CMC

by Sapadu

This future must not come to pass. A Wish that must be granted. Justice that must be delivered. Spoilers for most every book there is. (23-Jan-2023 update: Dead fic)

4. Chapter 3: Theory of Forms

CMC

By Sapadu

Part I: Denial

Chapter 3: Theory of Forms – Immaterial, abstract Forms and Ideas – such as mathematics – serve as the key to enlightenment and greater knowledge. These abstract Forms exist in a plane that all minds have access to, but no words properly represent the full meaning of the Forms.

At five-hundred hours, Mara Jade Skywalker was already awake and prepping for the day.

Her first notion, peeling off the much abused shirt she'd worn to sleep, was rinsing her hair – this new product was supposed to be less of a hassle than her old color, but if it required hours to set before it could be washed, Mara didn't see the appeal. On the other hand, it was a lighter color than her old shade of red-gold, so any spots she missed would just look like natural striations in her tone, rather than standing out.

"Good morning, my name is Mara Jade, and these are my gray hairs – would you like me to introduce you all?" She muttered to the mirror, infinitely grateful that Luke was such a heavy sleeper in the mornings. It was bad enough knowing that blasted droid of his was watching her as she rinsed and started the steamer.

While lathering the soap, she ran through her itinerary for the day – check-in with Jaina, see to it that the missions of every Jedi on task were going as assigned, review assignments with members of the Council, then the meeting with a representative from the Senate, to review the needs of assignments and allocation of resources...

So many meetings. Mara wished that she could just get a mission, herself – something to do, some sort of challenge. The bureaucracy and paperwork were killing her.

Then, after lunch, there was a review of the budgets, and that was always bound to result in a nasty fight or two over which mission got the better supply, and then...

The door to the fresher slid open, which could only mean Luke had finally pulled himself out of bed. Or Mara had been in the steamer for too long...

Speaking of, Mara realized, Luke had a completely different schedule than she did – both because there were matters that were absolutely crucial for the Grand Master to see to, and because there were assignments who saw being greeted by a mere Master or even a mere member of the Council was a grave insult.

And being greeted and business attended to by the WIFE of the Grand Master? Well, clearly it was because the Jedi wished to snub someone, not at all because there was only one Luke Skywalker and he only had the same twenty-four hours in his day as everyone else.

Over the sounds of the running water, she heard Luke spit out his denta-rinse into the sink, then the cough and groan she'd become so accustomed to hearing at various points through the night. The kind that Luke always told her she made when she'd had something too spicy to eat that backfired on her in a few hours.

If you keep doing that, how long before you need to see a medic about it? She wondered, before the realization set in that this would probably be all they saw of each other today.

"Farmboy." She called, and was caught between amusement and irritation when Luke jumped at the sound of her voice.

"...Mara." As she peeked through the crease in the door, she saw Luke shake himself, "...Good morning."

"Always the tone of surprise." She noted, dryly, before taking a mock-suspicious tone, "Unless you were expected someone ELSE in your sani-steamer this morning..."

Mara heard Luke snort, then cough again and attempt to regain his normal breathing pattern.

"No – I knew it was you. You just... startled me."

Mara supposed she should appreciate that Luke was still willing to be honest with her about something as trivial as being startled when he was still half-asleep – that everyone else got the mask, the perfect, composed, collected Master Skywalker, and she got her farmboy, Luke – but she was also impatient with how little of that farmboy she was actually getting.

For pity's sake – it had been two months. And with the twins having taken Ben off to Ord Mantell for a week, she would have thought that having that extra privacy would be... but, no!

"I know." She reassured him, "While I've got you here, could you hand me the derma scrub-bar?"

The sound of the medicine cabinet opening, something being lifted off the shelf, closing. The sound of Luke's footsteps on the tiles. The whoosh of steam pouring out as he cracked the stall door open.

"...Mara?" His voice sounded less groggy without the glass. Mara just pulled her hair off of her shoulders and turned as slightly as she could – and the expression on Luke's face was certainly worth it.

"Think you could get my back for me?" That earned a nonplussed blink, "We've both got busy schedules – this is the most we're going to see of each other all day..."

Luke's face disappeared, followed by the rustle of cloth as he was undoubtedly fumbling to shuck off his own pyjamas. Mara bit back a grin when she finally heard his feet step behind her in the spray.

"You're not seeing much of me if I'm just scrubbing your back." His voice pointed out in her ear. Mara let a chuckle go through her and reached behind to grab his free hand and place it on her belly – his fingers somehow naturally fitting into the folds of the wrinkles and stretch marks that she would never admit made her ticklish when he touched them. The scratch of the scrub on her back paused as Luke pressed his nose against the back of her neck, "It has been awhile that we've had time to ourselves."

"Yes..." Mara felt like her voice ran through the both of their bodies, this time, especially when Luke's other arm wrapped around her and pressed them closer together. They hadn't even really slept together properly in the last few weeks – just collapsed from exhaustion, and it happened to be in the same bed. Some nights, not even touching back-to-back.

"I miss you." Luke mumbled against her shoulder, and Mara felt her stomach plummet when she realized it wasn't the tone of a husband saying he missed his wife – more like that of close friends saying they'd missed each other.

Well... she'd be lying if she said she HADN'T missed that, too...

"I miss you, too..." She murmured back, resting her hands over his.

...but, damn it, it had been TWO MONTHS.

~.~.~

Dawn found Ben Skywalker still abed, much to the displeasure of his parents, though his mother more vocally than his father.

"It's your own fault for going to bed so late last night - now get up." In all fairness, she was wrong about the 'last night' portion of her sentence, as midnight is technically considered a morning hour. Ben disregarded his mother's voice and attempted to hide under his pillow. This was prevented as his mother pulled his blanket off.

"Look at you – a sniper would get you through the window and you wouldn't even know it." She scolded, while Ben attempted a vain recapture of his blanket.

"...Mercy..." He managed to plead.

"No, sir - mercy stops at midnight." She replied, with no real malice in her voice, but plenty of annoyance. It was thus, with great reluctance, that Ben crawled out of bed and attempted to get ready for the day.

There was schoolwork – the usual boring math problems, and endless questions about people who were dead, and Ben might have put down answers more related to characters in his hologames or something because he'd forgot the actual lesson but remembered the story, but at least his parents didn't look at his homework, and he just had to put up with the educator model which took care of his grades.

Even then, Ben spent more time filling in the loops in some of the numbers, unable to decide if the pointy part of a 4 deserved to be included, or if he should leave it empty, and his mind filled with little voices crying out that they were exhausted from hiking over the mountains of 3s and 7s, only to find relief at the lakes of 6s and 8s. Then, they moved onto division problems, and the adventurers realized that the division sign was a horrible weapon and when he filled in the numbers, they became trapped inside them, and...

"Ben Skywalker, are you paying attention?"

"...Yes?" Or he would be, if the educator was more interesting. Or if the stuff they were learning about was more interesting.

Or if he wasn't also thinking about the fact that, about a week ago, the Countess had sent a comm that she was planning on arriving today. Unless Ben had misunderstood what she meant by 'Next week' – that happened, sometimes.

Lunch rolled around and Ben found himself at the table with his parents, his mother taking the moment to confer with the educator about how well Ben was proceeding with his multiplication tables, and why was he doing fine with those, but not able to divide, and Ben, what were you even thinking when you told this droid you'd 'turn his insides into pudding', young man? Ben didn't think any of those really needed any explaining – multiplication tables were all just patterns, so they were easy; division was taking things apart, so it was hard; and 'I'll turn your insides into pudding' was something he'd heard on the holo last night during the animated shorts.

He just hoped that the Countess would get here, soon. It was his only hope.

~.~.~

"He's not like this with YOU – what am I doing wrong?" Aunt Mara asked, tapping her fingers as she waited for the document to load on the reader. And the thing was brand new too – she hoped it was just the file being difficult.

"If it makes you feel any better, the last night of vacation, Jacen and I had to find him in the middle of the night, and he'd had all this sugary junk food that kept him running all the way back to the hotel." Jaina answered, leaning over to note the lack of progress on the doc reader, "So, you know anything about the missions I've got coming up?"

"Only that the Council wants you on more short-term projects. Days and weeks, not months." Her aunt answered, not looking up at her. So, there was something more bothering her – Mara Jade Skywalker never avoided looking at anyone, just because she was uncomfortable with telling them something.

"What?" Jaina protested, "I can take more than that – you know I'm one of the better Jedi for stuff that takes time to get done."

Mara sighed one of her growl-sighs – her Jedi Master sighs, one that she used when she wanted to shout and snarl, but couldn't for some reason, and knew that a sigh was at least more socially appropriate than her desired response. Jaina had a feeling – and not just through the Force – that her aunt was in a mood where she probably felt capable of breathing fire, if anyone crossed her just right.

"The Council's worried about burn-out. We don't have manpower to give people enough time off to recuperate, completely…" That wasn't a jab – Jaina knew her Aunt Mara better than that – but it still stung, since Jaina was acutely aware that taking a week off to spend fooling around with her brother and cousin had really been pushing the limits of 'time off'. She really didn't have any room to complain, "…so the idea is to keep everyone revolving in different sorts of jobs to keep everyone as fresh as we can."

We? "…What'd you mean 'fresh'?"

"The Council, Jaina... The Galactic Alliance isn't providing a lot by way of resources and personnel, and in any case, there aren't enough civilians with proper training that can assist with most of the reconstruction work, so all of the Jedi we have on board are all we have to go through these projects. And, besides – there are systems upset that they don't have Jedi coming to assist them, so the idea was, if we keep rotating everyone through short-term and long-term assignments, we'll at least be able to give enough assistance to as many different conflicting interests as possible that the Order's credibility doesn't face criticism and we can still remain neutral on the surface."

…Fair enough. But it was such a political reason – which meant that Uncle Luke was probably the one who'd recognized the need and suggested the idea, at first.

"…Figures." She muttered. And when she caught her Aunt's glance – one that made Jaina always feel inexplicably like a twelve-year-old still clumsily handling a lightsaber and never living up to the expectations of someone with Mara Jade's superb mastery – she sat up straighter, "I just feel my skills would be put to better use on other assignments."

Mara sat up straighter, herself, and turned back to the forgotten doc-reader – maybe the stupid file had finished loading, maybe not, but her Aunt's cleanly manicured nails had ceased to drum.

"Well, I wanted to torture you, so when I asked your Uncle, we decided that giving you a heavier load of simpler missions was the best way to torment you." She replied, in that casual, laidback drawl that couldn't be mistaken for anything but sarcasm, "Now, start complaining – I'm not convinced you're REALLY suffering, yet."

Jaina groaned and would have swatted Aunt Mara, but she didn't dare. And she didn't have anything to do it with, anyhow. Still…

"You laugh now, Aunt Mara – you'll be the one getting the shaft when that Countess woman gets here."

Her Aunt paused, and the sudden shift in the room – as though someone had just blasted the thermostat, and turned on the V/C to full throttle, and that was NEVER a sensation you wanted to experience, concurrently, with Mara Jade Skywalker present.

"…When WHO gets here?" She asked, and Jaina had a sinking suspicion in her stomach that Ben had probably neglected to mention a few things, and if she was going to do this…

"…Wanna get some caf and I can tell you ALL about it?" Jaina asked, smiling as confidently as she could. Hopefully, she could pull that reprogramming trick and get the dispenser to add the liqueured cream to hers. She was gonna need it.

~.~.~

It was just after Ben had finished his sciences assignments that the educator was abruptly powered down and he looked up to see not just his mother or father, but BOTH of them standing in the doorway, staring at him.

"Ben Skywalker – there's someone who says that she's here to visit you and meet us." Oh. Well, it was later than he'd wanted, but at least it was before covering grammar – considering that the most recent lessons about punctuation were completely contradicting what he'd learned last year, it was rapidly becoming a tedious subject for him.

"Okay." Ben got to his feet and started to head down to the hangar, but his mother stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised, "…What?"

She looked up at his father, and they had one of those looks that made Ben always feel like they were somehow talking without using their words, despite having just spent the last eight years telling him to do precisely that if he wanted something because they couldn't read minds. And then, they had the gall to be confused when HE couldn't read THEIR minds when they wanted something, like this, because apparently, today was 'Rule-Reversal Day'.

"Who is this woman?" His mother asked. Like that – Ben didn't know for sure, not until he saw her. Though, he could guess – and did secretly hope...

"Is she wearing all black and silver and the skirt really puffy and frilly?" He asked, and while his parents were having another Look, went on, "Because that's probably the Countess."

"And who is SHE?" The question came slowly, as though emerging through a thick wall of syrupy gunk.

"She's the lady I met on Ord Mantell. She wanted to meet you guys because she wants to live on Coruscant and needs you to do... I dunno, grown-up stuff for her to live here."

Yet another look between his parents, but they followed him down to the landing hangar, where there stood a lone figure completely in black – true to form, in a dress whose skirt was the voluminous shape of a bell and decked with lace that glinted sliver when she turned and it caught the light. Her wig today was also with black hair, this pulled into a knot on the back and held in place with a long pin with a garnet on the end. When she saw Ben, the first thing she did was to raise a hand and wave, rather as though she were in a parade than greeting a friend.

"Welcome to Coruscant, Countess – I hope things go well for you here." Ben said, extending a hand to shake, with a smile. The Countess blinked for a moment, then smiled, shook her head and knelt.

"I am glad to see you again, Sieur Ben – I do apologize for this trouble I must be causing you." She said, with one of her queer smiles.

"Not at all – I am the one indebted to you. I should be thanking you for coming." Ben replied – and took a moment to feel proud that he hadn't bumbled on any of those words or the correct tone, as the Countess actually managed to look impressed – before turning around, "Milady, allow me to introduce you to my parents – Jedi Masters Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade Skywalker." The names of his mother and father felt strange in his mouth, as he so rarely spoke them.

Ben just barely noticed how intensely the Countess's gaze was fixed upon his father. It was a barely fractional change of expression – one that he wondered if he was just imagining it – but he did feel some strange stir inside the Countess, as though a beast which had been caged up in hibernation for so long was suddenly beginning to wake and claw at the bars.

"'Tis an honor to stand in the presence of the parents of a boy such as Sieur Ben. I confess, I have been anticipating this for a considerable amount of time." The Countess said, smiling. Speaking of strange smiles, Ben supposed he should have known that his mother was a master of them as much as the Countess – it was with a similar expression to the Countess' Ben's mother extended her hand, but Ben had a much more pressing question before Her Excellency could return the gesture.

"Where's Jacci? Didn't she come with you?" He asked, looking around the Countess' voluminous skirt as though thinking that Jacci might have been hiding behind it.

And then, the Countess was looking at him, with another one of those peculiarly thin-lipped smiles.

"No, Sieur Ben – you see, when Jacci cajoled me into saying we would make Coruscant our next destination, she did so whilst neglecting to mention that she was inhibited from participation in events such as these as a penalty." Her eyes sharpened, again – that glint entering them and changing their hue from a mere gray to something brighter, like silver – "Which leads me to question – why are YOU here, Sieur Ben?"

Ben blinked, nonplussed for a moment, before the Countess turned to his parents, only for him to notice they were also looking his way.

"Why would your young one be grounded, Excellency?" Mom asked, her eyes still fixed on Ben as though she somehow expected him to answer.

"There was a misadventure during Carnival – one which nearly had those of us with sense worried for the safety of our little ones. One such soul even believed they had been abducted, as is not unheard of for children their age – surely, you have heard the details of this experience, by now?" The Countess extrapolated.

His mother smirked. Ben's eyes flitted to his father, only to meet with a blank look that could only possibly be interpreted as 'Look at your mother, not me'.

"Well, Ben?" Mom prompted, "...Do you have something you want to tell us about this?"

Ben blinked, then tried to think of what they were waiting to hear. Or, more importantly, what they HADN'T heard – usually, grown-ups didn't like being told things they'd already heard about when they got like this.

"...I thought Jacen and Jaina would've told you." He finally managed. The smile on his mother's face didn't change.

"They did." Mom said, simply, "We want to know if you have anything to add to what they told us."

...Well, how was he supposed to know, if he didn't know what Jaina had told them? For all he knew, she'd told them that a fifty-foot tall purple Platypus-Bear had been involved. So, there was really only one logical answer to this...

"...What did they tell you?"

His father arched an eyebrow in his direction – because of course he did, that was pretty much the extent of the expressions his father HAD.

"They told us what happened." Ugh – grown-ups were so ANNOYING, sometimes. Ben rolled his eyes, "Don't give us that, Ben."

"Then why do you want me to tell you what happened, if you ALREADY KNOW?"

All the while, the Countess had been standing off to the side, watching, waiting, and Ben had mostly forgot that she was there until she cleared her throat, just a little.

"Sieur Ben… I believe they want to know if YOUR version of events is the same as what they were told by your cousins – and to know THAT, if they were to tell you what they'd already heard, you might lie and change your story to match."

Oh. That… made a lot more sense, actually. So, Ben told them about everything - starting with their trips around the Carnival stalls, what they'd talked about, being cornered by several big adults and Ben remembering the countless lessons about 'If a stranger approaches you, don't tell them where you live and don't take candy from them', and ending with Jacen and Jaina, and the Countess, coming by and retrieving them and everything was obviously fine, since he was here now, right?

Then, he saw his mother and father share a glance.

"…So, Countess, how was Jacci grounded if YOU didn't know about it?" Ben asked, while his parents apparently communicated with their faces, or whatever it was they did. The Countess' face remained frozen in that cryptic smile, even as Ben heard his mother speak up again.

"Ben, that's rude – you know better." What? How was that RUDE? "And on the subject, do you think YOU should be grounded, young man?" Ben looked from his mother to his father. There was that raised-eyebrows look again. And then, there was a feeling – the same sensation that made Ben squirm when he could tell someone was looking at him - like his father expected Ben to know what he wanted Ben to answer, just from that look, but how could Ben do THAT when that's all Dad EVER looked like?

Well… okay, Ben could guess he knew HOW his parents expected him to tell… but he couldn't.

"…No?" He guessed. He couldn't even tell why JACCI had been grounded, so why should he?

"Go to your room." His mother pointed through the door. His father said nothing – like he had through this whole argument. Like he ALWAYS did.

What? "WHAT?"

"Now."

So, now, Ben wasn't going to get to see Jacci again, and now, he couldn't even talk to the Countess. He stomped off, thinking that it wasn't like he'd been THAT excited, anyway – if he thought it hard enough, then maybe he'd believe it, and then, MAYBE, his parents would hear it. Just like they heard everything else.

~.~.~

"Thanks for that." Mara started, not caring that the CMC was supposedly their guest – it was bad enough that Ben hadn't told them until the last minute, but now realizing that Jaina had apparently neglected to mention this, and meeting this woman was putting Mara significantly on edge. And, in minutes of being here, she'd undermined how they wanted to discipline their own son.

And now, she was smiling at them – it was freakish, really.

"Not at all." The CMC replied, brightly, "I saw how the conversation was going and – forgive me for my assumption – it had occurred to me that this kind of trouble is not unusual. He is a special child, is he not?"

Mara didn't glance in Luke's direction, even as she could tell that he was shooting her a look – she was a little preoccupied with the CMC, and especially how she chose her words. Ben was a Jedi child by birth, and, more importantly, he was THEIR child. But, something told her, that wasn't the kind of 'special' this woman in black and silver was referring to.

"…Pardon?" She managed – it was better than outright asking 'Did you seriously just call my son retarded to my FACE?'

Either Mara was getting significantly better at sublimating her anger, or the CMC was completely oblivious – and from the look Luke was giving her, Mara could tell she hadn't kept her tone neutral.

"More than once, I notice, some of his mannerisms are not unlike another young person of my acquaintance – and that situation required far less subtlety and far more blunt requests to achieve the same result. If I am being to frank or intrusive, I do beg your pardon – 'tis mere concern for a new friend, that I hope will not be lost over time."

It was a little intrusive, but for a different reason, Mara thought. Something just felt wrong to her about a strange woman like this taking such interest in her son.

There was the littlest brush from Luke – and Mara knew it was Luke, because only HE felt like this, the rumble like an engine, but so even and warm that it soothed rather than bruised, and after Mara blinked and took a deep breath, the world looked clearer and brighter after feeling him – and Mara felt the spot of tension between her shoulders loosen, even if that discomfort and unease didn't go with it.

"Well, yeah. We do think of Ben as special, since he's our ONLY child." Oh, farmboy – Mara didn't know if she wanted to hit him or kiss him for his wonderful, wonderful ability to naïvely misinterpret anything. Or if this was Luke deliberately missing the point, to draw out the real purpose of the CMC's statement – that was the part Mara really wanted to smack him for, if only because it infuriated her that she couldn't tell the two purposes apart.

Tricky, farmboy.

"I realized." The CMC said, agreeably, "Sieur Ben made no short mention of having no siblings – but I suppose that must be a boon when he has friends over, is that not so?"

Again, Mara felt a prickle – not so much because she had the sense that the statement had been keenly honed to the fact that Ben NEVER had friends over, but because she couldn't tell how much of it was made in innocence and how much was a deliberate blow. And, from what she could tell, Luke was more or less reacting exactly the same way – with maybe a little more guilt than she, over the idea that their son just didn't have friends.

"Well, that's beside the point." Mara waved it off, "In any case, we welcome you to Coruscant, and to the Temple and hope that everything goes well for you while surface-bound."

"Thank you for your hospitality, Master Skywalker – and especially to the both of you, for taking this time out of what I am sure must be very busy schedules. Pray, I am not imposing too much, am I?" The CMC asked, smiling and blinking in a manner as though she expected to hear just that. So, really, Mara couldn't help but be amused when both she and Luke said, at the exact same moment...

"No." Luke.

"Yes." Herself. She wasn't even sorry when Luke shot her a look that said 'Did you REALLY have to be honest NOW?' Even the Countess' expression was worth the discrepancy, as she was obviously glancing between them, wondering whose word to take at face value.

Well, it did raise Mara's esteem for her – just a little – that she did appear to be truly consternated over it. And it was a little funny to see someone who had obviously put a great deal of effort into looking composed and dignified look so distressed.

"No offense, Your Excellency, but we both did have, as you said, very busy schedules – and they ARE dealing with matters related to the reconstruction efforts, so our participation is really not an optional feature." And there, she could feel Luke nearly ready to bury his face in his hands out of sheer embarrassment. Well, she'd never been one for tact or those pesky evasions of the truth called 'Manners'. Nothing but trouble, those – bluntness was always much simpler and did away with future complications.

"...Whose results do hold the lives of many civilians in the balance." Luke did finally add, agreeing as gracefully as possible, "If these were less important, we might be able to work around them, but as it is..."

For what it was worth, the CMC adapted well.

"Yes – I had heard, there was apparently a war in the last decade or so?" Where had this woman COME from that she had completely missed the galactic widespread war with the Yuzuhan Vong? Had she been living underground that whole time – except THAT kind of a hiding place would have still had the chance of being discovered, when the planets had been invaded and shaped with Vong flora and fauna.

"Apparently." Mara agreed, and again ignored the little jab Luke sent her – the ones he usually allowed to slip through their bond when he thought she was laying a little too much irony into her words.

"Yes, I had come to the realization that there was some cause for rush and urgency amongst most proceedings, when I first touched down... Had I realized that Sieur Ben's parents were so intimately connected to these purposes, I would have found a way to oblige you YOUR time and convenience, but as the two young people whom are not present today are ultimately the cause of this meeting – I confess – I saw no harm in making the introductions as timely as possible. After all, what parent would not wish to know those whom their child associates with, protecting him from the harm's way of complete strangers? For all you could know, I might be planning on brainwashing him into eternal servitude for some nefarious purpose of mine – so, I do apologize, but surely you see no harm in my insistence that we become acquainted, first."

And with that long-winded and somewhat effusive ramble, the lady fell silent and apparently waited for some response.

"...Yes... we might understand, if Ben had told us sooner than just before you arrived..." Luke said, slowly, making the Countess' eyebrows climb her forehead.

"...Did he, now?" She sounded perplexed, as though the concept of an eight-year-old boy not being fully honest with his parents was inconceivable to her.

"The only reason we knew about what had happened during Carnival was because Jaina told us the story – as well as the promise he made to you. So, if you don't mind, you understand us being a little leery about someone who cajoles this sort of thing out of a child without consulting the parents." Mara added, feeling inexplicably like she was going toe-to-toe with this woman in something as deadly as a lightsaber duel.

The CMC blinked, eyes doe-like for how large and round she seemed to make them.

"And of someone whom a CHILD can cajole such requests out of? I do beg your forgiveness, but my only reasoning was due to how my own Little Stranger had taken such a fancy to your boy, otherwise, this whole affair might never have come to fruition." And, while Mara was on the subject, the way this woman dodged any kind of blame by insisting on her little one's role in all this. Also – who called their child a 'Stranger'?

"I see. I don't suppose there is a 'Little Stranger' you might produce for inspection?" Mara pressed, even as Luke hung back, likely trying to maintain a semblance of composure while his wife and his guest had it out. The CMC frowned, as though wondering where Mara could have got such a notion.

"No – I said before, she is confined to the house for her poor judgement during those events." She sounded positively perplexed. Mara frowned right back, wondering how anyone could be as thick as this woman.

"And is there any way we might be able to meet her soon?" Luke finally stepped in. And, in all fairness, Mara supposed the moment she turned the questioning onto a (possibly non-existent?) child that had been too far.

The CMC turned her gaze levelly to Luke and – was it just Mara's imagination, or a trick of the light – her expression seemed to soften by just a degree. Mara couldn't even sense through the Force if there was an honest change or if there was any deception...

And that's when it hit her – she couldn't sense this woman AT ALL. Not just her senses being off – it was almost like talking to a walking doll, there was nothing about her.

That did suddenly explain why Jaina had been so reluctant to talk about her, in retrospect.

"Well, since the fault seems to be my own in this instance – if it would be agreeable to the two of you – perhaps at a time which is convenient to you, if you would care to pay us a call? I am sure that would be acceptable enough, as you could meet a few other members of my Household, whose acquaintance would certainly be inevitable if there is to be any association between us, or at least the children..."

Other members? How many people would they be dealing with, precisely? And were they talking servants and retinue – since she was (maybe?) nobility – or were there more relatives and extended friends in question, too?

"And you'll contact us, instead of asking Ben to tell us, this time?" Luke asked, and the tone he used assured Mara that he hadn't thought Mara's concerns were out of line – just her belligerence.

Oh well – he wouldn't be her farmboy if he thought direct, aggressive tones were appropriate for any kind of confrontation.

The CMC smiled, again, and Mara felt a chill that she couldn't tell if it was a smile to express her emotions, or a smile to conceal them.

"I would have THIS time, had the means been available to me." She admitted, sounding a little sheepish for some reason. Mara returned the smile as pleasantly as possible to, hopefully, disguise some of the bite in her next words.

"If only we had a device that allowed us communicate." She agreed, wondering how long it would take for the CMC to recognize that Mara was, in fact, referring to a device specifically named for its purpose – it was called 'the comm' for a reason.

Again, the woman in black responded as blissfully unaware of the jibe at her expense as ever.

"Oh, I have no doubt there is such a device – and, of course, I am certain you have one in your possession – but when there are no proper channels to convey my purpose and identity, I highly doubt such persons as yourselves would have accepted such a communication. Even before I knew what important persons you and Master Skywalker were on this world, I had the distinct impression that my attempts to reach out as 'someone your son met on holiday' would be met with suspicion and disdain."

Well... let it never be said that Mara Jade Skywalker could be right about EVERYTHING... she could even feel Luke sending a feeling, as though he were thinking 'She's right and you know it' – she did rather have the tendency to hang up on anyone whose voice she didn't recognize and couldn't give an adequate reason why she ought to know them.

"You won't be. Not this time." Luke assured her, calmly, and Mara had the distinct impression that the CMC's smile changed – again, by a fraction of degree, but still... – to something that might have been truly genuine, but then the moment passed and with some punctual exchanges, she took her leave and Mara and Luke had just a moment to look between themselves and ponder what would come next.

Then, Mara came to a conclusion:

"That little boy is in BIG trouble."

~.~.~

"Mom? Dad?" Jaina called, entering into the apartment she'd learned was the new Residence de Solo – as it were. The entrance was spacious enough, but felt cramped compared to the open, un-walled rooms of the Jedi Temple that she'd grown so used to.

"Who's there?" Her mother's voice came through the walls, and when Jaina reached out, she could tell that her mother was in the room just down the hall, around a corner – probably a bedroom. And of course, her mother couldn't just tell who it was. Like Jaina's voice and her presence weren't enough, but, oh wait – of course her mother couldn't tell from the Force alone, because she wasn't actually a Jedi, with the sense to tell… Not that Jaina cared, or anything.

"It's an intruder – I'm here to steal all your shit." She called back, stepping around a set of crates that, at first glance, looked like clothes and shoes. Each one was packed carefully, almost more boxes than there were things to go into them.

Then, her mother poked her head out of the doorway, followed closely by a different box – this one so overflowing that it probably wasn't clothes that her mother was planning on keeping.

"Jaina!" Her mother set the box down and came over to give Jaina an awkward hug – mostly because it involved leaning over a piece of furniture that was covered with a sheet. Jaina returned the embrace as best she could, too uncomfortable with squeezing her mother when she felt a pair of shoulder blades against her arms, "Mm… sorry it's such a wreck – we're getting ready to put this in storage. So, how ARE you?"

Jaina couldn't meet her mother's gaze, instead looking at all the crates. Storage? Were they planning on putting ANYTHING in these new digs?

"Okay. Gonna be getting more short missions – no long term stuff, so I thought I should let you know, if I'm going to be by more often…" She probably wouldn't, but she also knew that acting like she planned on visiting her parents more often would make her mother less likely to complain 'It's been too long' every time she saw her.

And then her mother let out a noise.

"Oh…" Jaina shot her mother a look – she was smiling in that awkward way she did when she was uncomfortable.

"…Mom?" She pressed.

"…Your father and I also have some work to do." Her mother gestured to the boxes, "We're bowing out of the lease, because we're not going to be here for at least another few months."

Oh. That explained the storage part. Jaina didn't comment – because, really, it wasn't like she HAD been planning to come by and visit more often, and it wasn't like she missed her family – and pawed through the box of stuff that her mother had just set down.

"Did you need help moving any of this?" She asked, wondering what her mother was planning for this, obviously not well packed, supply.

"That'd be great. You don't need to worry about those – I'm getting rid of them." She gestured to the clothes Jaina was looking at – mostly old, ugly dresses that Jaina remembered her mother wearing when she was much younger. She'd hated them. Except…

"Wait, you're not throwing out the boots, are you?" There they were – the ones that, honestly, Jaina remembered her mother wearing to EVERYTHING. Sitting at the table on the Falcon, working on documents for the Senate; trips to the Jedi Praxeum to visit her and Jacen; formal gatherings with fancy dress codes that called for skirts to obscure even the ground around her feet… And her mother ALWAYS wore these white boots with the black treads. Sure, they'd seen better days, and Jaina could tell that if she took them, she'd also need to see a cobbler to repair the heel – the one her mother had wrecked at some point during the many mishaps of her childhood – and her feet and knees and lower back would be sore for a few days as she adjusted but... but these were her mother's boots. And now, that mother was giving her a look – a Princess Leia Organa Solo, head of the Republic Look.

"I don't wear them anymore."

So, they're still perfectly good, and you can't throw them OUT. "I'll wear them!" Jaina protested, picking them out of the box and peeling off her own boots to demonstrate – sure, her mother was a size or two bigger than her, but her feet felt perfectly at home in them. And now, her mother was giving her another one of her looks – a Mom Look – and Jaina was fully aware that she looked like a kid trying on her mother's outfits, all over again, "…Shut up."

And then the smile broke.

"Alright – you can have them." As though she had been waiting for Jaina to come by and take them, all along. Whatever.

"Huzzah! Mom boots!" Jaina cheered, zipping the sides up and grabbing one of the more carefully prepared boxes to cart down to the Falcon.

So, really, she was not amused when Dad caught sight of the boots and started to snicker.

"I heard y'all had fun on yer trip." Dad called, already on the floor with the compartments opened up and a number of supplies that Jaina pretended she didn't see going into them – it WAS Dad, after all, and asking him to abide by trade laws was like asking fire to be wet.

"It was a good week to recharge, I'll say that." Jaina admitted, also ignoring the bemused snicker she heard from her mother – so what if she sounded too much like her Dad? "...Who'd'ya hear it from, anyhow?"

Dad paused with what he was doing, before shrugging.

"Y'know... just heard." It almost fooled Jaina, but for two things – one, she was a Jedi, and even if she weren't in that great of shape or tired or not really trying too hard to tell, she could sense his discomfort. And two, she was his goddamned daughter.

Bullshit. "Was Jacen here?"

Dad's mouth thinned the way it always did when he didn't want to talk about it – something Jaina remembered seeing a lot of whenever he and her mother had a fight. Now that she thought it over, she hadn't heard one of those in a long time. That was probably a good thing...

On the other hand, she hadn't seen her folks for longer than a few minute visits when she was on planet between assignments. Not for a while, anyway...

She patted the floor of the Falcon's bay.

"How's our baby doing?"

Her Dad's expression shifted back to a more lighthearted tone, even though Jaina saw the uneven creases around his eyes and on his forehead still furrowed in.

"Ah, 'bout the usual. She's holdin' together fine..." And then, with a grunt, Dad hauled himself out of the compartment and kicked the covering back over it, "Could use a hand, what who knows how to keep the condensers steady."

"Can't get Mom to help you with that?" Jaina asked, dubiously, and hoping that her mother wasn't within earshot of either of them. So, really, she couldn't be blamed too much for being happy when Dad put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close enough to whisper,

"I love yer Ma an' everythin', but she still needs me to tell the difference 'tween a hydraulic tube, an' a spray can of windshield cleaner." Now, this, Jaina believed – while she'd learned how to tell the two apart by TOUCH as soon as she'd learned how to walk, she was also fairly confident that her mother had a lot to learn before she could do the same kind of repair work that Jaina and her Dad could do with their eyes closed. But Jaina knew better than to comment on that and so, mostly just giggled from the familiar tickle of Dad's gravelly voice in her ear. And, really, Jaina wasn't going to say she hadn't wanted to be back in the engine room – she really had missed being under the radiator, prizing apart wires and tubes and carefully examining which parts needed replacement and which needed to be tightened, and, really, she missed the familiarity. The ships she had been spending her time on over the last few months were nice, and she'd gotten used to them...

But it just wasn't the same as the Falcon – the ship that really felt like coming home. Maybe it was the rattling or whistling of various pieces as they knocked against each other, or maybe it was the fact that, unlike all of her new ships, she hadn't needed to get used to the Falcon. It had always been there, like a part of her. Or maybe – this was the crazy part of her, admittedly – maybe it was just that she did better with old ships, which always needed fixing, adjusting, watching, and listening. Because, whatever she learned from her new, slick, top-of-the-line ships, they never seemed to talk to her the way the Falcon had.

'Course, that might've been Dad's careful tutelage combined with the hocus-pocus she'd learned from Uncle Luke. Jaina'd never been quite able to figure that out.

So, she slid under the floor with her Dad, four hands working to stabilize the compressors, tighten the widgets, and keep a few dozen other bits and bobs from getting tangled up in the mess as they worked. Maybe this was another part of it, too – Dad wasn't a Jedi, not even close. But, somehow, he knew where she was gonna move next, what she was gonna do – stuff that Jaina had never even been able to do with her mother, y'know, the ACTUAL Force-sensitive parent?

"What happened to helping me with the boxes?" Of course, both Jaina and her Dad jumped and bumped their heads as they slid out from under the mechanics to see an amused, if annoyed, Leia Solo, watching the both of them like she'd just caught a pair of her children sneaking into the pantry after bedtime. Jaina pushed herself to her feet and pretended that she needed to dust herself off, even as Dad sat on the floor, not in the least bit ashamed for getting caught.

"Needed a hand with something, and Jaina was there." He said, easily enough.

"I'm sure." Her mother sighed – a sigh that only her mother let out, all breath and sound – before she sat down on the galley bench, "Well, I doubt there's much more I can get done today, anyhow – probably time for supper."

"Right. I'll see Jaina out – you gotta scoot, issat right?" Dad turned to Jaina and tossed her a rag for her hands. And, Jaina had to admit, if she was going to get sent out on a mission soon, she did want to get all her on-planet business done as soon as possible.

Halfway down to her speeder, Jaina spoke up – mostly to break the silence between her and her Dad. It had never felt right, any moment with her Dad that didn't have SOME kind of noise. In the day or in the engine rooms, there was always some kind of sound that appropriately reflected their bond – but watching the sun set and the quiet that the vivid reds and golds and indigos the sky seemed to bring with it... that always unsettled her.

"I told you 'bout the new friend Ben made on vacation, right?" She asked.

Her Dad frowned.

"Don't think ya did..." He murmured.

"...Yeah – there's this little girl he bumped into, 'bout his age, an' we were staying in the same hotel as her big sister. Crazy lady, calls herself the CMC, some sorta Countess." Jaina left out how they'd been in the same room, and mostly because she and Jacen hadn't made proper reservations.

Dad made a noise that told Jaina he was listening, but didn't know what to say. Those were rare, but still enough that it made Jaina worried she'd done something wrong – some stupid fear she should've out-grown with her old size 16 shoes, but it still hovered in her chest, all the same.

"...So, she showed up today – threw Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara for a loop. Might be worth keeping an eye on."

When Jaina looked back over to her Dad, she noticed that crease had appeared back over his eyebrows, which might have been a concern to what she was saying, or could have easily been Dad's mind wandering to something troubling. It would've been easy to probe him to find out, but she really didn't want to – not to her Dad, not over something like this.

"Well, see ya, kiddo." Her Dad raised an arm and gave her a big, lopsided, crushing bear hug. Jaina turned fully and wrapped both her arms around his chest in a more proper embrace, even delighting in the roaring groan he let out as she attempted to squeeze as much air out of him as possible. He started patting her shoulder with increasing weight until they both finally couldn't keep it up, and Jaina broke her grip with a gasp for air.

With a final clap to her shoulder, Jaina heard her Dad chuckling.

"What?" She asked, probably sounding more offended than she meant. Dad gave her that crooked smile that, from her years of experience, meant he was REALLY embarrassed about something.

"...Just... you look SO much like yer Ma in those boots." Jaina contemplated making a smartass remark about her and her mother's faces being UP HERE, not on her boots, but the grin faded as Dad kept his hand on her shoulder, "...She prob'ly didn't mention nothing, but she's been upset since Jacen showed up an' didn't even really say 'Hi' – just came to grab something, then took off again."

So Jacen HAD been here. Jaina ignored the rolling in her stomach at the thought that she hadn't even known where Jacen had been, nor where he'd gone. And, of course her mother didn't say anything or let it show.

Mom and her secrets. "Okay..."

"She wouldn't want me to say, but I think she's been feelin' lonely..." Dad gave her a look – one that was as laden with meaning as her mother's ever could be, but far less subtle, a 'You've got my back, right?' look – and continued, "Think she misses you two."

It was really taking a lot of work for Jaina to not feel guilty about that. Dad didn't do guilt-trips – he said 'This is what I want and this is why' – but she had been kind of trying to stay away from her parents for a while. Stop being the 'kid', start being the Jedi. Start being grown, like you want me to be and not always go running and crying back to Mommy and Daddy when something goes wrong.

"It'd mean a lot to her if you could stop by, little more." And when Jaina didn't say anything – because, really, she'd just stopped by in order to tell her mother that she might be around, but mostly as cover for the fact that she wasn't planning on it... "Y'know, when you can."

Jaina smiled. It was an old, familiar, comfortable smile, if only because she'd worn it so much over the last ten years.

"I'll check my timetables." And Dad smiled back – so, he probably understood. Probably. A final clap on the shoulder and he waved her into her waiting speeder.

"Don't be a stranger."

Not like some other people in our family.

"Love you, Dad." Jaina called to her Dad's retreating back as he went back up the stairs to the Falcon's hangar.

"Love you too, sweetie." He called back.

Jaina waited until she'd got back to the Temple and had her speeder parked to smash her fists on the steering panel.

~.~.~

Jacci thought Coruscant, so far, was a very nice city. She asked if her Big Stranger agreed, sitting on her bed as she unpacked for the closet. This time, it was all skirts and dresses, heavy fabrics and tight waists – the last planet, she'd worn suits and simple sets, and any skirts she wore had had bright layers of red or blue under the black tops. Jacci missed those – Big Stranger was no fun when she put on all black, or those silver pieces.

"'Tis a lovely city." She said, smiling in that Not-Smile way. Jacci didn't mention it – if Big Stranger was already putting on the Not-Smile, then things were already starting off badly. So, when Jacci asked how long they would be staying, THIS time, she wasn't surprised when the answer was, "Oh, you must not worry about that – the time will come when it comes."

So, really, Jacci should ask Uncle Gornash, she supposed.

"What story do you want to hear, tonight, my Little Stranger?" Big Stranger finally asked, unpacking another one of her wigs – the one from Auntie Haid's hair. Not that Jacci minded that one – just it looked strange on Big Stranger. Jacci considered, then asked if she could hear about 'The Wicked King and the Young Prince' – her favorite – and wasn't surprised when her Big Stranger frowned, "Not tonight, dear heart."

She always said that.

"How do you know that you like that story?" Big Stanger asked, and obviously it was because she liked to hear it the most, "Then, if you have heard it before, that obviously means I have not 'always' said 'Not tonight'. So – not tonight."

Well, that was unfair. But Jacci knew not to say that.

"What other story would you like to hear?" So, Jacci thought it over and figured, if Big Stranger had already shot down one story, she probably wouldn't say no to whatever else Jacci wanted to hear, so finally, she decided on 'The Pirate, the Princess, and the Farmboy'. That one was her second favorite.

And her third. Big Stranger sighed.

"Oh, alright." She came over and sat next to Jacci, propped up on the pillows and pulling the comforter over her feet. In the morning, Jacci knew she'd wake up in her own room, in her own bed, but for now, she listened as Big Stranger started to tell the story. And it started, as all her stories did, with, "Once upon a time..."

~.~.~

"Master Skywalker..."

"Heard 'bout the unexpected visitor we had."

"Oh, so the Grand Master makes time for someone who shows up without notice, but cannot make his previously arranged appointments? Nice to see that I'm welcome."

Luke closed his eyes and counted to ten. It was so deceptively simple. Yet, it worked very well in helping him keep his temper and patience. Patience that he sorely needed when faced with Kyp Durron and Kenth Hamner, AND a tired, impatient Cal Omas.

At least Kyp was easily on his side. But it was frustrating that, two seconds in the room, there were sides at all.

"Sir Chief of State – with all due respect – if there had been an emergency, which required the Grand Master's presence, I'm sure you would have been much more lenient." Kenth pointed out.

"Happy, even, that someone in the room has the proper priorities." Kyp drove the point further home. Luke felt a little relieved that at least he could sense the tensions in the room were stacked in such a way that the conversation would be kept civil.

Cal fixed his eyes on Kyp. They were slightly bloodshot. He must have been just as tired as Luke.

"Master Durron... any other person might have taken offense to what sounded like you were insinuating that my priorities are skewed." He said, levelly. It wasn't really the same as bait. Still, Kyp did what Luke had known Kyp would do.

"I wasn't insinuating – I was outright insulting you because you are making a bigger problem out of a minor detail, for which Master Skywalker had no control over." Luke closed his eyes again.

One... Two... Three... Four... Five... Six... Seven... Eight... Nine... Ten...

"I apologize for the delay… the issue was resolved as quickly as possible, so we can now get to business here."

Cal turned his gaze in Luke's direction. Luke could count the lines in his furrowed forehead, and the particular way his mouth was tightening. It looked so out of place on the same face he'd seen win the election years before. Especially since, so often, Cal's face kept an easy-going smile for the cams and the public.

"Are you and all your people well and safe, Cal?" Luke asked before Cal could say anything that might make the situation worse. He saw Kenth cringe at the informality, but whatever. Luke had treated the Cal Omas he'd first met and seen through the war the same as he would have any of his closest, most trusted peers and pupils. He wasn't going to start treating him any differently now.

And if they started the discussion off on titles or formalities… that would just make everyone tense and anxious and irritable.

"…I'm well, thank you – my people are actually having some difficulties that are the reason I'm here to speak to you about." Probably a sign that this meeting would be uncomfortable, but at least go smoothly.

"Difficulties? I'll do what I can to help." They weren't opponents. They were working together. He just hoped he could keep that thought in everyone else's minds. No sides. Just people.

"Especially in different districts – there have been reports of disciplinary issues, inconsistent performances, overzealous use of limited resources in an unproductive and impractical manner, and irresponsible dereliction of duties…"

Why was Cal talking like that? As far as Luke could tell, that meant he was upset about what was going on, but also wanted to skirt around the issue. Which probably meant that this was very bad news.

"…Are you saying that the Jedi we've assigned as aid for various projects are failing in what they've assigned to do?" Kenth asked, the smooth expanse of his forehead etched with lines as his eyebrows raised. Cal turned to him, and Luke automatically felt a shift in the tone between them. Well, it made sense, since Kenth had been the negotiator between the New Republic and the Order during the war. Of course he would be on better terms with politicians.

But it was still not good that Cal immediately warmed to that, as though the other two Jedi in the room were his enemies...

"The majority of our troubles is the high rates of delinquency from promised assistance." He clarified.

"Delinquency as in the Jedi expected go missing before they reach their assignment, disappear at some point mid-way through, or simply stop coming without explanation, but you still know where they are?" Luke clarified. He hadn't felt any disturbances in the Force, at least not that would indicate disappearing Jedi. That said, maybe whatever was going on was a greater problem that he simply hadn't felt coming up.

Cal returned his steady look, the tension creeping back into his posture. Whatever the answer, Luke guessed it was really bothering him, more than the usual stress and pressure would. He felt it build with every moment Cal's silence stretched.

"Chief Omas, if you're not going to cooperate with us, why should we bother staying for this meeting?" Kyp finally spoke up, and Luke had to remind himself that he'd deliberately wanted Kyp on the Council BECAUSE he would take a different approach, and possibly antagonize people, when the status quo became unacceptable, "If you were so upset about Master Skywalker being detained from arriving on time, then maybe you should make this meeting shorter by getting to your point, not wasting time, and telling us what you need."

Cal and Kenth both went so silent, Luke could swear he heard their heartbeats from where he was standing. This was never a good sign.

"All of the information I have neglects to mention the causes – only that there is a high delinquency rate, Master Durron. So, I have no..." Although, maybe it was useful at the moment. Luke could feel the stress on Cal increasing tenfold, feel his heart speed up. All sure signs of someone lying. And if Luke could tell, then...

"Is there a danger to any Jedi we send to aid reconstruction efforts or not?" Kyp asked, again, "You tell us that there are a 'number'–" Kyp tapped his finger and thumb, reminding Luke that Cal hadn't even given them any solid numbers, yet, "–of delinquent Jedi in peacekeeping and-or rebuilding designations, but can't tell us if their whereabouts CAN be confirmed at all? If there's a risk of our undertrained Knights and Apprentices just disappearing, we won't send any more out – you can fill the needs your damn self."

Cal's face went pink. Then, it went very quickly a shade of white. At the same moment, Luke could feel a shift in the Force, like all of the air was being compressed into the meter of space where he was standing, and all of the pressure had one source. Luke reached into the Force, himself, and pulled back on Kyp's presence, immediately breaking his concentration.

This is NOT the right way to handle this. He hoped at least the sensation of his disapproval came through.

Cal was still sweating as Kyp relaxed. He might have been trying to spook Cal into remembering what a Jedi could do, or maybe he was trying to just get the information straight from his mind. Anyway, Cal regained his composure and at least maintained dignity by remaining upright, even when Kenth offered a seat.

"...There are some different circumstances in each case – I'll have the files transferred to you, and leave it to your best judgement if there is a danger." He finally managed.

Luke hoped his smile looked at least a little genuine. The moment Kyp had brought up the possibility that any of his students were going missing or somehow in danger, the old panic and fear had risen uncomfortably in his chest.

"Thank you, Cal. And even if we do determine there's a risk to anyone, we'll still try to keep possibilities open so you can have the support of the Jedi Order if you need it."

And that's how Cal Omas left. So, Luke just had to deal with Kenth and Kyp. Neither of them looked too happy, either with the situation or with each other.

One of the marks of a good compromise is that nobody is happy with it. Luke reminded himself that everyone being happy wasn't the point. Not now. Now, they had to work to make things stable, and later down the line, THEN everyone could be happy.

Even he didn't like the way things had to be. But that wasn't the point, either.

"I'm glad to see that we all have a code to uphold in the Jedi Order, still." Kenth said, giving Kyp a pointed glance out of the corner of his eye. He probably thought he was being subtle. Luke hated subtleties. They always felt like being just shy of outright lies and dishonesty. And, in this case, it was how people were rude and unkind to each other without getting caught.

Oh well. He guessed that it was a sign that Mara was a good teacher that he'd learned very well how to spot subtlety and quash it when it went too far.

"Kenth. Is this how the Jedi solve their problems?" He asked. That stopped Kenth from glowering, but that wasn't the real problem, ultimately.

"And Kyp. Using force like that is only going to make things harder for everyone in the long run."

Kyp blinked, and didn't seem as though he heard or cared.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Master Skywalker..." Oh great, "But I did what I felt was necessary."

"It was completely UN-necessary, antagonizing the Galactic Alliance over some rumors." Kenth snapped, even as Luke closed his eyes to keep calm.

Seriously. He didn't have this much trouble with Ben, and he was still a kid. Luke wondered if he needed to start talking to his old apprentices like kids, if they were going to act it.

"I didn't antagonize the Galactic Alliance, Master Hamner – I antagonized the Chief of State, and because there's a possibility that young Jedi are in danger. I only did what was necessary."

"You just made it harder for everyone else who has to respond to this problem you created." Kenth responded. Meaning that Kenth thought HE'D be the one responding to this problem.

"I'm sorry if you think I created a problem. Now, I have other matters to address, and I'm not going to waste more time in petty squabbling." Luke wouldn't say Kyp stormed out, but the conversation ended with Kenth very obviously not in any mood to solve the problem, and Luke needing both of them back and stuck with choosing between staying and trying to work with Kenth... or chasing after Kyp.

So. About the usual.

No surprise, but he went after Kyp. He had a better chance with talking to him, and Kyp was probably more likely to respond without Kenth present. So, doing his best to not act like he was chasing Kyp, Luke followed him down the corridor, wondering what was so important that he was willing to blow off someone like Cal Omas.

Luke got his answer when he spotted Kyp snappishly pointing a few Knights and their Apprentices down to the med ward. It just wasn't like him. And it didn't help when he saw Kyp notice Luke and hold a challenging gaze for a few minutes.

"…Kyp, what's wrong?" Luke finally asked. In response, he saw Kyp pull out a little bottle and quickly, discretely, slip a tiny pellet into the corner of his mouth.

"…Nothing – just a headache." Luke glanced around, just to be sure nobody had seen that. Kyp didn't like the others knowing when he was hurting.

"You haven't been getting a lot of those, have you?" And he hated being talked to like this. So much, in fact, that Luke knew exactly what terms Kyp used to describe them.

You're not weak, and I'm not coddling you. Being able to communicate telepathically wasn't a skill he had, but he wished it was. Even how Luke could give Mara a look and know what she was thinking was more… something else.

"Only a few. I just haven't been keeping hydrated properly." Luke knew Kyp. He knew that Kyp could keep calm, even when staring a star destroyer in the face. He knew that Kyp could walk into certain death without flinching.

He also knew that Kyp could use his powers to regulate his heartbeat at will and forcibly calm his own sense in the Force, so nobody could tell when he was lying like a floor tile. Nobody, but someone who knew Kyp very well.

"Kyp." Luke mostly just said it to make Kyp turn and look at him. He raised an eyebrow, "Please see Cighal."

Kyp didn't frown, but Luke also knew that was not a sign that he agreed. If anything, that was how Kyp shut out anyone he didn't want in the conversation.

"I'm fine." And he walked away.

~.~.~

"You sure you're okay to get home?" Master Horn – no, wait, Corran, they were off-duty – asked, setting down his glass. Jaina drained hers and pushed it back across the counter for the serving droid to refill.

"Staying at the Temple tonight. I'm getting a new assignment tomorrow." She answered, leaning back and stretching. Corran's forehead did the wrinkly thing her Dad's did when he was thinking and none too pleased about it.

"Ah." Their refills arrived, "...Know roughly about what it is?" He asked.

"Nope." Jaina said, swigging the contents of her glass and relishing the fact that it still kinda burned as it went over the back of her tongue.

"...Okay... so, you sure it's a good idea to be getting so knocked over the night'a'fore?" Corran put a hand over the next glass that Jaina was reaching for.

What do you care – you're gonna be swung by the end of the night, too... "I'll be fine." She said, shortly.

Corran watched her for a long moment, before standing up and striding over to the vend-tune built into the wall. Within a few minutes, he was back over, with a loud, slightly syncopated melody piping over the speakers. Several of the other patrons even stood to announce the simple, well-known lyrics to the rest of the tapper, with absolutely none of the grace or style of the singer.

"'Taint nobody can hear us now, over that." Corran finally said, grinning as easily as though he thought she were some naïve young thing, what didn't know all his charms, "...So, what's this all 'bout?"

"Nothing." She said, in her heaviest possible voice, like it would bring down a weight on Corran's attempts to push her.

"You never drank like this during other assignments." He pointed out. And by other assignments, he meant during the campaigns in the Yuzuhan Vong War. When she'd had them one after another after another, when there was no Temple to come back to, when there weren't even days or nights beyond what the timepieces insisted on keeping.

"...You know, if you're gonna insist on being logical and having FACTS, this relationship isn't gonna work out." She said. Also, she was kinda going with the What Corran Doesn't Know Won't Hurt Him line of thinking.

"...So? What's this about?"

Oh, just everything. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Really? Not at all?" Corran asked. Jaina signaled for a new glass, since Corran wasn't relinquishing the one she already had.

Right, and what can I tell Master Horn about that won't get me fragged by the Council? Ben? "No."

"Not even a little bit?" He pressed.

The fact that I'm apparently a coward who can't confront her own parents or tell her Aunt about some misadventure during vacation? "No." She repeated.

"...Tiney bit?"

"Corran, can't you take 'No' for an answer?" She finally snapped, which only got her one of those smiles. The music had changed to another upbeat, swingy-sounding song that seemed to be about talking down a girl who wouldn't give it up. Jaina was feeling distinctly uncomfortable, but she wasn't about to be the buzz-kill by walking out.

"When I was younger, I learned that you gotta go through a lot of 'no' to finally get to a 'yes'."

Oh. Ew.

"That's remarkably creepy coming from a married man old enough to be my father." She managed to sound cheerful. Corran opened his mouth – prob'ly to point out that she'd made the joke about their 'relationship' first – but shut it with a 'Good point' look after a moment, "You want me to tell Mirax about that when I next see her?"

And there was the dirty look that Jaina recognized as Corran realizing why they didn't hang out quite so much.

"Please don't." And then he turned back to the serving droid, "Another round."

The droid gave her a glance and Jaina just good naturedly jabbed her thumb in Corran's direction.

"Whatever the old man's having." Now that she was sure they were safely off the topic of what was bothering her. Corran gave her a look.

"'Old'? Who're you calling 'old'?"

"You, Old Man."

So, of course, Corran would stand up and call again, just as the droid had left to fix their orders, "Make that a half-dozen sonic screwdrivers – one half for me, the other for the little lady." Half of the tapper was staring at them, now. Well, that was just fine by her – if Corran thought he could out-embarrass her, she'd show him, proper.

"Little lady?" She asked, when he sat back down and the beleaguered droid went about actually preparing their order.

"I'll show you 'old'." He shot back, sliding back over to the music and setting up another half-hour of songs – and, oh joy, Jaina realized when Corran flopped back into his seat, they were all really dirty. So, when the drinks arrived and Jaina did her best to chug hers before Corran – lost cause, since she wasn't really a fan of carbonated drinks or sweet drinks, and sonic screwdrivers were bubbly orange and pink concoctions with half of the drink nothing but popping foam – she was treated to Master Horn belching the entirety of the aurebesh alphabet in perfect time with the music. The half of the tapper that wasn't already laughing at her for being shown up was now cheering on the irresponsible Jedi Master. Her face was nice and red as Corran sat down and gave her a 'Beat THAT' look.

In the end, it took several more rounds of sonic screwdrivers – enough to make her feel like there were bubbles permanently clinging to the inside of her throat and stomach – before she finally beat Corran by matching the belting crescendo chorus of an old, cheesy ballad that had everyone cheering by the end.

Ah well – she had come out to spend time with the people she missed before heading out on a new mission. Hadn't she?

~.~.~

Ben stayed in his room long past dinner. He knew, because his mother knocked on the door several times, telling him he could come down to eat, and Ben instead crawled under his covers and pretended he couldn't hear her. He could always feel her – and, sure enough, after the third time, he could tell his mother's temper was starting to flare. Whatever – he didn't want to face his parents, if they didn't want to deal with him.

Just as the sun had gone down, the decision was taken from his hands as the door to his room opened and he heard someone's footsteps pad over the carpeting. And then, he felt the taut, soft feeling that he knew always accompanied his father – like running your hand the wrong way over otherwise soft fur, knowing it was supposed to feel good, but something was just off.

And, like most every time Ben had to deal with being in trouble with his father, it started off with him sitting down on Ben's mattress and saying nothing. Waiting for Ben to make the first move. Waiting for Ben to say something so he could tell him to be quiet and listen to the lecture. Well, Ben wasn't going to fall for it – not THIS time.

"Dad, get off." Except his father was kind of sitting on his feet – or, at least, close enough that it made his feet itch.

"After we talk about what happened today." His father answered, in that unflappable calm that never failed to aggravate Ben. So, Ben flopped around and tried to will his father away by groaning as obnoxiously as possible, "You know how busy everyone in the Order is, these days – there was a lot I was supposed to be doing this afternoon when you told me Her Excellency was here to meet us."

Actually, Ben really didn't know how busy his parents were – they never talked about it, and they sure didn't talk about it with him, so how was he supposed to know how important that stuff was?

"Why didn't you tell your mother and I about this visitor sooner?"

"I did." Ben muttered, when it became apparent that his father was not going to leave and avoiding the conversation was nigh impossible. By the sound of his father's voice, Ben could tell that he was probably wearing the raised-eyebrow expression, and that was another thing Ben didn't really want to face at the moment.

"I never heard about it." His father answered, still perfectly calm.

"Well, I did." How was Ben supposed to know what his father knew or didn't know? He couldn't read minds, and he sure couldn't control other people's minds like his parents could – even though they always said they couldn't do so, but Ben was pretty sure they really could, because they always DID.

"When?" Going back to that question of how Ben was supposed to know what was going through his father's mind – like Ben could remember all the way back through the last month, every conversation he'd had with his parents. How was he supposed to remember THAT?

"I dunno."

"Baloney."

"Well, I don't REMEMBER exactly WHEN." Ben snapped back.

"Ben, please sit up and look at me when we're talking."

With a much put-upon sigh, Ben did as he was told, flopping around as much as possible before finally righting himself and crossing his arms. His father didn't comment on it.

"...Ben, talk to me – I can't know what to do unless you tell me."

Great, so now he had to say something, but no matter what he said, he was going to get in trouble and it's not like his father was going to listen to him. After all, Ben was absolutely sure he'd told either his mother or his father, or both, about the Countess, and he was MORE than absolutely sure he'd told them about Jacci, and they got mad at him anyway, and when he said he'd told them, his father didn't believe it.

They NEVER listened.

So, Ben didn't talk to his father, instead preferring to sit and pout and try not to sniff when tears started welling up because he was just so MAD. And because his father was mad at him, too – even if he didn't act like it, Ben could always feel it, like an insistent, throbbing beat being drummed on his head, or a rhythmic press on his chest that got heavier and heavier with each second, the angrier he got and the more disappointed he was, and the longer the silence dragged.

The worst part was knowing that this wasn't even the worst of it – he could feel his father trying to keep everything under a tight grip, under a cover so Ben couldn't feel them, but of course he did because how could he NOT and why did he have to be the son of LUKE SKYWALKER, why couldn't he have been a normal kid, without this empathic ability, not have to always be able to feel everything and have everyone think he was a freak and a lousy, stupid, pain-in-the-ass kid that they just didn't want to deal with...

And then, suddenly, that cover over the disappointment and the exhaustion grew thicker and foggier, as Ben felt his father put a hand on his shoulder.

"Ben, what's wrong?"

As much as the extra layer between Ben and his father's emotions was welcome – the anger still rang as clearly as ever, but at least it was just that – the hand felt like it was burning right through his shirt and into his skin. So, the only logical reaction was to flail and squirm and moan to get it off, and only fight harder when his father grabbed his wrists.

"Ben... Ben, stop this." His father's voice felt like it was coming from far away – from behind the gauze he was keeping over his emotions. Like they were in two separate rooms, divided by a window, and on the one side, Ben was trying to pry this burning THING off of him, and his father was in the other room, perfectly able to see through the window and know what was wrong, and instead was calling at him to stop fighting.

"No!" Ben shouted, trying to wiggle out and get back into his space. That little space that was his, and nobody could touch him in it. That space that he'd worked hard to keep to himself in a whole building full of people who could suffocate him like only a Jedi could...

"No, you're not going to stop?" His father wouldn't let go of his arms.

"NO!"

"No WHAT?"

"NOOOOO!"

Then the burning stopped, and Ben pulled back as far away as he could – all two centimeters of it. He heard his father sigh, again.

"Fine. We'll talk about it in the morning, then." And he left, giving Ben the privacy he wanted to crawl back under his bedcovers and wish he was somewhere else – anywhere else.

~.~.~

Mara looked up from the doc-work she had lined up as Luke left Ben's room. She had joked with Jaina about torturing her, but the cold, hard truth was that the endless, tedious, REPETITIVE forms she had to fill out to send to multiple government offices was the true torture – and having a son who was having another temper tantrum and a husband not able to deal with them? Well, why not just throw in the towel and commit some horrific moral crime – Hell couldn't be much worse than this.

Luke ran a hand over his face. She'd heard Ben shouting, however indistinctly, so her first instinct was that he was tired of putting up with their troublesome child's intractable nature or he was annoyed with Ben for the bother he'd caused today. But one touch into their bond – and a light one was all it took – and she knew...

What am I doing wrong?

Of course – he wouldn't be her farmboy without worrying about something.

The comm buzzed and Luke didn't miss a beat in answering. Tionne's voice came across, informing them both that Master Skywalker was needed downstairs for some other bother. With the tired way he closed his eyes and let out a breath, Mara knew that Luke was distressed enough already.

"I've got to manage with these – I'll hold things down on this end." She said, in a 'Go, get to whatever is so important they needed to pester you at THIS ungodly hour' voice.

And I'll be here for when Ben comes out of his room. Because he would – no matter his mood, their growing boy would get hungry sooner or later, and seemed to have no compunctions about trying to raid the pantry. And, as usual, if he'd fought with one of them, the other one would have a chance in getting him to open up.

Luke's response – one that Mara wouldn't deny made her feel like she must have been glowing – was to pop quickly over to her side and press a kiss to her temple before nipping out the door and downstairs.

~.~.~

When she tripped over the ottoman, Jaina knew that she should really try to keep it down and not swear too loudly.

"OW! Kark-a-motha..."

"Jaina?" Her head jerked up to see the familiar profile of Kyp Durron staring down at her. At least, she thought it was Kyp – he had dark hair, and pretty pale skin, and were wearing all black clothes or maybe that was because the room was dark... and a nose. And she was pretty sure this person was Human. And male. Either that, or they were female...

Who is that? "...Whossat?" She slurred, trying to pry her face off the floor.

The figure crouched and Jaina saw his face more distinctly. Definitely Kyp. She was really good at figuring things out.

"What're you doin'my room?"

"…Jaina, I sleep here." Kyp pointed out, and it took her a moment to work through that one.

Shit. "…Shit. I'm in th'wrong room again, ain't I?" She realized.

"Yup." Jaina let her head thud against the floor.

Dammit Kyp. "Dammit Kyp." She groaned, as though it were his fault that she was drunk and stumbling, and honestly, not feeling too hot at the moment. As though all her problems were his fault. As though every problem in the UNIVERSE were his fault.

"Not my fault this time." Kyp replied, perfectly monotone, as he grabbed one of her arms, "C'mon, sleeping on the floor sounds like a bad idea."

Jaina only really heard the 'bad' part of that, and her brain only really heard the part where he was saying it to her, so, putting the two and two together, she had the impression he was saying something bad about her. Well, she wasn't going to take that, so she did the mature, adult thing and shouted...

"YOU'RE A BAD IDEA!"

Kyp said nothing about the remark as he guided her – and, giggling, Jaina might have put her other arm around his waist and tried to do some combination of a sparring move and the trotter dance, until Kyp managed to deposit her on something squishy and soft and it kind of creaked but it mostly felt bouncy... and then she realized Kyp had NOT, in fact, moved her to the couch, but instead, to the bedroom. Y'know... the place HE was supposed to sleep.

Jaina started snickering, keeping an arm firmly hooked around Kyp's neck.

"...Make most guys buy m'drinks for me, first..." Because Kyp obviously wouldn't have heard THAT one before.

"...Jaina... lemme up." Kyp protested, pressing her into the mattress even more. Or, she realized, trying to push up and get away...

He'll leave... "You'll leave!" She protested, latching on even tighter in a grip she normally used to pin her opponent in wrestling. When she wrestled her fellow Knights, it was always that simple – keep them close, keep them down. That way, they couldn't get away. They couldn't leave. It was as close as she could get to anyone else, but then the bout would end and everyone went their separate ways and...

"...I'm not gonna... Jaina..." Kyp choked as she kept tightening her grip.

I don't wanna be alone. "I don't wanna be alone."

Next thing she knew, Kyp's face was pressed against her hair.

"You're not alone. I'm not going anywhere." Kyp's hand was running up and down her arm – the muscly part, "...Could you let go of my neck – I can't breathe."

I can't breathe, either. "I can't breathe, either..." She pointed out. Damn, Kyp was heavy. "...You're heavy..."

"Yeah, I know." Kyp shifted again, trying to pull away, "How about I just move a little – not crush you, an' all?" He was trying to get away, again. Trying to run for it. Because, apparently, she was that horrible to be around.

No. He'll leave. "No. You'll leave." She felt Kyp sigh against her ear.

"I'm not gonna leave." His hand stopped right where her arm turned into her shoulder – that, y'know, spot. She was ticklish there, "Just not be laying on top of you. I'll be right here." His hand moved to pat the spot right next to them. She wasn't sure if she wanted it back on her arm or if she was glad it was gone.

Is that a promise? "...Promise?" She'd meant to be all challenging – to call him on his bluff, because of course he was going to beat it, because they always did...

"Promise." And, oddly enough, she wondered if she could believe that. She loosened her grip and felt Kyp slide off and settle into the spot he'd indicated. She shivered, realizing how cold the room was, and that she couldn't handle it. Next thing she knew, there was a pillow smacking her in the face – it would do, since she didn't have nothing else to curl up around.

Jaina felt Kyp's hand – felt as goddamn heavy as the rest of him, but it was so cold and, shit she hadn't realized how much she needed that – against her forehead.

"See – still right here." Kyp said, but he felt so far away, alla sudden... "Not going anywhere."

Jaina just clutched the pillow tighter and tried to pretend that it wasn't Kyp with his hand on her feverish face – 'cuz, y'know, it weren't Kyp's job to watch her when she was sick or done something stupid, and got herself karked up. He weren't making it no easier – he kept talking.

"It's okay. You're not alone." Welp – that did it. Jaina started to cry.

"Yes, I am." She argued – Kyp didn't understand. His family weren't a giant wreck, all pretending it was just fine and dandy and no, weren't like they were falling apart or nothing, why'd anyone wonder that? Kyp hadn't lost a brother like her – well, okay, he had, and maybe he was also totally responsible for losing that brother, but it wasn't like he knew what it was like to not be able to stop the other brother from running out on him and all the other Jedi and the family, and then everyone wonder why he weren't doing more to keep it together...

She was alone...

"Jaina." Kyp was still sitting next to her, and that hand was firmly planted on her forehead, "How many did you have, tonight?"

That's a good question. "That's a good question." She mumbled, muffling her voice on the pillow, "...Ask Corran."

Kyp took his hand off her head and settled into the mattress.

"...Right. I'll do that."

Jaina was about to ask what he meant by that, when the comm buzzed and she felt him pull away and go whereever he had to go to make the buzzing stop.

"Jaina – there's a Council session being called." Kyp called, from the massive distance between the bed and the comm, "Can I trust you to not throw up and choke on your own vomit while I'm gone?"

In response, Jaina groaned and moaned, and finally turned over and pulled a waste-bucket towards where her head dangled over the edge of the mattress.

"Bleh." She agreed. It was somehow very uncomfortable, and at the same time, she really wanted to just fall asleep right there.

"I'll be back. Promise."

~.~.~

Tionne hadn't really meant to call this meeting as a formal gathering of the Jedi Council – nothing during the day had been truly serious enough to warrant it – but, yet, it had turned into one the moment that Master Hamner entered and looked about and asked why weren't each of the Council properly in their place. They were in the Council room, to be sure, but Tionne still didn't believe anyone had a proper place. Durron had been the last to manage his way in, following a staggering Corran and a somewhat less-so Master Kartarn before him. The two of them were standing in the corner of the room, apparently carrying on in their own way, while Durron kept his seat and remained in place, clearly just awaiting the arrival of their Grand Master and nothing more. Master Sebatyne had found a spot on the floor where the sun had been shining all day, also conveniently situated by a heating vent, and had settled to meditate, but now seemed to be closer to a nap with how her tail curled and her tongue flickered out with each exhale. Cighal was in her seat, next to Tionne, and the two of them were chatting interspersed with Kam occasionally popping in some remark that he found appropriate, even while he massaged her shoulders – he'd reportedly found too many knots in them while they were sleeping. He'd also claimed that he was trying to pop the egg-nests under her skin. Tionne mostly coped by reminding Kam of how much she adored him for trying to keep her safe, but to let her return to her conversation with Cighal or else she might be too tense for the egg-popping to commence. All in all, shaping up to be a pleasant evening, until, at last, Master Luke entered into the room.

"I'm sorry I'm so late. Hope you all..."

He was cut off when Master Hamner pointedly remarked that he didn't want to hear any pleasantries. Tionne would have agreed with him, but likely for different reasons that she was sure would have changed the tone of the gathering entirely. This was meant to be an informal meeting – the rare occasion when all of the Council were on planet, together, and might be the last occasion in a long, long time. Given that Tionne was also privy to how sensitive Master Luke was, she had thought it would do everyone's nerves a lot of good to have a moment together before likely spending the next six months not knowing where everyone was at any given time. Then, Durron made a point about how Master Luke was tired and everyone putting pressure on him was only making things worse.

"If I may – perhaps we are ALL feeling a little pressure right now. Maybe it would be best for us to relax and not be so aggressive with each other." Cighal mentioned, in a tone that Tionne alone recognized as being distinctly Calmarinian – the way of making suggestions when she meant to command, the way of expectations having their own weight and pressure to conform, and if only Human cultures as a whole weren't so based on more straightforward expectations, and so few of them appreciating the beauties of subtleties and implications doing the messy, impolite work of demanding, then perhaps it might have had the desired effect. As it was, Master Kartarn brusquely pointed out that there were more important things to worry about at the moment, and what were they all doing here, essentially wasting time?

"Easy, Kyle – we're off the clock, now." Corran pointed out, leaning back and stretching out, "No time a-wasting here."

Tionne might have pointed out that there wasn't quite a punch-clock for being a Jedi – not truly, when one considered that being a Jedi wasn't so much an occupation as a life – but Master Hamner's rebuttal sounded much more like he thought that the supposed job of a Jedi was a constant one.

"What's he whining about? He doesn't have to watch the Academy 24/7." Asked Kam, quietly in Tionne's ear. She just put a hand on the ones resting on her shoulders with a 'Yes, dear' to keep him from making any kind of scene. A scene, by any measure, is what Durron proceeded to make when he turned to Corran and demanded to know what kind of a night he'd had – particularly, the number of drinks he'd had, likely a highly inappropriate number for a Master.

"...Business is it've yours?" Corran wanted to know, in his way of sounding completely relaxed, and that particular quality just made him all the more intimidating – as though he were so powerful, he needn't even be bothered with being worried. Durron then pointed out that he had a very inebriated Jaina Solo in his room, likely passed out, and with a passing mention to how little he envied the hangover she would have in the morning.

"Ain't my fault – I told her to come crash in my quarters, if she had to." And Master Hamner felt the need to add a remark about how wonderfully responsible the younger generation of Jedi were turning out to be – though, Tionne noted, that comment was not entirely devoid of irony, especially with how Master Hamner sent Durron a look, as though he were noting that perhaps his friendship and former mentoring of the young lady was directly connected to her drinking. All of this, of course, went unsaid, but anyone would have to be either completely ignorant of the relationships, or a fool to not recognize the insult for what it was.

"Enough. All of you." Master Luke finally broke in, looking between all of them with a crease forming directly between his eyebrows, "I know we're all tired. I know we're all frustrated. I know that things have been difficult for a while now, and that we all know it's not likely to get easier any time soon. That's no reason to take it out on each other like this."

The whole Council room went silent. Even Master Sebatyne – one of the few who hadn't even participated in the conversation up until now – looked uncomfortable at the statement. Not that Tionne was surprised – she was more astonished she hadn't seen any evidence that their lone Barabel Master hadn't actively had any altercations with any of the rest of the Council, or anyone for that matter. In any case, it prompted Durron to sink back into his chair with a mumbled apology towards their Grand Master, Master Hamner to, with slightly more formality, also beg pardon, and Corran...

"...Sorry 'bout that." To say it as though addressing the whole room. Master Luke didn't appear to be truly appreciative of the words – Tionne could mostly understand that he hadn't been looking for a gesture, but an actual resolution.

"Do I really need to get involved with every fight we have? You're not children, and I'm not your mother." He asked, only then prompting a sissing fit from Master Sebatyne, whom noted that Master Luke's behavior certainly would have fooled her – the particular term she used was 'Nester', whose Human colloquial equivalent would be 'Mother Hen'. Master Luke didn't look terribly amused.

"Master, if I may – there is a practical reason for that." Tionne spoke up, herself, at last, "For most of us, the Jedi are, in a sense, our family." She need not gesture to the others whom that statement concerned – the circumstances between him and Corran's training were private, or how he'd persuaded Master Kartarn was their business, and while she felt his involvement in bringing Durron back to the Order was not the right course to take, it had also been personal and far be it for her to push into her Master's personal life. Her primary attention was on the years she had spent in her archaeological work – few contacts, secrecy as a necessity to protect the valuable artifacts she'd found, studying old Jedi lore, and without anyone to inherit it, "And, for that, you were the one to find many of us and bring us into the Order – to create an Order, at all, for us to come to. For many in the Order, you've actually brought them into being as Jedi, altogether."

"Breathed life int' us, sorta." Corran agreed, and Tionne was eternally grateful that he – and all the other members of the Council, whose looks ranged from thoughtful to amused – were neglecting to mention other ways they'd shared amongst themselves they thought Master Luke displayed particularly maternal behavior, be it his tendency to worry, scrupulously ensure the well-being of his pupils, or simply insist on being present for all who needed him. Master Luke needn't know how apparent it was to all of them – again, Tionne knew how sensitive he was. If everyone in the Order knew of his apparent mothering, how long would it take before he started to worry about how it appeared to the outside world – to politicians, and media outlets, and to anyone with power who would scoff and sneer at the Grand Master for not ruling with an iron fist, or for refusing to accept that, even if he didn't take the title, everyone saw him as the Grand Master? It would only harm his ability to teach and lead – no good would come of that.

"So you're like a mom. Team mom." Kam put in, folding his hands on her head as she felt the heavy weight of him resting on her shoulders, only slightly mitigated when her dear, darling, beloved husband decided that the situation required him to start pumping an arm and begin the chant, "Te-am Mom, Te-am Mom, Te-am Mom..."

"Why am I not the Team Dad?" Master Luke wondered out loud, obviously fighting down a grin, especially when Master Kartarn pointed out that Master Jade Skywalker was the one who filled that role, of course, "That doesn't make me a..."

"Te-am Mom, Te-am Mom, Te-am Mom!" Kam was joined by three more voices – Tionne was unsurprised that two of them were Master Sebatyne and Durron, given their propensity to give Master Luke trouble, often for what they erroneously believed was his own good, and for their reputations as being difficult simply for it's own sake, but Corran genuinely surprised her. She supposed he must have truly had quite a bit over his limit. When Master Luke shot him a look that seemed to do all the asking, he just shrugged, unrepentant, and explained,

"It's catchy." And when Durron asked, yet again, how many rounds, the answer was prompt, "...Coupla dozen... 'ahthink..."

"Te-am Mom, Te-am Mom, Te-am Mom..." Kam kept going with his ever growing chorus, "C'mon darling – you're not going to join the team-building exercise?" He asked, eyes sparkling with mischief as he massaged her shoulder. Master Hamner and, to an extent, Master Kartarn were looking long-suffering, although Cighal seemed to be warming to the idea, especially when Tionne sighed and joined them in a voice as effused with enthusiasm as Master Hamner appeared to be, but Kam was pacified anyway. He even started to complain, until everyone noticed one of the quieter, but no less amused voices joining in was Master Luke's. It took several more minutes, but finally the chanting died down – everyone but Master Hamner, whom was now in a sulk, had joined in eventually, leaving the mood in the room far more cheerful than at the start. At any rate, there were enough chuckles to release tension, and when everyone sobered, Master Luke straightened up.

"...It has been a long day. How 'bout everyone get some rest, once you've got everything else finished up? We'll be able to start tomorrow on a better foot."

Everyone rose, some more awkwardly than others – both Durron and Master Kartarn, Tionne was amused to see, went to assist Corran, even as he insisted he didn't need help while he almost fell forward upon leaving his seat. The Council room emptied, and in its wake, Tionne almost missed how the smile on Master Luke's face very nearly slid off, as though it were only in place because of how worn in the grooves and lines were.

~.~.~

It wasn't until Mara had to stretch out her neck and crack a few of the stiff vertebrae that she noticed the timepiece – it had been nearly an hour since Tionne had called the Order's Grand Master for whatever business it was, and then she heard a noise from Ben's room.

...And, more importantly, she could feel a little twinge of disturbance in the Force. Nothing dangerous, no harm or malice in the disturbance, but still something that made her worry, nonetheless. She left the docs on the table and crept towards Ben's room, concealing herself in the Force and the darkened hallway all the better when she saw a light streaming through the crack that Ben's door was open.

So, Ben wasn't sneaking out. Not yet. She slid in close enough to see through and notice her child – her only, her eight-year-old, her firstborn... – leaning out the window.

They were just a few stories below the top floor of the Jedi Temple.

"How did you GET up here?" Ben was asking someone, while Mara's heart did a few somersaults, until she saw a pair of small hands pull themselves through the window and into the room. It was a little girl – probably, from what little physical details Jaina had described, the same one whom had been responsible for all this trouble that they'd had today.

White hair in thick ringlets? Check.

Fluffy, impossibly impractical dress with lots of ruffles? Check.

Cap on head? Check.

Bright, pink and white swirled, 'Peppermint shoes'? That last one, she'd heard from Ben as he'd been so excited about their supposed visitor that he told both her and Luke about what she looked like – Jaina, of course, couldn't have cared less about shoes.

And then, the little girl started to, for lack of a better word, talk with her hands. It WAS a peculiar sight – Mara had never seen anyone do that before, and she had heard PLENTY enough languages in her lifetime. It certainly explained why Jaina and Ben had had such a keen memory of this girl, and how she'd attached herself to Ben so quickly, when he started doing the same thing, albeit with a great deal of motor-mouthing simultaneously.

...Actually, now that she thought about it, Ben DID do that – even if he never used any of the gestures Mara was seeing now, the irrepressible need for him to use his hands for something while he talked was certainly familiar.

"How did you even make it to the window? Did you climb the walls or something?" Ben asked, only for the girl – Mara could swear she'd heard a name for this child but couldn't remember... – to reply with something Mara didn't understand, "...Who's 'Fire-Paint'?"

And, in the window, Mara saw a head appear from over the frame. Someone was hanging, upside-down, outside her son's window.

"Wotcha." Mara had jumped a little when she saw him appear, so Ben had to leap so high, he could have easily hit the ceiling. This new stranger – a young man from the looks of it – had his hair hanging in braids all over his head, and goggles over his eyes that gleamed from the light of the room. Even so, he had an enormous grin spread over his face, revealing bright white teeth that contrasted with his dark skin, even as the little girl signaled something which made him say "I dinna tattle on you two – I jes' tol'em where I'd seen you get to."

Oussian accent – and a specific dialect that indicated he'd probably not been born on Ossus, but raised on planet significantly long enough, likely learned most of his language from the spacers and lowlifes whom Mara might have called her closest compatriots or greatest obstacles, and she wanted nowhere NEAR her son, and had been educated recently in a different household. The only thing that stopped her from bursting into the room, weapons brandished was that she could feel these visitors – unlike the head of their household – and not only was there a complete lack of malice or even dislike, she could feel a warmness emanating from them, almost a sense of pleasant openness, all too happy to regard Ben as they surely did their own families.

And he was young – despite being tall and lanky, Mara could tell that he couldn't have been more than his mid-teens. And not just in terms of years lived – he was a proper teen. She relaxed and watched a bit longer.

"So, YOU'RE… still doesn't answer my question how you got up here, and could you PLEASE come in and not hang upside-down outside my window?" Ben asked. Any other ire Mara felt melted with the pride that swelled in her chest.

"I'm good." The boy insisted. Mara rather thought differently.

"Please? I'm imagining you as a splat on the sidewalk in front of the Temple doors." Ben insisted.

Whatever the logic, this new stranger did, in fact, swing his way into the room and perch himself on the windowsill. He wasn't even wearing shoes – they were tied together by their laces and swung from being looped around his belt. But none of that seemed to matter as he proceeded to sit and watch Ben and the girl continue to talk, Ben with both his hands and his mouth and the girl with just her hands. They went on for what could only have been minutes, but clearly felt to them like simultaneously hours, and yet no time at all, much like when Mara spent time with Mirax or Leia or Jaina simply discussing the nonsense their boys had gotten themselves into, working on a project together, or even enjoying watching the clouds roll by and occasionally asking what time it was.

The more she listened, the more advanced words she heard out of Ben – certainly more than she ever heard out of him when he deigned to respond to her or Luke with his curt 'Hi', 'What', or 'I dunno' responses. Some were words she wasn't entirely sure where he could have learned them – she didn't use words like 'abstract' or 'exemplary' in her everyday conversations, and they weren't words that the farmboy would throw around casually enough for an eight-year-old to pick up on their usage. The Grand Master of the Jedi Order might employ them, in lessons or in his discussions with the Council or even with the various politicians he tried to negotiate with. But Ben wouldn't be present to see the more sophisticated side of his father like that...

"And there's this one – I finished it last night – and Merida and Astrid find this cave, and inside it, they find this vault of archaic lore and scriptures, and they start exploring because Merida thinks there might be a way to break this curse that the Nightmare King cast, and Astrid wants to see if she can find a way to..." Ben picked a datapad off the shelf and pushed it into the girl's hands, letting her scroll through the pages as he babbled, until she stopped and signed something, "Oh, uh, those are pictures you can find on the holonet – but I've got some that I tried drawing and..."

The boy came over and peered at whatever was written on the datapad.

"Oi – I know that story!" He said, tracing something with the tip of his finger, and the girl signaled something else, "Yeah – and then these blokes showed up, sta'ated casten fire spells, an' Elsa had t'come back t'help'em..."

The girl signed for another minute or two – clearly, both boys understood with perfect clarity, even if Mara could only guess some gestures, just based on what they looked a little like – before he shrugged.

"Ah – 'snot THAT good. I fink I did a be'uh one fer the poem Aunt Haid tol'us, 'bout the moons an' the stars..."

"Wait, you can PAINT?" Ben asked, his voice rising in pitch and volume in his excitement. Again, there was another shrug.

"'Swhere I got me name from..." He said, pointing back towards the girl, who repeated a sign Mara had seen earlier. And now, she was truly beginning to be disoriented – she wondered if this was what Ben felt like, whenever he showed frustration with them when they expected him to say something and he missed it, completely.

But she let them go on, and stretched into the Force, able to feel something in the room that she might never have felt, otherwise – it was warm and bright, it glowed almost exactly like Luke did, but also swelled and relaxed with the same kind of pulse as a beating heart. It almost had a taste – and it was a taste Mara remembered ever since she'd learned she was with child, but fuller, fleshed out, like a good wine which had finally been allowed to age and gain it's own unique flavor instead of just the fruit it had been crushed from...

It had been so long since she'd been able to feel Ben in the Force like this. The returned connection alone would have made her elated, but to feel his simple, utter joy – something that she'd worried for years now she might never see in her little boy, let alone feel...

She knocked on the door, heard a muttered curse that she KNEW Ben had learned from his Uncle Han, and a plea for his two visitors to 'hide', before...

"...Come in?"

Mara pushed the door all the way open and stepped in, ignoring the piles of clothes that Ben preferred to leave on the floor, no matter how much she scolded him to pick them up. Her son was sitting on his bed, obviously trying to look innocent, and with his blanket piled into a ball with someone quite obviously hiding under it.

"...Who were you talking to just now, Ben?" She asked. Ben managed to not look like he'd just been caught in his lie – then again, Mara remembered many other times when Ben managed to keep a blank face in spite of everything else...

"...Nobody."

Mara eyed the blankets, then tried to look like she wasn't suspicious – rather, curious.

"Really? I heard you talking to SOMEone."

"I was talking to myself?" Not unreasonable – Ben did rather have a tendency to talk out loud even in an empty room. It would have been amusing if Mara didn't occasionally hear him answer back to himself.

"I could have SWORN I heard other voices..." She started, feigning confusion.

And Ben burst out, his ears going red.

"No, you didn't – Jacci doesn't even HAVE a..." But Ben stopped, realizing that he'd just blurted it out, and prompting the girl – Jacci, Mara KNEW she'd heard a name attached to her, somewhere... – to peek out from under the blanket and meekly waggle her fingers.

"Hello, young lady. Where's the gentleman who brought you here?" Mara answered, at least trying to put on her 'I'm a nice lady, truly' face for a guest – and a little girl, at that – before she heard, over her head and in the corner that Ben's door was located in...

"'Allo." She would have jumped, especially to see that strange young man somehow clinging to the ceiling, upside-down, with apparently no grip. Somehow, though, it didn't surprise her in the least. Maybe she was just hitting that point in every woman's life when she's seen it all and nothing was quite that surprising anymore.

"Hello to you, too." Mara agreed, just a little sarcastic, and realized that those weren't goggles he was wearing, but something else – they were made of wire and glass, but sat right where some other eye-protection was supposed to go. She wondered what they were for – at the moment, their whole function seemed to be for the light to reflect on and hide his eyes, "I don't suppose you could come down for a moment?"

The boy apparently could – with startling speed and accuracy, landing on his feet despite having been hanging upside-down – and proceeded to remain as pressed into the corner as was possible without looking like he was trying to stay pressed in. Well, that wasn't Mara's concern. She looked back over to Jacci.

"And does your mother know you're here, by any chance?" She asked. Jacci's otherwise impeccable face crinkled a little, before looking to Ben and signing something. Ben returned the gesture, though this time without any vocalisations – Mara wondered why he'd been so happy to talk with both his voice and hands when she wasn't in the room, apart from the obvious answer that he didn't want her to understand what they were saying.

"Ben." He at least looked a little guilty when she spoke in her sharper, motherly voice, "You think I don't know that you're talking about me?"

His face turned red, including the tips of his ears.

"We weren't... she's just confused." He made another sign in Jacci's direction, which prompted the little girl in all white to raise a single eyebrow in a far more sophisticated expression that Mara would have ever expected from a child their age, "What'd you mean by 'mother', anyway?"

Mara felt the headache coming back, and forced herself to keep her temper in front of young company.

"You know exactly who I mean, Ben – the woman who was by earlier today?" She prompted. Ben mimicked Jacci's expression, before asking,

"The Countess? But she's Jacci's SISTER."

Oh... well... that was certainly...

"Hardly the point – either way, she gave the impression that she wasn't about to let you leave the house, anytime soon." Mara refused to be daunted by something trivial, and was relieved that the children in question all looked uncomfortable at being called on their attempts to weasel around their respective punishments, "That's what I thought."

In the end, she conceded not to inform the CMC of this indiscretion – after what she felt was a sufficient amount of pleading from Ben and the little girl by proxy of Ben – as long as neither she nor the young man with her left through the window again, and were better behaved upon their more formal introduction.

I must really be getting soft in my age. She contemplated, as she saw them out a side door, and ensuring nobody else caught sight of the two uninvited guests. But, considering they were just children – and her son's friends – she supposed that maybe she would prefer to be a little soft, rather than a little hard.

~.~.~

"Well, we had a pretty guest today, didn't we?" Mara mentioned, undoing the clasps on her jumpsuit and shrugging off the top. Luke, seated on the other side of the bed and pulling off his shoes, didn't even pause.

"I didn't notice." He sounded distracted – probably still mulling over his tiff with Ben. Or whatever Tionne had needed him for. Or any other number of things...

"You couldn't have not noticed how tiny she was." Mara pointed out, considering that SHE had noticed, and she didn't even care about things like women's fashion or supposed beauty standards – it was simply impossible to not notice when someone showed up who seemed to have squeezed themselves into an unnatural body shape. Luke made another, noncommittal noise, so Mara ventured, "Meanwhile, I can only wear clothes that would fit Pablario."

She'd mostly brought up the operatic singer to see if Luke was paying attention, but, as she stepped out of her trousers, she couldn't help but notice that her waist had increased, just a little more, when she felt like she was being let out of an excessively constrictive belt. After being pregnant with Ben, she'd never really gone back to her old size – something she'd been secretly been grateful for, as it meant she finally had an excuse to ditch the leather one-piece that everyone seemed to collectively agree was the most flattering on her, but the only reason she hadn't burned it long ago was because it was about the only piece of clothing she'd HAD – and at first she'd thought it was just some last few grams or so, but they never really seemed to go away, just slowly accumulate over the years. And, as she'd been mostly sitting around instead of actively doing something – meetings and paperwork did NOT count as work, in her opinion – she'd been feeling more and more like an obese Hutt than herself.

Well, it did the trick, as she saw Luke pause in pulling off his own trousers to consider what he'd just heard. And then, a little bemused turn.

"I happen to think Pablario is a very stylish dresser." He said, in a firm voice, which clearly communicated that he didn't want to hear any more about Mara's presumed loss of attractive appeal. So, instead, she snorted.

"Oh – you'd shag him, then?" She asked, pulling on a nightshirt over her chamise and trying to find a pair of loose bottoms to match. Luke snorted right back.

"Sorry – beards don't do it for me." He replied, even as Mara heard him find a pair of flannel undertrunks that doubled as sleepwear on nights like this. She gave up her hunt for something to cover these wrinkling, sagging thighs of hers and flopped onto the mattress, noisily enough that Luke turned to look at her.

"So, what does do it for you, then?" She asked, in the most teasing voice she could muster. And, when Luke's intelligent response was to blink at her – the hint probably going so high over his head, it was headed for orbit – she decided to be blunt, "It's been two months – I'm getting fed up."

Luke kept blinking, before he leaned back and stared at the ceiling, frowning.

"Has it? Been two months, I mean? I didn't notice how much time..." He caught the look on her face, "I mean, it's not like I was counting, and I guess I didn't really think about..." Another glance, and then Luke ran his hands over his face again, "I'm totally starting to sound like one of those husbands that forgets the anniversary, aren't I?"

Mara chuckled, low and deep in her throat.

"You are NEVER going to let me live that down, are you?" She asked. Luke smiled, wearily, before reaching over and taking one of her hands.

"...I thought you were tired – that we were both too worn out to... you know... that there wasn't time..."

"Oh, I am tired." Mara agreed, using the hand that Luke had grasped to guide his back to his stomach – all the sedate work had started affecting him, too, even if the loose robes of a Jedi Master hid it to the casual observer. And, now that Mara thought about it, clinically, not having enough time for meals beyond nutrition packs or whatever the food dispenser spat out was probably not helping either of them. A few weeks on survival mode? Fine. Going on four years in war reconstruction?

...Maybe it was time to schedule some visits to a dietician or at least some physicals.

"...Then...?" Luke sounded confused, and Mara didn't blame him – she knew how cranky she could be when she hadn't had enough rest.

"I'd rather be a little short on sleep every once in a while than waking up from a full night's sleep and not being touched by my HUSBAND for weeks on end." And, if they were talking about needs and rest, she really had a hard time sleeping well, these last few days.

Luke's eyebrows crawled up his forehead, making him look several years younger, as Mara let her fingers run over the waistband of his trunks. Then, his hand joined hers, twining their fingers together.

"...I HAVE noticed we both DO seem to sleep better after – Mm..." Mara didn't let him finish, instead leaning over and pressing him into the pillows.

Fifteen minutes later, as they curled up together, Mara listening to Luke's breathing and heartbeat coming down from it's recent rush, she could feel the tension that had been bothering her for so long start to melt. The knots all down her back were loosening again, and the lump that had settled in her stomach sometime in the last month slid away. And she remembered – remembered, as she had forgotten with all the frustrations and the exhaustion and the irritation that she'd had on her back since reconstruction efforts started at the end of the war – remembered why she'd done this. Remembered why she'd thrown her lot in with the Jedi Order. Remembered why she'd chosen THIS life.

"I love you." Luke's sleepy voice muttered into her hair.

"I know." She murmured back, drifting into a far deeper sleep than she'd had in the last two weeks.

Because Luke.

~.~.~

That night, the nightmares came back.