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Author	Topic: Completion (Pre-NJO) Mara viggie
ThePariah Registered: Jan '03	Date Posted: 1/2/04 12:51pm Subject: Completion (Pre-NJO) Mara viggie
	Okay, I'll do it the fancy-shmancy way this time Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Lucasfilm, the character(s) within are the property of George Lucas, and I am making no profit from this little yarn. So keep your piehole shut, Fatboy. Timeline: Pre-NJO Genre: Vignette/Drama/Romance/Humor Character(s): Mara Jade Summary: The musings of Mara Jade in her own perspective, on herself, her marriage, and the future. Completion People and lights. Every night I stand out here on our terrace, looking at the city. Watching the traffic go by, counting the lights in all the buildings. I never used to give a damn about people—only the ones who meant business or elimination. But now, for no reason, my mind occupies itself with concocting stories about each of those airspeeders and windows. I'm starting to wonder about the pulse of the world. What are those folks doing as I stand out here in the breeze? How many of them are laughing or smiling or reclining in peace, their desires sated or their lives drawing to a fulfilling close? How many are still pining their hopes and dreams, or mourning some untold misery, alone and uncared for as I once was? None of this should matter to me. Yet it does, in its own maddeningly sentimental way. He's definitely growing on me. A few nights after he proposed, once the initial surprise and post-combat romantic fancies had worn off, I was actually afraid. For the first time in a long time. I woke up in the middle of the night feeling like I'd just run into a wall. Here I was, about to engage in a full-blown relationship with a man who was every bit the antithesis of my character. Never mind the mutual penchant for attracting trouble and dealing enthusiastically with it. I had no concerns over the possibility of my future husband wanting to cool his heels either—a man like him doesn't have a prayer of settling down, even if he begs for it. At any rate, the taste for adventure is still as strong in him as it is in me; he's not exactly a farmboy anymore, but he can sure still tackle life like one. What worried me was my own glaring lack of emotional experience. Somehow I had survived having the entirety of my mind, heart and soul bared to him with no filters whatsoever, and I can admit I don't regret that. I have a newfound sense of freedom, knowing that Luke's accepted the whole of my being, good parts and bad, just as I now know his. However, a single minute's loaded experience jacked through our minds at hyperspeed does not take place for real interaction. At least he's had the benefit of being in love before, as badly as it went. For all of my life, love was a concept as alien as Brebishem troupe music. Lust I could conjure easily—it was the fastest, if a rather degrading, way to dislodge an interested enemy's attentiveness. I could always count on a man to be brought down by his vices. Talon Karrde was one of those rare men who had true integrity, in spite of the company he occasionally kept. He had numerous opportunities to attempt to take advantage of me. To this day I'm merely a dear friend and confidant, and I am quite satisfied with that. And I'd rather not even think about what went on with Lando. The only thing I give him credit for is exposing me to the lowest depths of embarrassment. We've called it a truce, though. Pardon me for sounding corny, but love and trust are the Unknown Regions my heart has been given the task of charting. The only skills I felt that were essential were those that kept me alive and useful, and affection and empathy were definitely not high on my list of priorities. Palpatine raised me to believe that he was the sole being in existence who cared if I lived or died, and that the galaxy was a cruel, unsympathetic wasteland of greed and feeblemindedness that constantly needed to be weeded of plotters and fools. And like a fool myself, I did believe him. Long after he perished, I retained the conviction that there was no true good in anything; those who appeared to be altruistic had their own selfish motives or were simply too stupid to wake up and accept the fact that all their efforts were in vain. Though I readily took part in comradeship and never neglected to look out for those who worked with me, emotional attachment was considered a weakness I couldn't afford to succumb to. In some fashion it made me feel superior, that in my professional coldness I was stronger than everyone else, had more willpower. I never stopped to realize what a disservice I was doing to myself. That nice chauvinistic front was only there to mask my own insecurities. By denying myself the basic human right to give in and just feel I had forgotten to build a foundation under my bunker, and I was actually weaker inside my hard little shell than any of them. And then there was Luke. Luke, the most grating, irritating, annoyingly unflappable little pest I had ever met—because he was utterly unlike anyone I had ever known before. Calm, soft-spoken, enduring, compassionate, and almost naively trusting. He trusted that a strange, angry woman with a blaster and his lightsaber wouldn't murder him in his sleep while nonchalantly brushing off the danger of being eaten alive by wild vornskyrs. I would have died laughing had I not hated him so righteously. It only made me loathe him that much more. That the man responsible for the destruction of my livelihood and five years of absolute hell had turned out to be a bleeding heart. Nothing takes the satisfaction out of a good clean kill than having your target bare his breast for you to slide your knife into it. Long before I really admitted it to myself I knew I was never going to go through with the deed. During those nights we slept on Wayland I started seeing him in my dreams again, but not fighting against the Emperor. We were in Jabba's palace, his back turned to me exactly as it had been when he'd so casually dropped in on the slug. This time I succeeded in procuring a weapon from the nearest goon's holster, but just as I brought it up and fixed his head in the sights, he turned around and saw me. I would freeze and curse my stupidity, expecting him to defend himself or attack me outright, but he never moved. The stinking crowds around us seemed to melt away as he just stood there staring at me in utter silence without a trace of challenge or fear in his eyes. He was just waiting for me to decide his fate on my own, willingly accepting whatever choice I made. I told myself later he was a fool, but I couldn't shake the disturbing sense of uncertainty it gave me. I had known despair very well by then. But that last night before we took on C'baoth was the only time in my life that I had ever felt the urge to just die. Just shove a barrel in my mouth and pull the trigger and forget I'd even existed. When the Noghri told me who the son of Vader really was, it all came rushing into me in one gut-wrenching jolt: that I had been nothing more than a pawn. Everything I had clung to for the past five years was a lie. Palpatine had used me so well. I had no greater objective than to slaughter an innocent man for the sake of petty vengeance against a traitor. And there was Luke again at my side, concerned for my well-being when he should have been resting for the next day's battle. When he sat down in front of me and put his hands on my shoulders, those ridiculously sincere blue eyes of his gazing into mine, I almost caved in. Almost. To hell with it all, I wanted to say, and just make a weeping ass of myself (like I finally did a few months ago on Nirauan). It was too much to handle all at once—feeling that I had no purpose in life whatsoever, having to face a psychotic clone Jedi the next day, realizing how much I really owed to this man I'd been treating worse than something I'd step on in a nerf stable. The thought of being possessed by someone as malevolent and even more fanatically ambitious than the Emperor himself so quickly after knowing the cold sickness of abandonment was unbearable. I was inexpressibly humiliated and scared out of my wits. Bravado was the only thing I had left to hide behind. So I ate my words, and they tasted bitter going down. And the rest is history. This is the first half. Let me know what you think. -----signature----- Eternal Groveler to rhonderoo, VaderLVR64, Knight_Aragorn, Oba, & the SJRS crew Has a postcard from the Dark Side. "I suspect that most if not all the world's ills could be cured by humour transplants."--Karen Traviss TEMPORARY SET-UP!!!
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Jaina_and_Jag Registered: Apr '03	Date Posted: 1/2/04 1:05pm Subject: RE: Completion (Pre-NJO) Mara viggie
	Very nice!! You really have a gift.
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LaYa_ Registered: Jul '03	Date Posted: 1/2/04 1:06pm Subject: RE: Completion (Pre-NJO) Mara viggie
	That's wonderful!!! More -----signature----- The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.
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ThePariah Registered: Jan '03	Date Posted: 1/2/04 1:29pm Subject: RE: Completion (Pre-NJO) Mara viggie
	And more I give you... For two people as disparate as we are, we pretty much made the same mistake. All while I was busy judging him over the past wasted decade, I neglected to see the Endorian log in my own eye. Even though he admits that I was mostly right about what I warned him of, he wasn't the only one who was too wrapped up in things to see clearly. I suppose you could say I got a little spoiled after the crises of Thrawn and the reborn Emperor. When I took up Luke's offer to become his student, I was expecting some sort of personal interaction with him. Naturally I was irked when I wound up hardly seeing him at all on that blasted sweat ball he called his academy. Granted, he had a fair number of ragtag hopefuls to work with, but that was a weak excuse. I was more disappointed in his indifference than not learning anything new. Turns out he was expecting me to approach him first, since he'd gotten so used to walking on eggshells around me. He didn't want to me to feel I was being stifled. And like an idiot, I had selfishly craved a hint of friendship without trying to offer something back. Believing I didn't matter to him any longer, my interest withered. Luke was an enigma, an incomparable hero whose shoulders buckled under the weight of a galaxy that was his sole responsibility to safeguard. What place did a mediocre Jedi-cum-trader have in that picture? The bitterness I'd managed to cast off for a short time came back full strength, and I was my old self again. Not that it did me much good. That sinking feeling of futility and emptiness returned. What the hell was I here for anyway? Life wasn't a struggle anymore, but it depressed me to no end thinking that the universe wouldn't have been a much different place if I'd never been born. I know it was dumb; there's plenty of folks who don't merit world-shattering consequences in their lives either, and they're perfectly happy knowing that. I just didn't care. In a twisted way I'm unspeakably glad that the whole Thrawn rerun came to pass. I am sorry for those it hurt or killed, but without it, I wouldn't be here today on this balcony, with a gold band on my left ring finger and a new surname. Luke says everything happens for a reason, and I'm starting to believe him now. Never in my wildest imaginings did I expect to be rescued by him, of all people. It took me a little while to realize it fully, but I suddenly understood him. As haphazard as his path had been for the last ten years, he had never lost sight of what truly mattered. Despite his status and obligations, he had listened to his heart and risked his life to save me, a worthless little shrew who had walked out on him long ago. He could have let that vornskyr maul me to death on Myrkr. He could have left me drifting in my ruined seat when I EV'd out of my Headhunter. He could have disregarded the vision that lead him to Nirauan and let Karrde find my body himself. No one could have really blamed him if he had. That was the breaking point. Luke had been the only person who had ever cared so deeply about me without expecting anything in return. And that's exactly how I had paid him back for a long time: with nothing. There was only so much a soul could give before it finally exhausted itself, and I couldn't allow that to go on any longer. Yes, there were terms and conditions to be worked out, but this had nothing to do with it. I had no right to be immature and cling to my safe retreat of solitude when he had already lost so much, and was still surviving. What I sacrificed was quite insignificant in comparison, but as he always does, Luke reassured me that was not true. I was willing to give up my freedom, he said, my capability to flee when I was too afraid to accept my calling—and I do agree I once considered that my dearest liberty. Jade's Fire wasn't a mere ship to me; it was my true home and the only thing I believed that gave me an identity. Now I am far richer than I've ever been. I've promised to make up for everything I failed to accomplish for him and myself, and only death will make me break that vow. But I digress. Of course, Luke knew something was nagging me that night even before I called him on it. In all my years of service I had rarely found it difficult to express myself, until then. Just sitting next to him, seeing him half-asleep in rumpled trousers with his hair standing on end, made it that much more awkward. It was the first time I'd ever seen him as a normal human being, not worrying about the fate of some imperiled planet, not saving anyone, just a tired ordinary guy trying to get some rest. It rather boggled my mind then that at some point I was going to be intimate enough with him to know every nook and cranny of his habits and foibles, something I had yet to do with anyone, let alone Luke Skywalker. I knew perfectly well that there are letdowns in every union. Leia, Iella, and Mirax enjoyed tormenting me with their minor personal nightmares of their husbands (a bit too enthusiastically, I'll say). Thoughts of unwashed socks dangling from Artoo's storage compartments sprang to mind. But I was well aware I had nothing to fear regarding any question of hygiene or disorganization on Luke's part. In all my experiences with him, especially at the academy, I had come to learn how practical and modest his living conditions were. Growing up poor and subsequently spending several years on the run could do that to a man. I felt relieved knowing he was every bit as spartan as I was, but wasn't too aloof to allow himself a few precious mementos. Passing through our apartment now makes me wistful on occasion. I don't have a single item or trinket that can capture any part of my own past. Besides my old ship I'm disinclined to getting attached to material objects; it's just the bare fact that I know even less about my origins than Luke does that bothers me. If something turned up to reveal the slightest piece of that mystery, I'd certainly want to keep it. That's one of the things I love most about Luke. Becoming a wife has changed me greatly, and that process is still going on, but there are things about me that I'll never get rid of, and we're both happy for it. Luke wasn't looking to tame me (and he knows damn well how that would have worked out anyway). Just as he accepted the dual sides of his father, he accepts the hard and softening parts of me. I will never be afraid of forgetting who I am, of slowly retreating into the complacency of a submissive obligation that takes over the undesirable facets of my being and reshapes me into the "idealistic" vision of my partner. For every adoring gaze and inviting thought we share there is a fiery exchange and occasional trading of invectives. No healthy rapport exists without a strong vent for aggression; anything less makes it a superficial façade. Actually, I think Luke is the more insane of the two of us. The fact that he let Han and Lando throw him a bachelor party is proof enough. It's funny the way relationships change our perceptions. Upon first seeing Luke's criminal file with the Empire and for a long time afterwards I didn't find him very remarkable at all. I took in his face to study him and then scorched it into my memory for hope of revenge, but I didn't appreciate it in any other way. There were and are countless men who are indisputably more alluring than he is, though they are also a great deal more unrealistic. My husband's face has been written by decades of affliction, scarred and lined by time and anguish and injury, but he's earned every last mark and is proud to show them, and he's all the more handsome for it. Distinctiveness through imperfection is truly exquisite. I can tell which of those little lines around his eyes and the creases in his cheeks have come from that boyish grin he still hasn't lost. Seeing the first strands of gray around his temples makes me look forward to when he'll have a distinguished head of silver. Mornings are a pleasure too, on the occasion that I wake up before he does. Just lying there in bed, I turn over to face him and admire the peace that's fallen over his features. For those few moments I'm able to pretend that the past has been erased, and we've had the chance to start over and enjoy our union for the time we should have. I wonder if there was something one of us could have done to find our path sooner, so that we wouldn't have lost so much precious time wallowing in the miseries we stupidly set up for ourselves. But I remind myself that it's pointless to dwell on what's already come and gone, when we have a sprawling new future to look forward to. So I reach over and rouse him with a stroke of my hand, and he smiles sleepily across at me, bidding me a good morning. And right then, it is. When I look into his eyes I can't help but see the sadness lingering there. He's seen and felt so much torment it's been burned into him forever, like a brand. We are two utterly dissimilar people in most every way—I am fiercely ardent where he is composed, distrusting where he is receptive, secretive where he is sincere. The one indisputable factor that brings us together is the pain we've both known, and the strength we've gained from surviving it. Years of hardship and isolation formed a dozen layers of starship hull-plate armor around me that I'm still reluctant to surrender, even to my husband and closest companions. The trials that Luke endured, however, only forged his heart into diamond, indestructible yet pure and infused with light. That he still lets that light shine so brightly is what draws me to him and inspires me to do more than look out for myself now. His fortitude amazes me—in that way he and his sister are very much alike. After all the evil he's witnessed and fought against, all the blood he's had to spill for the sake of others, his faith in the presence of goodness has never wavered. I tease him about it, but he's no idiot; there's a big difference between naiveté and optimism, and he lost that half-ripe outlook years ago. Though his thoughts about the condition of the galaxy are always pragmatic—"It's best to keep a 'look and see' attitude," Leia called it dryly—he tries to focus on the little hopes and joys he can find, even if it's something as simple as me giving him a hug after he finds out a Star Destroyer just fell on top of his academy. (All right, so I'm exaggerating, but I'm trying to make a point here.) It's the only way any of us can keep our sanity. Knowing that no matter where we end up, as long as we can stay together as a family, is what keeps him going. I thought my attitude had gone down the tubes ages ago, but he's pulling me back one day at a time. Our little corner of the universe is still very much screwed up, and it always will be. Leia can talk about peace until she's blue in the face, but there will never truly be any. But I don't hold it against her for trying anymore. There is good in this galaxy, and a little piece of it is waiting for me in the bedroom right now. It's a part of me now. I am complete. And so is this story. Thoughts? -----signature----- Eternal Groveler to rhonderoo, VaderLVR64, Knight_Aragorn, Oba, & the SJRS crew Has a postcard from the Dark Side. "I suspect that most if not all the world's ills could be cured by humour transplants."--Karen Traviss TEMPORARY SET-UP!!!
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EmilieDarklighter Registered: Jan '02	Date Posted: 1/2/04 1:48pm Subject: RE: Completion (Pre-NJO) Mara viggie
	Beautiful! And welcome to the SJRS! -----signature----- Master of Jedi_Emeritus Former Padawan of Gabri_Jade Little sister to Gabri_Jade and LadyPadme 25 Rules for Successful Writing http://boards.theforce.net/fan_fiction_resource/b10304/28400222/p1/?2
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LaYa_ Registered: Jul '03	Date Posted: 1/2/04 1:50pm Subject: RE: Completion (Pre-NJO) Mara viggie
	I'll say it again: It's wonderful!!! Really, you have talent.. There is good in this galaxy, and a little piece of it is waiting for me in the bedroom right now. It's a part of me now. I am complete. Oh so sweet!! -----signature----- The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.
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Ireth_Tasartir Registered: Oct '03	Date Posted: 1/2/04 2:02pm Subject: RE: Completion (Pre-NJO) Mara viggie
	This is great!!!!! Really good... -----signature----- sex kitten
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ThePariah Registered: Jan '03	Date Posted: 1/2/04 2:10pm Subject: RE: Completion (Pre-NJO) Mara viggie - Date Edited: 1/2/04 2:27pm (1 edits total) Edited By: ThePariah
	Gettin' down and jiggy in front of my laptop now... Ooh yeah! I'm so sorry to say I've run out of L/M material for now, but don't cry yet! There's a lot of stuff left on my hard drive that's in pieces, and now that this has worked out so well I may revive them. One LOOOOOONG story I had once been working slavishly on about a year ago was "Forbidden." The bunny for it was actually born before the NJO books came out, so when my idea was plotted out in the real books (in reverse), I chickened out I continued to work on it, doing rewrite after rewrite--it got better and better, but I never worked up the courage to get a beta to help me because I figured it was boring junk no one would want to read. Like I said, I got a bad taste in my mouth when the NJO authors made Mara sick for half the series. That's exactly what I had done--with Luke. Under different circumstances too. There was no Vong involved. My story was about an ex-Imperial scientist who discovered the secret to medically cut a Jedi off from the Force and tested it on Luke decades later--without knowing the ugly consequences that came after. The conflict comes from Luke learning to cope w/o the Force and losing his bond with Mara, then struggling to survive an apparently fatal illness that stems from his alteration. I also focused on a lot of intricate drama in the Solo family on having to deal with losing a member of their family in such a slow, painful, undignified way. Yeah, it's a sobber (but that doesn't mean it ends that way! ) The L/M part comes from how they learn to expand on their relationship in ways besides using the Force--i.e., being a normal couple. What do you think--does this sound lame or not? ?:\| -----signature----- Eternal Groveler to rhonderoo, VaderLVR64, Knight_Aragorn, Oba, & the SJRS crew Has a postcard from the Dark Side. "I suspect that most if not all the world's ills could be cured by humour transplants."--Karen Traviss TEMPORARY SET-UP!!!
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Eowyn_Jade Registered: Jan '03	Date Posted: 1/2/04 2:10pm Subject: RE: Completion (Pre-NJO) Mara viggie
	::resounding applause:: OHH!!....very nice! very nice indeed! Woderfully done! EJ -----signature----- "You guys are like ravenous wolves." -Devin ~ Defying Gravity ~
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RebelMom Title: TFF Secretary Registered: Apr '00	Date Posted: 1/2/04 3:27pm Subject: RE: Completion (Pre-NJO) Mara viggie
	That story idea sounds interesting. Get yourself a beta and get working. Oops, sorry to sound bossy. -----signature----- Short Story: Pressure Point http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/26961243/p1/?7 Jacen Solo and Anakin Skywalker - as it should have been. TFF: Cheryl
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ThePariah Registered: Jan '03	Date Posted: 1/2/04 3:32pm Subject: RE: Completion (Pre-NJO) Mara viggie
	Since I'm getting bit by the impatient bug again and you all want more L/M action, could I post just a little excerpt from that story? Like a bonus? Pretty please? -----signature----- Eternal Groveler to rhonderoo, VaderLVR64, Knight_Aragorn, Oba, & the SJRS crew Has a postcard from the Dark Side. "I suspect that most if not all the world's ills could be cured by humour transplants."--Karen Traviss TEMPORARY SET-UP!!!
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RebelMom Title: TFF Secretary Registered: Apr '00	Date Posted: 1/2/04 6:44pm Subject: RE: Completion (Pre-NJO) Mara viggie
	You're asking L/M shippers if they want to read L/M story excerpts? Post Away! -----signature----- Short Story: Pressure Point http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/26961243/p1/?7 Jacen Solo and Anakin Skywalker - as it should have been. TFF: Cheryl
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JAGSGURL15 Registered: Jul '03	Date Posted: 1/2/04 7:04pm Subject: RE: Completion (Pre-NJO) Mara viggie
	great job... -----signature----- Mush Queen of TKL's LOMIN ALE WRAITHS Living In DE'NILE i <3 JJ REDICK ~&NY YANKEES&~ (((DUKE BLUE DEVILS)))
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obaona Registered: Jun '02	Date Posted: 1/2/04 7:16pm Subject: RE: Completion (Pre-NJO) Mara viggie
	Oh, that was a lovely story! You write Mara very well - even through all her gentle contemplations, you put in these little sparks of fire that are so Mara. Even when she's just musing on things she can be like that, and it's so true. I loved a lot of the lines in here, including the one about her giving Luke a hug when a Star Destroyer falls on his Academy - LOL. This was just great - you are very talented. I enjoyed this muchly. I'll definitely be looking out for anything with you as the author. -----signature----- MS Word is designed by sadists with masochists in mind. - teh atty my recent Atton (KOTOR2) fic: http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/30335989
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ThePariah Registered: Jan '03	Date Posted: 1/2/04 7:25pm Subject: RE: Completion (Pre-NJO) Mara viggie (Plus Bonus L/M Excerpts!***) - Date Edited: 1/2/04 7:32pm (1 edits total) Edited By: ThePariah
	Hell yeah! That's the spirit! Okay, what I'm posting here is only for you to get some bearings on the situation. It sets up the more important part of the excerpt I want to focus on. So just bear with me on this one, okay? (This takes place during the evening of the day Luke has lost his powers, and they've returned from the medcenter.) Two more thorough hands-on exams and several hours later, Luke sat alone in his room after having asked his wife and family to give him some time to himself. By their conclusions, the doctors had pronounced him in near-perfect health, and by now he truly felt as well as they claimed. He had improved rapidly upon waking; the residual soreness and lethargy had long since worn off. The only thing that had lingered behind was the deep depression. He hadn’t felt a loss this wrenching since his dismemberment on Bespin, since Ben Kenobi had left him, since those eight dark months spent searching for Callista… He squeezed his eyes shut against the pang. The Force is something that’s been in me, a part of me, since I was small… I never thought there would be a time when I…when it wouldn’t be part of me. So this is how it had felt for her. That was why she had left. Now Luke had a glaring reason to comprehend her decision, to empathize with her plight. He stared down at his bionic hand. Come to think of it, that’s exactly how he felt. Like another limb had been amputated without a dash of anesthetic, like fate had slapped him in the face and abandoned him out on a cold street at night. His soul bled from a wound he had no way to mend. From how he perceived the world now, he had become blind, deaf, and mute. He seemed smothered in a blanket of lead and thrown into the depths of a bottomless well. What senses ordinary people relied on so preciously were insignificant, insufficient to him now. He would no longer be able to enjoy his wife’s amorous nuances or his sister’s effervescent presence or anyone else at all. The universe itself was closed to him, and he was reeling from the deprivation. Fighting back sudden tears, Luke buried his face in crossed arms and wondered how he was going to endure the next few days. ____________________________________________ The ride back home was as silent as the void that now filled Mara's mind. The emptiness was so overwhelming it was quite futile to attempt breaking it. Though Luke seemed as every bit in control as he'd always been, she couldn't resist the urge to keep her peripheral vision locked on the spot where his hands gripped their airspeeder's steering yolk. He might have relented if she had asked to fly instead, but she hadn't wanted to slight his dignity any further than it had already been demolished. At any rate, the trip was short. A merry chirp greeted them from the kitchenette data terminal—Artoo, blissfully unaware of what had transpired in the past several hours. "Hello yourself," Mara responded mechanically, balling up her jacket and hurling it towards the distant lounger. He tweetled after her, but she left him behind without further comment. A moment later in walked Luke like a dead man, face sullen and eyes glazed, his motions without the slightest indication of true life dwelling beneath the flesh that bound his bones together. Artoo's tone dropped in pitch and grew worrisome; he detached from the terminal and rolled slowly after Luke, softly demanding an explanation from one of them. "Not now, Artoo," Mara warned him. Luke slumped down beside her jacket and stared blankly at the now semi-opaque viewing window. No, not just blankly—she recognized that as his concentration gaze, a halfhearted effort to try to reach out to the city that lay beyond that sheet of transparisteel. It was not denial of his loss, but an expression of grief, of mourning. And to attempt to interrupt that expression right then would have been too much for him to bear. It was best to leave him be for a while and let him purge the worst of his sorrow on his own terms. When he was ready to accept her, she would be there for him. Without a word she slipped away to their bedroom. Only Artoo remained, timid and unsure of what to make of this new situation. In his lengthy existence his programs had run the gamut of human emotions, and this was far from the first time he'd ever seen his master so unhappy. Nevertheless, there was something different about him he had yet to comprehend. Something vital seemed to be missing in his eyes. Humans often remarked about a concept called a soul, a part of existence that transcended the fragile and less efficient tissue of the body. Could that be what Master Luke now lacked? The little droid pulled up close, just shy of nudging him, and beeped a query. The datapad affixed to his chassis scrolled the translation: WHAT IS WRONG, MASTER LUKE? Luke barely acknowledged him with a hair-slight turn of his head. I DO NOT MEAN TO PRY. BUT I MAY OTHERWISE WORRY MY CIRCUITS TO MELTDOWN. Much to his relief, the faintest of smiles touched Luke's lips. "I'm sorry. I tend to forget how much you care at times like this," he murmured. HOW DARE YOU. Luke chuckled wistfully, the laugh quickly fading. Artoo's sensor shifted from an agitated crimson to a more pensive blue. IS THERE ANYTHING I MAY DO TO HELP? "I'm afraid not. Thank you, though. I'd...I'd rather not talk about it right now." He leaned forward on his elbows and clasped both hands behind his neck. Artoo's datapad was no longer in his sight, but after so many years together he could more or less decipher the astromech's binary chatter in considerable detail. It was surprising to know how many nuances lay buried in such simplistic noise. Artoo cheebled unhappily and began to retreat with a whir of his wheels; he was leaving out of respect, but felt slighted by the lack of confidence. Under any other circumstances Luke would not have felt justified to explain himself to a droid, but Artoo was a friend, one of the dearest friends he had the fortune to be blessed with. In any case, it was better coming out of his own mouth now than Threepio's later. "Wait." Artoo halted and swiveled his dome around. "I lost something today. Something very valuable to me. And...I don't know if I'll ever get it back. That's all I can say now." The little droid digested his words in somber silence, then booped as softly as a whisper and rolled away down the darkened hall beyond. Luke wasn't sure how long he remained that way, staring off into the dark after him. The once benign shadows seemed to loom toward him, their inky depths threatening to swallow him whole. Being alone suddenly didn't feel so secure. Reflexively he reached inwards for the warmth and support of his wife, but all he found was a cold hollow where she once resided. With her presence cut off from him, his mind seemed as vast and barren as the wastelands of his homeworld. It was going to take a long time for him to grow accustomed to that vacancy, perhaps even longer than his own marriage. For now, Mara awaited him in the bedroom, and the feel of her arms around him and her soft cheek against his would suffice. She was sitting on their bed still in full attire, not a trace of sleepiness in her face or posture. Her spiritual fatigue, however, was painfully obvious even to his blind senses; the vivid glow had left her eyes. They looked upon each other for a moment until she gestured him forth with a hand, welcoming him into her embrace. Luke climbed up beside her and laid his head in her lap, and closed his eyes when he felt her stroke his hair. "I'm sorry." He craned his neck to look up at her. "For what?" "What else can I say? What else is there to say? I'm sorry." "This isn't your fault, Mara—" "Look, beyond Carlosk, I don't know if there is anyone else to blame. Certainly not Jacen or Anakin. They did their jobs. I should have listened to you last night." "To what end?" he reminded her gently. "Even with a full day's notice, do you really think you could have prevented what happened?" Frustration glazed her eyes. "No," she conceded sullenly, "I suppose not. But you got me off track. I'm just...I can't imagine how this must feel to you. If anyone had to lose their powers, it should have been me. At least I spent the better part of a decade practically cut off from the Force. You've been soaking in it ever since you set foot off that dirtball home of yours." Her summation was a little too precise for his comfort. He brought his head back down to avoid getting a sore neck. "That's true. The Force has been my ally since I was a youth. I may not have used it properly all the time, but it almost always made the difference between victory and defeat in the end. It was my greatest weapon and my greatest defense. When I had no one else to turn to, it was there to help me, to guide and nourish me. It sometimes proved a harsh burden, too, forcing me to suffer the pain of others, the loss of life from the universe, the evil of our enemies. But it also let me feel the love of my family and the joy of my comrades. It let me be a part of you in a way no other husband could ever dream of. "I'm afraid now. Without the Force I feel helpless. Useless. I don't know what I'm going to do." Mara peered down at him, one eyebrow cocked curtly. "Useless without the Force? Are you saying then that Han and Lando and Wedge and every other ordinary hero in the galaxy is also useless?" Luke sat up abruptly with brow furrowed. "No. That's not what—" "Luke, for heaven's sake, you're not useless. You only feel crippled because your wounds are still fresh. Give them some time. Yes, you're at a considerable disadvantage now, and I'm hard pressed to think of a worse time for this to happen, but losing your powers is hardly going to transform you into a blithering idiot." He couldn't help letting out a low chuckle. "Good skies, I hope not." "Well, if you can still find your own backside in the 'fresher tomorrow, I think you'll be all right." Laughing more easily, he flopped onto his back beside her. "Leia once told me I had a remarkable disposition for turning the most excruciating situations into the merely mundane. How do you always manage to take that three steps forward?" "Voss Parck once told me I had the skill of irritating the daylights out of my worst foes. It doesn't take much to turn an insult into a joke." Luke gazed up at her adoringly. "Thank you." "Don't mention it. Listen. Everyone has a weakness that sooner or later gets exposed or exploited. Your weakness is your dependency on the Force. You took much of what I told you to heart these past years, but falling back on the Force was still second nature to you. And I have to admit, as long as you don't abuse your abilities, they can be a valuable ally. You simply need to build up your secondary skills. What usually happens to a person when one of their senses is reduced or taken away?" He let that stew in his brain for a moment. "Sometimes...they compensate for their loss. A blind man might develop highly acute hearing." "Very good. In your case, though, there'll have to be a bit more work on your part. You need to become more receptive to subtleties. Read between the lines. Leave no stone unturned in your opponents' meditation garden." A slow, wry smile began to spread on Luke's face. "And I assume this is where you come in? The Master of All Things Clandestine?" "A fine assumption indeed, my apprentice. And if your wits should ever fail you, I pledge to be your eyes and ears where you have none. But never, under any circumstances, do I want to see you overly dependent on me. Everybody has to walk after they crawl." "Don't worry. I know there will be times when we won't be together." A sudden darkness fell across his features. "That's not going to be very pleasant." "What are you—" She broke off, too keen not to realize his train of thought. Force or no Force, she could still read him like an open book. "Oh. No, that isn't." Luke closed his eyes again and sighed profoundly. The mere thought of not being able to reach out to Mara in a time of peril, to bear the agony of never knowing what had become of her, sickened him beyond capacitance. No longer would he be able to aid her or send her his loving support. If ever they were separated in the near future, she would truly be alone. Mara was more than capable of handling herself in a crisis, but that hardly warranted a perpetual guarantee of safety. And if one thing within him was wholly insuppressible, it was his protective nature toward her. It was the worst possible token anyone could rob of him. "It isn't fair." The childish words tumbled from his lips unbidden. "Not in the least. However, the cosmos are obligated to distribute some rotten deals every now and then. Apparently they seem to like unloading most of those on our poor family more than anyone else. Must be our irresistible charisma." "Mara, love, now you're not helping." "I only tell it like it is. Besides, all my good humor isn't going to bring back your powers." "I only wish." She bent down and kissed him lightly on the forehead, a small gesture of consolation. Instead of letting her go, Luke rose up on one elbow and caught her chin with his bionic hand, drawing her back toward his mouth. Willingly obliging him, she drank deeply of his longing. When they finally parted she whispered, "So?" "So what?" "What becomes of tomorrow?" Luke let his eyes fall until they caught the faint glint of her wedding band nestled snugly on her left hand. "It won't be the same, I know that much. But that's no excuse to throw it all away. We can't let this take away our happiness. At least we still have each other." She cupped his face in her palm. "Good answer, farmboy." -----signature----- Eternal Groveler to rhonderoo, VaderLVR64, Knight_Aragorn, Oba, & the SJRS crew Has a postcard from the Dark Side. "I suspect that most if not all the world's ills could be cured by humour transplants."--Karen Traviss TEMPORARY SET-UP!!!
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ThePariah Registered: Jan '03	Date Posted: 1/2/04 7:47pm Subject: RE: Completion (Pre-NJO) Mara viggie
	And now, the sniffler... The gentle lapping of water against the shore was as soothing as a neck massage. Mara luxuriated in digging her bare toes into the soft, pale sand she now sat on, with Luke's strong arms draped around her shoulders and his warm breath a sweet caress on her cheek. "Luke, you certainly know how to make a practical woman happy." "I'm glad." They were on a tiny island in the middle of Coruscant's Western Sea, sufficiently far enough from either shore to avoid having to look out at the jagged horizon of civilization. Thus it did not require a significant suspension of disbelief in order to maintain the tender mood, despite the fact that the whole environment was a mere artifice. Beneath the sea was a massive floor of pure durasteel that rested atop a subterranean complex of businesses and low-budget residences; the islands that floated across the surface were simply giant clods of sand and lightweight rock buoyed by underwater pressure tanks that could be remotely steered to any point on the water. Both of them knew this. It still failed to spoil the view. Luke had considered taking her on a quick jaunt to Hesperidium, the most lavish resort moon in the Coruscant system and a frequent getaway for his own sister and brother-in-law, but Mara had long since lost her appreciation for high opulence. Neither did she have much use for such material gifts as jewels or exotic weapons. After so many years of bloodshed and espionage, the most satisfying thing was serenity. A quiet day spent alone with her husband was far more precious than anything wealth could provide her with. It was almost perfect. Almost. They'd gone for a swim earlier in the day, engaging in friendly competition with one another like overeager adolescents. As terribly dashing as it appeared on romantic holodramas, an underwater kiss was not a very efficient means of expressing one's love, though it was worth the attempt. By the time the small, blue-white sun had reached its zenith they'd both grown tired of games and went their separate ways to catch a rest. As Luke watched his wife clamber up the shore, however, an idea came to light. Stretching out full on his back, he let himself drift on the calm surface and closed his eyes, calling to mind an old meditation ritual not used since his first years at the Yavin academy. Memories of bygone students, some unfortunately dead, others countless light-years away on covert missions, rose like the warm sulfur bubbles that stirred the Great Temple's underground lake. Luke closed his eyes and breathed in deep, slow waves, trying to achieve as closely as possible a state of harmony without the spiritual catalyst of the Force. Clearing his mind, he began the ponderous journey inward with a faint hope of rekindling his senses. If he could find just the slightest flicker within him... The water rippled softly in his ear and held him afloat as lightly as a cloud. A breeze tingled across his damp face. Distant echoes of air traffic shimmered through the sky. Beyond that, he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. His nostrils flared. He could feel his body tensing as he tried harder and harder, and he knew the meditative state was already unsalvageable. Anger welled up inside him, involuntary bitterness at his own failure and the injustice of it all. Momentarily overwhelmed, Luke drew a deep breath, rolled over, and let himself hang with his face submerged completely. He absently stared down at the sand-covered floor several meters below. At this point in his life, Luke could hold his breath comfortably for a minute and a half; two, if it were absolutely necessary—all without the Force, and provided the conditions were favorable. So he hung there motionless for two minutes, lungs beginning to burn under the strain. But he refused to come up, defiant. So many years ago that it felt like a past lifetime, he'd once been nearly drowned in hand-to-hand combat by an alien barbarian on a "forsaken mudball" called Mimban. The only thing that had saved him was a miraculous connection with the Force as he'd been asphyxiating, in the peaceful moments just prior to death. The very idea was insane, but such was his frustration. Three minutes approached. His pulse thundered in his ears; the pain in his chest was stunning. His vision began to darken at its edges— A hand grabbed him by the shoulder. Startled, Luke jolted upright and gasped for breath. Floating right alongside was Mara with a puzzled look on her face. "Are you all right?" "Yeah," he panted between fervent breaths. A hint of melancholy dampened her trademark wry countenance. "I didn't think the day was going that bad." It took a moment for that to register, and even then he failed to fully smile. Conceding defeat and flushed with embarrassment, he'd followed her back to the shore, where they now sat entwined together in the fading sunlight. It's all right, she'd whispered in his ear. We're not giving up on you. After today we'll make time to work through it. But whenever Luke shut his eyes, the haunting image of cropped malt hair and lanky beauty stared back at him from the darkness of his lids. "Will we be dining here? Or were you planning for us to spend the night lovingly gazing at the stars on empty stomachs?" Luke blinked back to the present. "Oh. Actually, I had something else in mind. We can eat, I mean, but stargazing's not on the agenda. Remember what I asked you to pack in the morning?" "Yes, I'd been wondering about that." Much to her surprise, right after breakfast Luke had requested that she pick out her best evening wear to bring along for some mysterious affair. It wasn't an easy task—apart from her wedding, she hadn't worn anything remotely formal since the Corellian insurrection. The lifestyle of a smuggler, spy, and Jedi were particularly exclusive of opulent amusements; thus she was hard-pressed to locate a decent gown among the throngs of jackets, trousers, and flightsuits that filled her small wardrobe closet. Borrowing from Leia, who was several handspans shorter, was out of the question. Then she recalled a certain package that she had assembled five years earlier, a collection of complimentary items that had been given to her as bridal gifts, all carefully tucked away in a protective case. She had appreciated them deeply, and they were even more beautiful than most of the things she had been privileged to own as Emperor's Hand, but she had been too embarrassed to let herself use any of them until now. After having lived many years by the skin of her teeth and witnessing terrible hardship on more than one occasion, draping herself in finery didn't feel as pleasurable as it used to. But for Luke, she would give the universe—now more than ever. If he wished to see her in a dress, she would wear one well for him. The contents of the case, perched high in a dark corner of her closet, comprised a literal rogues' gallery of adornments that half the Smuggler's Alliance had pitched in to contribute. Mirax Terrik had presented her with a swirling platinum hair ornament and matching armband, supposedly semi-ancient relics of some obscure duchess. Aves came up with a lovely set of Kubaz cut-crystal earrings that shone internally with subdued auroras. Lando, a selection of the finest perfumes his wealth could buy. There were several more from Tendra, Mazzic, and others, but the most spectacular had come from Talon Karrde himself. She could still recall that moment clear as day. It had been the sole time in her life as his closest confidant that she had seen what appeared to be tears in his eyes. You need to start living like a real woman now, he'd told her good-naturedly as he handed her the slim box. It might come in handy someday. Half an hour after dinner, that same box sat in her lap, to be opened for the first time in five years. She knew it was a dress, and she trusted that Karrde had gotten her size right, but she had no idea what it looked like. Men were legendary for their poor taste in women's clothes, but like her husband, Karrde was hardly an ordinary man. Taking a deep breath, Mara slipped the lid off. Only one word made it out her lips at the sight within. "Oh." ____________________________________________ Luke hastened to comb his hair back into place with his fingers after mussing it during dressing. It had already begun to recede from its original boundaries, yet another casualty of age and stress; Mara had suggested he update the cut to keep it looking even. Less hair meant less fuss, though. And she could no longer tease him about his once unruly locks. Satisfied, he strode out of the men's luxury refresher and stopped right at the women's door, giving it a soft knock. "How's it coming, Mara?" Her response came muffled through the thick door. "Don't rush me, farmboy. I'm a little rusty on this. And if you laugh as soon as I set foot out there, your ancestors are gonna feel your pain." Luke chuckled. "I don't think my father deserves any more grief. I'll spare him." Exactly a minute later he heard the door's pneumatic lock unseal. He stepped back to give her room. Nothing in his long years spent traversing the entire galaxy had prepared him for what walked out of that 'fresher. His wife was a vision of staggering beauty. Her fiery hair was swept up softly, restrained only by graceful silver coils. Draped so sensually, yet so innocently, over her lithe body was a floor-length gown of the sheerest and finest Ottegan silk, layers of diaphanous gray floating over her like wisps of cloud, shimmering faintly with infused moonlight. Skimming across her arms like unraveling wings were loose strands of corded silver lace drizzled with droplets of Alderaanian opal. The subdued glow of her garment only accentuated her natural radiance, a luminosity that all her rugged and urban wear could not hope to do justice to. It was an utterly romantic piece that called to mind the gentler days of a forgotten era. Luke could not help but feel a lump in his throat as he gazed upon her. "You're...so beautiful..." Fortunately Mara had the presence of mind not to spoil the moment with her usual cynicism. She simply stepped up to him and let their lips meet in a prolonged kiss. Luke resisted the impulse to wrap his hands around her hair, lest he ruin her artful updo. The ache of being unable to savor every nuance, every shade of her love flowing into him sent a shiver down his spine and brought stinging tears to his shut eyes. He would never get this moment back. "Where are we going?" she purred in his ear. He swallowed his grief and smiled for her. "You'll see." -----signature----- Eternal Groveler to rhonderoo, VaderLVR64, Knight_Aragorn, Oba, & the SJRS crew Has a postcard from the Dark Side. "I suspect that most if not all the world's ills could be cured by humour transplants."--Karen Traviss TEMPORARY SET-UP!!!
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