.
.
.
Luke's eyes fluttered open and came to rest on Mara, his sight still blurry, but her shock of long gold-flecked auburn hair was unmistakable.
"Hey Red." He croaked, the words grating his raw throat.
"Hey black and blue." She beamed at the brief, crooked smile he flashed before he flinched as it pulled at the deep scar which sliced through both lips. She'd been about to launch into her usual burst of information, but he surprised her by coming back with a cognisant reply, more aware than usual.
"Suppose you think that's funny." he whispered gamely, eyes already beginning to close again.
The smile fell from Mara's face as, suddenly very serious, she admitted, "No- not in the slightest."
She reached out to push his hair from his face, but instead, on impulse, gently touched the deep wound on his lips, the continuation of the disturbing gash carved from above his eye down to his chin, left untreated by Hallin save for the long line of neat sutures closing it.
"Is this sore?" she asked, finger hovering above his lip.
"No," he said quietly, "Its split isn't it?" It was the understatement of the year... and quite suddenly Mara realised that he hadn't seen his reflection yet. Unable to touch his own face, he had no idea of the severity of his wounds there. Probably no-one had even mentioned them in the face of far greater injuries.
Moved in that moment in a way she couldn't decide, but very sure, she leaned over... and gently kissed him.
His lips were warm and soft, the heavy scar pressing rough against her lips as he leaned toward her, head turning just slightly. For long moments they remained like this, willingly lost in the moment, an unconditional expression of relief, of deliverance.
It felt so completely right to Mara; left her wondering why his heartrate hadn't missed a beat on the monitor, because hers had surely skipped, still thumping against her ribs, a warm glow spreading to the pit of her stomach. When she finally pulled back he studied her for long seconds, both suspicious and at ease - and surprisingly self-possessed.
When he spoke, still no more than a hoarse whisper, there was doubtful, unassuming humour in his broken voice. "So.. is this something we generally do?"
She smiled, green eyes teasing, "You don't remember?"
He was already beginning to drift, exhaustion overtaking him so quickly still. "See that's just unfair." he murmured, eyes fluttering closed.
She shook her head at that, watching him drift asleep, knowing full well that when he woke again, this moment would be forgotten; lost to him the moment he slept.
"Yes." She whispered regretfully, "... yes it is."
Chapter 7
Luke opened his eyes slowly, the world swimming before him, his vision still dark and hazy down his right side, forcing him to turn his head slightly to bring his Master into focus, even this small movement cutting deep across his collarbone, forcing him to freeze, unable to even breathe for long seconds. Time still condensed into short bursts of awareness, no real sense of any specific length between them, leaving him with the unsettling sense that people simply appeared and disappeared about him in the single blink of an eye.
His Master spoke, unheeding of Luke's disorientation. "I have news, my friend. My agent within the Rebellion's main base has sent the proof I have been waiting for - confirmation that your attack originated there."
Palpatine paused just slightly, almost unwilling to finally impart this damining information. It had been a long time coming and he had worked hard to achieve it, to force the Rebellion's hand whilst not betraying his own. "The assassination order came from the Rebel Alliance, dictated by their 'honourable' leaders, so full of their own pious, self-righteous morals - until it's no longer convenient. They are your aggressors, my friend; those you fought beside, those you never once harassed or denounced. How quick they are to condemn you now... but didn't I always warn you of their treachery?"
He fell to silence, sharp yellow eyes locked on his Jedi's, searching for some reaction, for the explosion of fury which would have welled up inside of himself had he been given this news - for the continuation of his outrage just a few days earlier when the true motive behind the attack had come to light.
Strangely, the boy only slumped, his head turning away, expression completely void of any emotion. Palpatine reached out subtly with the Force, but all he sensed was a momentary impression of a weight pressing in on the boy, deep and profound; disappointment not anger, loss rather than outrage. But acceptance; the final severance of old ties, even those which lay buried. Something Palpatine himself could never have induced - such a profound parting of the ways had to be incited by those his Jedi trusted.
He was almost immediately pushed back, barriers raised and true emotions hidden, but he'd glimpsed the truth, and that was enough. Enough to bring the veiled ghost of a gratified smile to the old man's lips.
The grief washed over Luke in waves, yet he felt strangely quiet as he turned away, shutting down the emotions which he knew his Master was searching out, pulling back inside himself and listening to the sound of his own ragged breathing, hearing his heart beat slowly. If he could have stopped them, stilled them both beneath the weight of this tearing loss, then he would have done so without hesitation. Simply closed his eyes and slipped away...
Memories and moments came whirling to mind - those which had sustained him for so long; recollections of trust and fellowship which had held him grounded in the eye of this endless storm.
Had Leia been there, when they'd made this decision? Had Mon? The woman who'd shook his hand and told him that she was proud of his commitment- that they needed more like him. Had Rieekan, the man who'd promised him that there would always be a safe haven for him within the Alliance on the same day he'd become top of the Empire's Most Wanted list? Had Madine and Ackbar? Had Han?
After a long time, Luke became aware that his Master was still speaking, still pontificating on some detail or indictment. He wanted to tell him to stop - that the battle had been won, that he understood this final betrayal, that he accepted its implications and consequences.
But all he could do was to lie there and watch those thin, bloodless lips move in self-righteous accusation and listen to the profound silence which existed between the beats of a wounded heart.
.
He woke again late at night, a familiar presence in the room scratching at the back of his mind. Vader stood back in the shadows, though he could hardly be missed, the hiss of his respirator loud in the silence despite the fact that what had once seemed harsh and jarring was now so familiar as to be... reassuring.
Luke knew, recalled through the haze of broken awareness that had punctuated long days whose number he had no count, remembered his father's presence in the room, his sense of anxiety - concern even. He didn't trust his father of course, aware that his concern could be nothing more than self-serving, but now, at low ebb, he hadn't the energy or the inclination to maintain their usual distance.
Perhaps Vader sensed this, because his words brought Luke's head around in their rare empathy. "Don't dwell too long on this. It was inevitable- greater forces were at play."
He knew that his father wanted to say more, that he wanted to say all that the Emperor had said. That he wanted to say 'I warned you. I told you. I knew and you wouldn't listen'. If he could have, Luke would have wiped at his eyes, but his arms were still useless, and all he could do was to shake his head, sending a shock of pain across his chest and shoulders. Eventually he let out a bitter little laugh, finding his voice in his anger at himself.