Mara would have thrown the slimy man over the edge of the skiff.

Sighing, she tried to relax – at least Lando was not groping her.

If he does, I swear I will throw him off the side. Kriff Skywalker and his kriffing storm and his kriffing friends.

In the back of her mind though, she could still feel the Jedi as he calmly piloted them through the edge of the storm to safety, one hand shielding his eyes, the other steady on the controls. At least she could not fault his skills at the helm.