A/N: This one took a little long than I wanted, but here it is.

Chapter 5

The interior of the hut was still and silent as Luke started awake and peered uneasily about. Sitting up in his makeshift pallet, Luke attempted to wipe the sleep from his eyes, while simultaneously trying to track down the elusive feeling which had awoken him. The room, however, appeared calm and undisturbed – it was still early morning, the suns having made their appearance not long before, and across the room Lando snored, still deep in slumber.

Deciding it had been nothing more than a feeling, Luke made to lie down once again when it once again struck him – the feeling of thousands of tiny needles jabbing into the base of his skull. It was definitely of the dark side.

Once again Luke sat bolt upright, this time all vestiges of sleep gone as he immediately began questing about for the feeling. However, it remained a vague and intangible feeling of malice and hatred, eluding his attempts to pin it down and track it to its source, filling him with dread. It was eerily reminiscent of Vader's sinister presence, but different somehow – darker.

Intent on finding the cause of the feeling, Luke rose from his pallet. He briefly glanced at Lando, who was still sleeping peacefully, undisturbed by the sensations which plagued the Jedi. On impulse, Luke quickly made his way to bedroom door, poking his head hesitantly into the room to check on the young woman sleeping there.

Arica was not in the bed.

Shocked, Luke quickly checked the fresher, but seeing the door open, he immediately dismissed the possibility – Arica was not in the hut.

Feeling unaccountably nervous at the thought that she might have left during the night, Luke calmed himself and stretched out with the Force.

She was not difficult to find – her presence in the Force was by now more familiar to him then he would ever have thought possible. She was outside, her presence a bright flare, a contrast to the generally empty nature of the planet. As he considered her through the Force, Luke felt a flicker, almost an echo of his now almost forgotten feeling of unease, but before he could latch on to it, the feeling was gone. The sensation which had awoken him had also departed.

Stopping to consider the situation, Luke once again directed his attention toward the young woman. Han loved to tease him about his supposed naiveté and generally trusting reactions toward others, but although Luke usually played along with his friend good-naturedly, he had also not been born just yesterday. Even in the midst of this surprising and mysterious connection he seemed to have developed with Arica, he also knew she was not being completely up front with him. Her mental shields were such that it had been impossible to detect outright falsehoods from her, but by the same token, he was positive she had not told him everything. Of course, they had only had the one brief conversation about her past and her reason for being in Jabba's throne room and one could hardly hope to achieve a relationship of trust based on so short an acquaintance. But he knew the story of her mother being a Jedi and her needing money was not the whole story, or maybe not even the truth at all – she had, after all, no real reason to trust him at this point.

Sighing, Luke ran a hand through his hair, slightly annoyed at this extra level of complexity to his already complicated life. This mission was supposed to be nothing more than a quick rescue mission – pull Han out of Jabba's clutches and then return to the fleet, ready for the next move by the Alliance. According to Leia, a pre-emptive strike on the Empire was in the offing and they could not afford to be held up on Tatooine for any longer – and if what Luke had been sensing through the Force lately was any indication, it was looking as thought the whole thing would be decided in a matter of weeks. And that was without even considering the need to fulfill a promise, one he had been avoiding for far too long already…

Yet now he was stuck with another complication; a connection with a young, Force sensitive woman whom he had just met the day before, but already felt as if he had known her all his life and was more than a little attracted to, if he were honest with himself. It was confusing, to say the least.

Knowing he was not about to discover the answers to his questions standing in the hut, Luke made his way to the door, exiting without waking Lando.

Ignoring the already oppressive heat of the day, Luke shielded his eyes from the glare and peered about. He spotted her immediately as she was seated on the edge of the large rock formation close to Ben's hut. Luke could feel no darkness coming from her – whatever the feeling he had sensed earlier was, she was not its origin. She sat facing away from him, her legs curled up under her body, her head bowed – her whole demeanor bespoke a great weight on her shoulders, a trial or anxiety so great it consumed her. She was very unhappy – that much he could sense.

Taking care not to hide his presence, Luke approached her. Even so, he was no more than a few meters away from him, when he saw her suddenly stiffen and felt the brush of her consciousness against his own as she became aware of him.

"What do you want?" she demanded, her voice flat and cold.

Instinctively Luke knew not to mention his real reason for waking. "I grew up on a farm not far from here," he said with a shrug. "Living on a moisture farm, you don't get used to sleeping in."

Arica glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, although she did not completely turn in his direction. "Grew up on a farm." At his nod she continued, "Well then, Farmboy, I can tell right off that your time growing up on the farm did not teach you how to dissemble – so I suggest you don't bother. Now, what's really on your mind?"

Luke grinned in response – his acquaintances had all told him repeatedly about how poor of a liar he was. It was hardly surprising she had noticed it too. "Just a feeling, nothing more… Although what I told you was the truth – I did grow up not far from here and am not in the habit of sleeping much later than this anyway."

"Yes, yes, you're an early riser, got it," she snapped. "But what do you want with me? You must have some purpose in coming out here and I doubt it was to gaze at the wonderful scenery."

"Do I have to have a reason?" Luke demanded, becoming irritated with her accusatory tone of voice.

"Oh come on, Farmboy. You must have some reason for coming out here looking for me. Frankly I would have expected it more from your friend than from you."

Keeping his temper with some effort, Luke turned away. Her Force sense told him she was upset about something but he was also oddly certain whatever was bothering her, it was not the fact he had come out to speak with her.

"Lando's not so bad when you get to know him," he said at last.

"He wasn't hitting on you," she retorted.

"No and for that I am profoundly grateful."

For once, Luke was rewarded by the brief smile which appeared on her face. It did not last long, however, being immediately replaced by the intense scowl she had worn when he had first joined her on the rock formation.

"Look, Farmboy," she began, her manner tentative, "you may mean well, but I simply don't trust very well. I don't expect you to understand, but I have my reasons."

Her hesitant confession told Luke all he needed to know. Although he wanted her to stay, to get to know her and find out what the connection was between them, he also knew she would not be persuaded. Even after so short an acquaintance, he knew she was a strong individual with self-admitted trust issues and if he attempted to get her to stay, he was certain she would resist and close herself off even more.

"Arica, I understand we've just met and I don't expect you to begin to trust me immediately. I know you were pulled into this business with Jabba and I don't blame you for being upset at the way things turned out. Look, we're going to be here for another day, but that doesn't mean you have to stay. I can take you to Anchorhead or Mos Eisley if you would like to leave."

He half expected her to jump at the chance to leave – he was not expecting the sudden surge of fear he detected from her. Her eyes widened at his words and she locked her gaze on his – Luke could almost see the fright in her eyes.

"I wouldn't want to inconvenience you," she responded quickly.

"It's no trouble at all," Luke responded, wondering at her strange attitude. At first it had seemed she wanted nothing more than to be away from him and now she almost seemed afraid to leave. "I'm heading out that way anyway," he continued. "If you have someone waiting for you, or a transport to get off the planet, I could simply drop you off wherever you need to go and you can leave."

She watched him for several moments, her brows furrowed, her manner suspicious. "I thought you were staying until tomorrow – at least that's what you all decided yesterday."

Luke looked away from her and peered out at the vast expanse of the desert, his mind far away as he contemplated his errand. He had not been back since that horrible day… had not even been back to Tatooine until very recently. It was a task he was not looking forward to, but knew he had put off for far too long. If he was ever to have closure on that part of his life, he knew he would have to face the demons and put them to rest.

Realizing he had been silent for too long, Luke glanced back at Arica, finding her eyes still fixed on his face, her expression intense and more than a little curious. He ducked his head and murmured, "I have a personal matter to take care of…"

Arica, however, did not get the hint – or she ignored it. "Personal matter?"

"Yeah, a personal matter – as in personal," Luke snapped back at her.

He instantly felt remorse for his hasty and rude words as he saw her expression change to a scowl. He was trying to get to know her, for Force sake; snapping at her was not about to improve her disposition toward him.

"I'm sorry, Arica," he said quickly before she could utter a scathing reply. "It's kind of a painful thing for me. I know that's no reason to snap at you."

Her eyes narrowed as she considered his words, before ultimately softening slightly. She turned away to gaze out over the vast expanse of the desert, more to avoid blistering his ears with another retort, Luke sensed, than for any other reason.

"Look, Arica," Luke began, "it's no big secret – just a painful topic for me which I have never truly come to grips with."

Her eyes turned back toward him and Luke sat there, thinking, wondering how much he should tell this mysterious woman. She was an enigma thus far. She seemed determined to avoid getting to know him or any of the others – something which made sense if she planned to leave at the first opportunity, but not so much if she was intent on staying for a while. He could sense she was uneasy in his and the others' presence – whether she had been alone for too long, or if her mother had kept her apart from others deliberately, Luke was not certain. Somehow, if he was to come to know her better, he would have to defrost the cold exterior she presented, something he was not certain she would even want. But there was the connection to consider as well – Luke very much wanted to know what it was, why they had linked up so quickly.

It would not be easy, but somehow convincing her to stay until they had had an opportunity to discover what it meant seemed extremely… important.

"I mentioned I grew up close by…" Luke began in a halting manner, realizing with a certain level of surprise he was about to tell her what he had shared with a very few others. "The day I left home, my aunt and uncle were killed by stormtroopers…"

Her eyes widened in surprise, but she gave away no other reaction, nor did she speak.

Feeling the sorrow he had felt on that day, almost as thought it was a recent occurrence, Luke continued. "They were looking for the droids… had tracked them to our moisture farm… I had gone out looking for Artoo that morning because he had left to look for a Jedi Master. If I had been there…"

It was almost too much for Luke to continue, but steeling himself, he forged ahead. "The events of that day were the catalyst, the impetus for me to finally leave this dust ball and head out into the galaxy. I left the planet without looking back, joined the rebellion and in time began training to be a Jedi. But in all that time, I've never been back – this is something I have to do…"

"I must put the ghosts to rest."

Silence greeted his words and he sensed Arica was struggling, not knowing what to say.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she finally murmured, looking somewhat embarrassed.

Luke smiled, amused by her awkward way of expressing herself. The urge to know her better was suddenly that much stronger.

"The loss is old," he replied with a shrug, the gesture far more casual than he felt. "I don't truly mourn them any longer – it has been four years after all. It's more… the… responsibility I feel for their deaths… I keep thinking I could have done something to prevent it. I haven't been back in all that time… It's time I visited once more – bid them goodbye."

"I can understand that," she said, glancing at him again.

"So, what about you?" Luke asked, eager to change the subject. "You've told me you're a dancer and that your mother was a Jedi, but nothing more. I felt your presence when I approached the throne room and the brush of your consciousness against mine."

"I sensed you approaching," she replied, her tone indicating it was of no consequence.

"Did you receive much training from your mother?" Luke pressed, intensely curious.

Arica shook her head, her manner appearing somewhat… evasive. "She maintained it was safer for me to remain untrained. She showed me a few rudimentary skills and I have picked up some on my own, but I don't know much."

"Well, I'm hardly a Master, but I'd be happy to give you a few pointers."

Arica looked up at him, astonishment affixed to her features. "You'd be willing to do that?"

"Sure," Luke responded with a shrug. "Like I said, just don't expect much – I'm still just learning myself."

Her responding smile was uncertain and tentative, but no less beautiful for that, enticing Luke's thoughts into a completely different direction. He had known she was attractive – would have been blind not to notice – but when she smiled, a full, genuine smile, her face lit up and Luke was struck with exactly how beautiful she really was.

Mentally shaking himself away from those thoughts, knowing she would be less than accepting of his regard, Luke ducked his head and stood, intending to leave her and prepare for his excursion. His thoughts were arrested, however, when Arica peered up at him, a resolute, determined expression on her face.

"Going to visit your old home?"

"Yes," Luke began, wondering at her sudden change in mood, "I'd like to get back early as I will be leaving tomorrow."

She looked confused momentarily at his pronoun use, but seemed to ignore it, carefully placing a small smile on her face. "Would you like some company?"

Luke simply stared at her, shocked at her suggestion – she had seemed more inclined to avoid him at all costs. It was a complete change in attitude and Luke was uncertain of what had prompted it.

"I wouldn't mind the company," he responded slowly. "Are you certain? It's not like it would be very interesting for you…"

"What else is there for me to do?" she asked rhetorically. "I suppose I could just stay here and be hit on by Calrissian…"

An image of an ardent Lando, wooing a decidedly uninterested Arica from bended knee, overly flowery words spilling from his lips, entered Luke's mind and he chuckled softly. No, if he was any judge of character at all, Arica would not enjoy Lando's attentions in the least.

"I suppose I could use the company," he told her, giving her a knowing smile. "You can come along. Let's get something to eat quickly and get out of here – it will take us a while to get there."

She nodded in acquiescence and the two stood together and walked back to the hut, each wondering at the strange turn their conversation had taken and the journey now before them.


The desert was harsh and strict, exacting its price from all who toiled in its depths – an unfeeling, merciless killer to those who did not respect it. On most planets, areas of desert were to be assiduously avoided, shunned in favor of more hospitable and attractive climes, a haven only for those hardy and wanting solitude, or those desperate and seeking a ready place to hide. On a planet such as this, where the desert was massive and planet-spanning, the unwary or unprepared could measure the length of their lives in mere days, if not hours. Given its inhospitable nature and the difficulty living here presented, it was a wonder anyone managed to eke out a bare existence at all. Still, for all its difficulties and hazards, Tatooine held a certain beauty, discovered only by spending some time in its furnace-like atmosphere and examining what the planet had to offer.

As the speeder raced across the vast expanse of the Dune Sea, Mara sat in the passenger seat, her mind occupied with the vista spread out before her weary eyes. The light was brilliant, an overpowering display of white-hot rays from the dual suns which, reflecting off the shifting sands and exposed rock, increased and amplified the effect, causing her eyes to fatigue and her head to throb painfully. The trip to Jabba's palace and the subsequent voyage out to the Sarlacc pit had been taken in covered vehicles – this was the first time Mara had been subjected to the murderous light to any great degree.

Through the light and haze of the day, the landscape of the desert planet had a strange, understated appeal – something Mara would never have imagined could exist before arriving here. The windswept dunes flowed across the vista, the patterns intricate and fascinating, at times completely random and at others almost familiar, tantalizing her senses with almost recognizable images and vague impressions. Off in the distance, the light reflecting off the desert floor created a mirage, an empty promise of an oasis in the wasteland. And she knew there was flora of a sort, a few hardy plants which not only survived, but thrived, amazing her with the tenacity of life and the struggle to survive. Its beauty was austere, but it was there nonetheless, from the clear and utter blue of the sky to the surface of the planet ravaged by the wind and the light of the suns.

Sighing softly, she pulled the wide brimmed hat down over her eyes a little further, grateful Skywalker had seen fit to lend it to her – she shuddered to think of the effect the suns would have on her fair skin without it.

Skywalker. He was still an enigma, a contradiction to her eyes, not only when contrasted with the information contained in her files, but also in his actions since she had crossed his path, both in his interactions with others and with her directly.

His brutal efficiency and cold implacability during the battle on the sail barge spoke of his ruthlessness toward his enemies – her files had spoken plainly of the man's pitiless resolve and his intention to overthrow the legitimate galactic government. Seeing him in action only reinforced the threat he posed – a threat she knew she had misjudged badly.

On the other hand, he was generally calm and kind in his dealings with others and had been nothing but respectful and considerate in his interactions with her. She had half expected him to treat her as an inferior, a sub-being not worthy of his attention and consideration.

She shied away from that last thought, uncomfortable with the knowledge that her expectations of what Skywalker would be like were actually very close to what she knew her master was.

And his offer to teach her of the Force…

Of all the contradictions and shocks she had endured in the last several days, this was perhaps the most surprising of all. It was nothing like she had been taught to believe of the Jedi of old – they had been a mystical order, closed and secretive in their dealings with the galaxy and jealously protective of their knowledge and powers. None of the Jedi of the Old Republic would have offered to teach her – a stranger and outsider – anything of their abilities. According to her master, they would rather have tried to indoctrinate her into their ranks and ways, holding off vital information in the use of her powers until they were certain of her loyalty and their ability to control her.

She was uncertain what she should do.

Her master had ordered her to become closer to Skywalker and learn from him, but did that include his offer to instruct her in the ways of the Force? Would he want her tainted by what he would consider to be the heretical teachings of a long-dead order of misfits and troublemakers? Had he foreseen the Jedi's suggestion and seen it as a way for her to gain Skywalker's trust, or was this a test of her loyalty? Or could he even have imagined Skywalker making this suggestion in the first place?

It was all so confusing.

One thing she was aware of – whatever connection she had felt between herself and the Jedi, whatever had been the compulsion which had stayed her hand when she should have acted without hesitation and mercy, she was no more able to ignore it than she was able to fly across the sands on thought alone. Somehow she had been caught, snared in a situation for which she was unprepared and unable to disengage. She had no choice but to ride it out until its conclusion, hoping she would not get trampled and left for dead in the process.

The speeder began to gradually slow and her eyes immediately picked out an anomaly in the otherwise flat expanse of terrain. A small dome rose up out of the desert, its adobe sandstone walls bleached almost white by the light of the suns.

They had arrived.

Turning to Skywalker as they slowed to a halt in front of the structure, Mara immediately noticed a change in his visage she had not seen before. His face had changed, as though it had been replaced by a mask – an expressionless, intimidating caricature of the usually open, affable state of his features.

She could feel the effort he was expending to hold his feelings in closely.

The vehicle stopped and Skywalker quickly jumped out, leaving Mara to scramble out on her own and hurry to catch up. He gazed around the area, eyes intense and focused – Mara could almost see the memories, events of a young life as they flitted across his mind. She followed his eyes, noting the large pit situated behind the dome, the old, weather-beaten equipment – or what was left of it – which jutted up in various locations around the small homestead.

There was nothing moving, nothing living that she could tell – nothing but the ghosts of Skywalker's memories.

Skywalker turned to her, looking seriously into her eyes, seeming to remember he was not alone. "You don't have to come, Arica," he said, his voice soft, almost inaudible. "I appreciate your company, but these are my demons to face – not yours."

Mara snorted at the ludicrous statement – they had hardly spoken a dozen words on the trip out here. The word 'company' was perhaps overstated. "I've come this far, Farmboy – you look like you could use the companionship."

He smiled briefly and somewhat falsely, to Mara's eye – whatever front he put up to hide his feelings, this was obviously affecting him more than he wanted to admit. "I probably could, at that," he responded, glancing back around at the homestead. "Let's go then. Please stay behind me. There shouldn't be anything dangerous in here – maybe a womprat or two – but I wouldn't want to put you in danger."

Resisting the urge to remind him of her ability to take care of herself, Mara merely nodded, aware he was the one with the knowledge of the environment and its dangers. It would only be prudent.

They started down the worn steps to the interior of the abode, a glowstick held in Skywalker's hand providing the illumination to the interior of the building. Although it had not been obvious from the outside, the scars of the attack which had claimed the lives of his relatives were evident in the scorches which marked the inside of the building. They moved from room to room, Skywalker's gaze taking in every detail. The burned out kitchen unit, the cooler in the corner and cooking unit along the far wall damaged, melted beyond repair, the sparse furniture, including table where she assumed their family meals had been eaten, had been reduced to heaps of slag on the floor. There were understandably no ashes from wood, trees being extremely scarce on the planet, wooden furniture being an exorbitant luxury – one these poor moisture farmers had certainly not been able to afford.

In another room, one she assumed had been a bedroom, the fire had caused much less damage before it had burnt itself out, but there was nothing left of any value, as she would have expected. No doubt Jawas would have gotten to the remains within days of the event and cleaned out anything of value from the site.

From the interior of the house, they descended down into the depths of the pit, where the remains of the machinery, droids and power converters, as well as various pieces which she assumed had once been moisture vaporators, lifeblood of the farm, sat where they lay, scattered about in random fashion, a remnant of the vibrant dwelling this had once been.

The desert had already begun to reclaim the homestead from the interlopers – heaps of sand and dust piled high along the walls of the area, some higher than Mara's head. In a few years, nothing would be left of the settlement but memories and a few broken and twisted pieces of metal – those would remain, preserved by the dryness of the atmosphere and the absence of any kind of rusting agent.

Through the whole experience, Mara watched Skywalker, noting the expression on his face, which remained the same stoic mask he had worn since they had arrived, the places he looked and the emotions he kept firmly in check, but sometimes escaped from his control and slipped out through his shields.

The sights of his childhood were affecting him severely.

"Not much left, is there?" he murmured into the still air, his voice an intruder into the silent gloom of the destroyed homestead.

It was a rhetorical question – one Mara knew did not require an answer. "So you grew up here?"

"Yeah," he responded. "This was all I knew when I was a boy, except for the infrequent trips my uncle would take me on to Anchorhead. When I was a little older and could handle a speeder or skyhopper on my own, my only thoughts were the next trip to see my friends and how I could escape from this prison. If I'd only known…"

Mara did not know what he meant by the last comment and sensed asking him about it would earn her nothing more than a stony silence. "Do you want to talk about it?" she surprised herself by asking. The Mara Jade from two days ago would not have cared about his, or anyone else's feelings.

Skywalker's eyes darted to hers in surprise and for a brief moment, the flicker of connection sprang into life, causing Mara to shudder – in that instant, it had been clear he had felt it too.

He seemed to gather himself with a shuddering breath and began to speak. They sat on an outcropping of rock which stood near the entrance to the dwelling and he began speaking, telling her of the events of his youth.

He spoke of his childhood, the early memories of his aunt and uncle, of playing in the house and the love between the three family members. This period of his life he only spoke of briefly before moving on to the stories of his youth, his time as a restless teenager, certain in his belief of his destiny for greater things than to be stuck for the rest of his life tending a small moisture farm on a barren planet in the far reaches of space. He related his experiences, flying abilities and racing skyhoppers with friends, helping around the farm, his aptitude for machinery – an ability for which his uncle was often extremely grateful – and his growing agitation as he had grown older and worried he would never be able see the stars, as he had always dreamed.

But underlying all of his stories was the comforting presence of his guardians. He told her of his uncle and aunt – his relationship with them and life with them as they had struggled against the hostile environment, their next big harvest always around the corner. She sensed that 'next season' had almost become a joke for the Jedi, as it had always been the next year which would bring them the harvest they had always strived for, the one which would make them wealthy.

His uncle, she sensed, had sought to protect his nephew, but whether he had known of Skywalker's Force sensitivity or had simply wished to keep him on Tatooine and away from the great struggles and conflicts of the galaxy, Mara could not say. But whatever his intentions, Mara suspected his insistence in Luke remaining on the farm and postponing his entrance into the academy had served to drive a wedge between the two. His aunt, it seemed, had served as a voice of calm reason between the sometimes acrimonious dealings between the two men.

And through the entire narrative, Mara was able to glimpse another side of the man she thought she had known through her files. Luke Skywalker was much more complex, more of an enigma than the simple rebel and killer the Emperor had made him out to be. Was this by the Emperor's design? Had he distorted the information deliberately in an attempt to deceive her, to steel her to carry out his orders without hesitation, or had he simply been misinformed as to Skywalker's true character?

Either option was equally distressing to the usually unflappable Mara.

And the irony of the situation did not escape Mara. If his uncle had let him go early, or if the stormtroopers had never shown up, Skywalker would likely have entered the academy and be fighting on the Emperor's side, rather than being one of his most implacable and wanted enemies.

As Mara listened to his narrative, he launched into another story of his teenage years, some amusing anecdote she would be hard pressed to recall later, his words taking on an almost dreamlike quality. Mara sat entranced by the sound and inflection of his voice, the way he gestured when he spoke, the excited, almost boyish enthusiasm in his expression and tone, and wondered at the man she was seeing in front of her. This was the real Luke Skywalker – no matter what the Emperor or her files said. She had been allowed a glimpse into his soul, one which was clearly untainted by the crimes and motivations her master had laid at his door.

At length, his voice slowed and stopped, the rush of words spent, and they sat in companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts, but comforted by the other's presence. The suns had made their way across the landscape of the planet and the corner in which they sat was now emerging into the direct light of the two stars.

Skywalker suddenly stood and motioned Mara to stand as well. "I have one more thing I need to do before we leave, Arica," he said, and motioning her away from the rock upon which she sat, ignited his lightsaber. He then proceeded to cut out a large piece of the rock, its shape vaguely similar to that of a pyramid, perhaps one meter wide and half again as long on its base, tapering up to a point on the top about a meter and a half tall at its apex. His strokes were careful and precise, yet quick, the work of a master swordsman.

He then raised his hand, and using the Force, levitated the large rock up the side of the pit's walls and over, out onto the floor of the desert beside the derelict homestead – causing Mara to wonder at the casual competence he displayed in the use of his gifts.

Motioning Mara to follow, he made his way back through the scarred building and out to where the slab sat waiting, its edges by now having mostly cooled from the heat of his lightsaber.

He once again used the Force and positioned the massive rock to the side of the building about ten meters away and re-igniting his lightsaber, began to carve some words into the side of stone.

"I buried their remains here," he spoke softly, as he continued the work of carving the words into the side of the stone. "I used whatever tools I could find which were not damaged in the attack."

Pausing, he glanced up at her, a slightly sheepish look on his face, before returning to his carving. "Perhaps it was foolhardy – the whole time I was working I kept looking over my shoulder, afraid the stormtroopers would return. But I knew I couldn't just leave them there. They were my only family, my parents in every sense of the word, and they didn't deserve what the Empire did to them. This was the only way I had at the time to honor their memory."

And then it struck Mara – the whole time he had talked of his aunt and uncle, he had spoken of them as though they were his parents. But not one word of his real parents had crossed his lips. Whether he simply did not want to discuss them or did not know who they were, he had made no mention of them, causing Mara to wonder who they were. To produce such a powerful son as Skywalker obviously was, one of them at least was likely to have been very powerful, maybe even one of the Jedi.

This set off a new chain of thoughts, causing her to wonder how much her master knew of this young man, or how much Vader knew, for that matter. With a last name of Skywalker, a very distinctive name, it was likely they had known, or at least known of his parents, if indeed they had been Jedi. And the Emperor had wanted him dead – and subsequently changing his mind, had decided to wait until the young Jedi was brought before him, or 'give himself up' as her master had insisted he would. She felt as though she were looking down at a jigsaw on a table, yet half the pieces were missing.

Her musing came to an end as Skywalker stood and deactivated his lightsaber, his eyes fixed on the inscription he had carved into the face of the stone.

Owen and Beru Lars

May they forever rest in the embrace of the Force

Mara glanced up from the inscription to Skywalker's face and was immediately captivated by the tears she saw rolling down his face. His gaze was affixed on the stone and he was murmuring words through barely moving lips – she knew instinctively he was saying a final goodbye to the only parents he had ever known.

And suddenly, Mara felt something move within her – something she had never felt before in her entire life. It was wonderful and frightening at the same time and she found she could not put a name to it. It was compassion, affection and even a hint of pride all rolled into one – this was a man who had weathered the storm, had fought through everything life had to throw at him and had emerged the better for it. He was scarred, but intact. And for that alone, he would always command her respect.

Then he looked up, the sorrowful look completely replaced by one of intense concentration and concern. His hand moving to the deactivated lightsaber which hung from his belt, he motioned Mara toward the speeder.

"We've been here too long," he told her by way of explanation. "I'm sensing many beings approaching – Tusken Raiders, unless I miss my guess. We need to get out of here."

Grimly, Skywalker removed his lightsaber from his belt and stepped in front of her. "Stay behind me," he commanded, his tone of voice allowing no disagreement. "I will deflect any blaster fire and take any with Gaffi sticks; you cover me and try to pick off the ones with blasters."

Mara nodded and eased her holdout blaster out of its holster, taking up position behind and a little to the right of Skywalker, far enough away to be able to use her blaster without fear of hitting him, yet close enough for him to be able to cover her.

As they turned away and made their way around the side of the old building to where the speeder was parked, the sight of a party of the desert dwellers approaching them from the opposite direction halted them in their tracks.

Immediately and as one, the Sand People bellowed their rage and defiance and charged at the two humans, weapons bared.

This is getting ugly, Mara thought distractedly as she aimed at one of the Sand People and squeezed the trigger.