No fair fight here after all - only the desire to win. Perhaps they were more similar than either realised...
Skywalker's saber closed on Palpatine's throat, his father's lost blade returning in that same moment to his outstretched hand, the two blades meeting in a scissor action-
"STOP!!" Palpatine poured five long years of merciless control into that single word.
.
Stupidly- stupidly- Luke hesitated, unable to withstand the intensity in his Master's command. He faltered, the moment's dark clarity lost, intent wavering... and the Sith saw it.
"You always hesitated, Jedi. You always doubted yourself." Palpatine wheedled, voice hypnotic, yellow eyes shifting from genuine fear to a self-assured composure. He shook his head in mock pity, grating voice dismissive and amused, "I didn't make you- you made yourself with your own insecurities and fears. I warned you to hold them in check or your enemies would use them against you..."
.
A small wisp of smoke curled up past the edge of Luke's vision, daunting in its implications-
Realising, he glanced down... below the bright radiance of the two scarlet sabres in his hands was the incandescent glow of a third-
And Luke heard the goading triumph in his Master's voice; "How much do you want me dead, my little Sith?"
Luke's hesitation at his Master's words had created the opportunity for him to slowly bring his own blade about, level with Luke's stomach, the tip now inches away from his skin, burning a fine hole in the fabric of his shirt-
Palpatine kept those sulphurous yellow eyes steady on Luke, "... Enough to kill yourself for the opportunity?" The slightest of deprecating grins pulled thin, bloodless lips back from spoiled yellow teeth; the boy had hesitated too long... he'd won again. The Sith shook his head slowly, voice malicious and mocking, "I think not."
Luke remained frozen, seeing exactly every nuance of emotion as it passed over his Master's decrepit features, mismatched blue eyes remaining locked on spiteful yellow-flecked ochre....
.
This was the price...this was the price to end his Master's reign - because if he truly wanted to end it then to kill Palpatine wasn't enough. His precious Sith Dynasty would continue, he had already ensured that....
Luke blinked slowly, a strange, detached calm flowing through him, buzzing in his ears.
Time slowed about him, his heartbeat dragging...
Abruptly he remembered Bespin- remembered this same pacific peace settling so benignly about him as he'd stood, resolute, at the edge of the instrument vane, no-where left to go...
No-where left to go.
This was the price... and he was willing to pay.
.
He held his eye on the end goal, unflinching and composed, committed to the action.
The tranquil stillness which bled through him was like a deep breath of warm air, gifting acceptance and serenity, the ability to move forward. The slightest of smiles twitched at the corners of his scarred lips as Luke stared at his Master for long seconds... but he would not blink-
Mismatched blue eyes hardened, defiant.... and he watched that heinous grin fall from his Master's face-
In that last second, Palpatine saw the commitment in those wild eyes-
He retreated, stumbled back a step, saber out before him at his Jedi's stomach-
.
...The stubbornness which was a strength...
Death... he heard the grating drone of the blades- scarlet red, the colour of blood and betrayal...
...the hiss of superheated light....
.
Luke lunged forward into Palpatine's blade, embedding it front to back through his own body, jerking at the bite, pulling the crossed sabers in his hands open as he did so, the scissored blades slicing effortlessly through flesh and bone-
The Sith's decapitated body fell away before him, Luke remaining upright for a few seconds more as Palpatine's blade tugged free from his body, bringing Luke crumpling to his knees.
In the next instant, a backwash of power exploded out from the dead Sith's corpse- Darkness and fury and fear released, the energy impacting on Luke as he gasped against it, wrenched backwards by the force, unable to do more in that moment than simply endure it.
.
When he opened his eyes, aware again, he was crumpled against the far wall, still somehow upright but knelt down awkwardly, sat on his heels, arms wrapped about his stomach against the fire which burned deep there.
In the absolute silence, he listened to his own laboured breathing for a long time...
He wondered if he could stand, realised that he couldn't, recognized that he was sagging down now, falling deeper into the utter silence, reality becoming an ever more distant whisper as his body began to fail.
Momentarily he panicked, looking about him... holding out his hand, he called his father's lightsaber to him across the dust-strewn floor and tried unsuccessfully to pick it up, hands incredibly weak.
Instead, he rested his palm on it, the searing fire in his stomach expanding outwards now, weakness toppling him over onto his side, the shattered room twisting dizzily about him. His eyes fluttered, lungs burning against laboured breaths, simply breathing becoming an impossible task, chest heaving air in short, shallow breaths, no oxygen left, like suffocating- like drowning in deep water.
He let out a gasping sigh and whispered her name - in that moment nothing else mattered; neither betrayal nor blame. All he wanted was to touch her sense again, to touch that radiant red hair, soft as silk and bright as glowing flame; "Mara...."
And the world faded away....
.
.
.
Knelt outside the doors, slumped on the floor, Mara buried her head in her hands until the roaring tornado of power drawn from the Force fell to ominous stillness, leaving her sure they were both dead...
She sat and sobbed into the void, the silence absolute.
.
His voice speaking her name issued from nowhere and everywhere, no more than a broken whisper, his sense fading to darkness.
She dragged herself upright, tears blurring her vision so that she clawed blindly at the lock, rushing in, desperate hope thrown out against all belief, convinced they were both dead.
Palpatine's decapitated body lay in the centre of the pale cream marble, a burst of grimy destruction radiating out about it in the devastated room, his precious, prophetic throne toppled beside him. She walked no closer, searching the dust-laden gloom, desperate and desolate, afraid to see-
Little more than a crumpled shadow in the all-pervading darkness, Luke lay slumped on his side, ashen white and deathly still.
Mara stumbled forward, tears blurring her vision, breath frozen in her lungs, caught in a lockjam at the back of her throat... then she was on her knees beside him, reaching out tentatively to touch his face...
The relief was a physical release so intense she felt the blood drain from her head, leaving her dizzy and faint.
He's alive... he's alive!!
She stroked his hair and cried all over again, the emotion spilling out of her, unstoppable, fear and hope and disbelief and loss and longing, too much to possibly process. All she could do was stroke his hair and whisper to that distant sense, growing ever paler.
He wouldn't die- he wouldn't. She wouldn't let him. He was everything she needed- everything this whole sad, lost, battered galaxy needed...
He couldn't die. Not after all this...
She swiped the tears away with the heel of her hand as years of indoctrination cut through the shock and the absolute calm of a trained soldier kicked in once again.
Pulling herself together with a long, trembling sigh, she lifted her comlink from the floor where it had fallen unheeded.