Hallin had given Skywalker the rough, twisted shard of metal several days earlier, Luke turning it over in his hand, "What's this?"
"I though you might like it." Hallin had said cryptically of the splinter, finger-length and diameter and set in a curling twist, the metal chemically discoloured by heat.
"What is it?" Luke prompted.
"That's the piece that nearly killed you." the slender medic said casually. "I took it out of your neck in surgery - it's the reason you couldn't speak for a while. It had pierced your windpipe side to side. Somebody somewhere is watching over you because the curl of the metal made it twist around your jugular as it entered but I had to do an emergency tracheotomy on the hangar floor to enable you to breathe past it. You were choking on your own blood."
Luke turned the wicked splinter of shrapnel over in his hand, "So naturally you kept it."
"Actually I felt I did a pretty impressive reconstruction of your throat in the resultant surgery so I kept it to show you. Thought you might appreciate my talents a little more." That dry, confident mix of pride and vanity laced as ever with just enough self-depreciation to make it engaging.
"Well it's nice to know you had your priorities straight." Luke croaked, amused.
"I also remember reading somewhere once that back in the days when solid projectiles were used in guns, there was a saying - that there was a bullet somewhere with your name on it. It's not quite a bullet, but that one unquestionably had your name on it. I thought you might like to keep it - just to prevent it making its way back into the public domain to somehow make another attempt at fulfilling its purpose." Hallin held Skywalker's mismatched eyes for a fraction too long at that, then turned away, suddenly embarrassed at the sentimentality.
Luke smiled amiably, "That's what I have you for Hallin." he dismissed easily.
"If I'd have been two minutes later onboard the Peerless, it would have made no difference." Hallin maintained, all business now, his voice holding that touch of self-righteous scorn which only a medic could ever get away with. "Remember that next time you're off gallivanting in your precious I-TIE."
"You'll always arrive at the very last minute to patch me up- you just like the drama."
"No, I like sitting on the terrace with a tall drink and nothing better to do than watch the galaxy turn." Hallin corrected. "I do not like patching you up at regular intervals and nursing my shredded nerves whilst I wait for your next emergency." He glanced meaningfully at the long twist of plassteel, "Next time you're about to do something foolish, look at that piece of shrapnel and remember that fact."
.
By late afternoon, Luke had wandered out onto the wide balcony overlooking the Monolith's roof gardens and the sprawling metropolis beyond - the first time he had stepped outside since his injuries - and was leaning against the ornately-carved terrazzo stone balustrade, gazing out to the city.
Mara wandered casually out behind him, scowling in the bright light, the sun lowering on the horizon as tall, closely-packed buildings cast stretching shadows over the metropolis. He still had nowhere near his strength back Mara knew, but he was getting better every day now. She'd even caught him making a few experimental right-handed test-swings of his lightsaber hilt. He was, she could tell, itching to get back into practice.
"You shouldn't be out on the balcony." she admonished at last, eyes scanning the distant high-rise towers. "It's an open invitation for a sniper with a range-rifle to take a shot."
He seemed more amused than anything, "Mara, I just survived a four-click explosion at point-blank range - how likely do you think it is that one laser shot is gonna take me down?"
"Stranger things have happened."
"Yeah, well that's not nearly strange enough for my life." He dismissed easily without turning round.
She glanced at him, unconvinced. He was hardly at peak fitness, though she wasn't about to mention that aloud.
"I'm fine." He said, well aware of what she was thinking, choosing not to mention that the breeze was making his dressing-gown, light as it was, snatch painfully at the long metal tension bars across his collar bones - he wouldn't miss them when they were gone.
Mara stood watching him for a few seconds, his linen dressing-gown fluttering in the warm summer breeze, his long, dark blond hair blown into disarray...
He glanced sideways at her momentarily, making her aware that she had stared too long, so she quickly looked away, following his gaze before turning and lifting herself up to sit on the wide stone balustrade, so confident in her own sense of balance that she remained oblivious to the lethal drop behind her. If it bothered Skywalker at all, then he hid it well.
Mara glanced back toward him just for a moment, "If I had a credit for every time that I found you looking out over this damn city..."
He grinned, still staring out over the densely-packed urban sprawl of affluent, luxurious high-rise buildings, the wealthiest and most prestigious on Coruscant - a view of the Imperial Palace doubled the value of a property here; he couldn't imagine why. "Then maybe you could pay me back half of the credit you owe me from playing sabacc."
Mara smiled, flicking her golden-red hair from her face in the warm breeze, "I'm just waiting until it's worth my while to offer you double or quits."
His own smile faltered, a brief shadow of doubt flickering across his face, gone in an instant, "See, that's exactly the game I'm contemplating right now too." he murmured quietly.
Mara glanced sideways at him, knowing he was thinking about the Emperor's imminent arrival. His eyes were locked onto the twisted piece of shrapnel that Hallin had given him as he turned it over and over in his hand.
"I'd think very carefully before I crossed him." she advised, keeping her tone light so that Luke would know she meant nothing by it other than to offer advice.
"I'm not thinking of crossing him - not at all." Luke corrected, closing his fist about the wicked shard of plassteel. "Just... upping the stakes."
Mara frowned, "To what?"
Skywalker set his head on one side but offered her nothing more, lapsing into silent thought once again, eyes roving the distant city, the huge buildings bathed in a carmine glow as dusk fell. Mara sighed, looking down as she kicked her heels against the balustrade, legs swinging. "You know, sometimes you're worse than Palpatine with your secrets and your scheming."
He only grinned, unoffended, "I'd be a fool to tell you and you know it." he murmured quietly, though there was neither malice nor accusation in his voice.
Still, Mara felt a pang of guilt which kept her eyes to the ground, irresolute morals and deep-seated loyalties holding her to an uneasy silence.
.
.
Luke walked through to his dressing room to dress for dinner and the shirt that he had requested was waiting, freshly laundered and pressed, on his dressing stand. Ever-organised, Darrick had known exactly the shirt that Luke required and brought it from storage.
It was absolute black- a colour he seldom wore. A close-fitted, stand-collared dress shirt of smooth, refined cortal linen with tiny, hand-woven vinesilk knots forming multiple small buttons down the centre front, the fine braided loops which fastened them incorporated into a subtle, intricately-topstitched pattern, black-on black. He left them open partway, the fitted style of the shirt pulling against the tension bars set into broken bones, so now the meticulously stitched high collar hung casually loose, the fine fabric cool against his skin, perfectly fitted, handmade to the highest quality.