The Long Road Home, part two
Mara sat on her bunk two days later, pulling on her utility boots and wondering how on earth she had gotten into this miserable situation. After the first night he spent on the flight deck, Luke had not emerged from his cabin--not for food, for exercise, and certainly not for her company. While she was not exactly insane about the idea of spending every waking moment in his presence, she thought she would at least have something besides a droid and her own thoughts to talk to. Several times she had stretched out tentative Force tendrils, only to have a wall slammed down on them before she got anywhere near to contact. On the second day of his self-imposed isolation she gave up trying and decided he could rot first in his cabin, and then on Coruscant, for all she cared. She would only come out of orbit long enough to drop him at the palace, and then she would put as much distance between herself and the celebration as possible. Let him spend the rest of his life mourning a woman who had technically been dead for decades. It was his choice.
"Yes, it is!"
Stunned, she jerked her head up to see Luke, standing in the open doorway, eyes afire with anger.
"How did you get in here, Skywalker?" she demanded.
He ignored her question, brushing it aside with an irritable slash of his hand through the charged air. "You have spent far too much time with Leia, I think. Something all the women in my life must accept is that I cannot and will not let Callista go. I don't care whose body she inhabits. I don't care if she can touch the Force. And it doesn't matter if she is here physically, she is always, always here!" he thumped himself roughly on the chest. Mara swallowed hard, looking up at him in disbelief. "No one, Callista included, can believe that. So I am apparently destined to be alone. Fine. I have accepted that as a part of my life. Apparently it is the fate of the male Jedi to live a solitary life. Obi-Wan, Yoda. It is only the other people in my life that cannot accept it. What I feel for her goes far beyond love. She is the other half of my soul. And if I have to wander the galaxy for decades, alone, waiting for her to regain herself and return to me, then so be it!" he thundered at her.
Unexpectedly her eyes were flooding with tears. For herself, the way he was screaming at her? Perhaps. For him, for the life he had resigned himself to? Maybe. But it served one purpose: his anger was gone as quickly as it had arisen, and regret dawned in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Mara," he whispered. "This is why I severed the bond with Leia. No one should have to share this."
He turned quickly and walked out, letting the door close behind him. Mara sat back against the wall, not bothering to wipe the few tears that escaped from her eyes, and stared at the spot where he had just been. His words rang in her ears as she slowly sank to the mattress, curled up to defend herself against any further verbal onslaught, should he come back. Silently she cursed the light-years that still lay between their current position and Coruscant, and eventually she fell asleep.
Luke spent the night in the cockpit of the ship, staring restlessly out at the starlines. *What is wrong with me?* He had been much better at controlling himself in the past. He had accepted this...hadn't he? He dragged a hand through hair that was badly in need of a trim, and wondered when the last time he had actually thought of his appearance had been. Why was he suddenly so angry at everyone? He thought back to that day on Nam Chorios, reliving it in his head for the thousandth time.
A figure had come rappelling over the wall and he had watched it climb down the rope to the ground. When it had brought up a hand to release the veils that covered its face, he had known, immediately, instinctively, that it was Callista. The hair he had only completely seen in visions had blown around her head as they stood, motionless, on opposite sides of the compound. He could feel her begging him, silently, not to move. Every cell in his body screamed against this, but somehow he obeyed. Somehow, he found the strength to raise a hand in farewell, instead of hurtling his body across the space that separated them and gathering her into his arms, instead of somehow finding a way to keep her and allow her to find herself at the same time. 'I understand,' he had said silently to her plea. And then, once again, he had watched her walk out of his life. Watched her turn away and walk up the gangplank into the ship that would take her away from him, perhaps forever. And he had done nothing to stop her. Nothing.
The anger he had grown comfortable with over the last months again settled over him. 'Anger can be but a symptom,' he remembered hearing somewhere...Ben, perhaps, or Yoda. 'A way of cloaking feelings too awful to experience directly.' So what was it he was avoiding? Who was the anger directed towards? Himself, for retreating into his lonely past, being considerate of everyone's feelings at the expense of his own happiness? Callista, for choosing her endless, fruitless quest over the joy they had found together, bringing a winter to his life more bleak and deadly then the one he had survived on Hoth? Leia, for insisting that he rejoin the world of the living, for persisting in her incessant contacting of him, urging him to move on? Mara, for getting under his skin and intruding on his private sorrow? Or was the anger truly, as he had been told, just a symptom? And if it was, what did it tell him?
Luke stood and walked to the dining console, calling up a cup of hot chocolate which he carried to the table. For years he had accepted that he would be alone as he watched one woman after another walk out of his life, usually choosing duty over him. He would do the same in most instances, wouldn't he? Nothing was more important than the Jedi Academy, than rebuilding the lost race to make the New Republic a safer place. Right? His thoughts wandered to the Academy, and the growing realization that it functioned just as well when he was gone as it did when he was there. Well, that was what he had wanted, wasn't it? He had never been completely comfortable with the teaching role and had been only too pleased when several students progressed to the point that they could take over that role from him. So what was he needed for on Yavin? To be the role model, the great Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, the paragon of virtue, the example to follow? The Jedi Knights were changing and evolving with the years, regaining their strength and position. It is what he had fought, labored, and struggled for. He was a part of it, yes, but no longer the center. He was not alone any longer...not in that sense. It left him in the uncomfortable position of not really being needed on his own planet. And if the Academy didn't need him, what was he to do?
He snorted to himself. The ex-Commander Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight and Master, was no longer needed. His responsibility to the galaxy, it would seem, was over. Oh, Leia could find countless positions for him, lists of duties; he could return to the Academy and continue to teach despite the fact that others there were more than capable. But he slowly realized that he wasn't needed to do those things. For the first time in years, he was truly free of obligation--and he didn't know how appealing that idea was. Freed from the constraints that had bound him to a routine life, what would happen to him? What was to stop him from jumping into his X-wing and taking off for parts unknown? Why, there were several vacation planets he had been meaning to visit for years--perhaps Han could get a few weeks away and they would take the Falcon and--
Luke shook his head sharply. What had gotten into him? He had lived the life of the Jedi Master for so long it was impossible to tell where the Force left off and Luke began. And perhaps, he thought, that was the problem. He was so ingrained in the Force that Callista was unable to remain with him. It was too painful for her; too much of a reminder of what she had lost--and if she needed to touch the Dark Side to find her way back to the Light, it was all the better that he was not there, for his battles against the Dark had been many and painful. Would she find her way back to him? Probably not. Would he survive it? Liegeus had said that the human capacity for loving was too great for a single loss to blight. Callista's future lay down a different road than his--whether those roads would eventually merge together someday was impossible to foretell. He knew that she was safe, and strong, and as happy as she could be without half of herself. She could no more give up her quest than Luke could give up the Force to be with her. It was something he was going to have to accept, or life would eventually become unbearable.
Somehow, somewhere, over the years, he had managed to retain part of the Tatooine farmboy deep within him. It was a part of him he had lost over the last few months, a part he needed to find again. A good place to start would be with humility: he owed someone an apology. Resolutely he stood and walked towards Mara's cabin. No answer was forthcoming at his knock, and he was loathe to open the door through the Force. "Mara?" he called softly. "Mara, open the door, please."
To his surprise the door slid open almost immediately and he was
confronted with the sight of her, face pale and eyes red, hair in disarray. She
looked...*awful,* he thought.
"Come on, Mara, I've been missing lightsaber practice lately. You always enjoy trying to kill me."
The silent apology was offered. Mara stepped through the door past him, hand already drawing her weapon, and accepted it.
***********************************************
The next two days passed without incident. Mara and Luke spent most of their time circling each other, neither eager to have a repeat of the emotional clashes that had cluttered their first few days in hyperspace. Apart from the daily lightsaber practice, which Luke always won--though Mara gave him quite a run for his money--each spent a good deal of the day in their respective cabins. When they did emerge, they spent most of their time good-naturedly arguing over meals or battling for control of the holovid player. Luke would sit for hours in a corner and listen to Artoo's chatter, something that baffled Mara. Better silence than talking to a droid, any day. Their last day in space dawned the same as the others; Luke was nursing a cup of hot chocolate at the dining table when Mara sauntered in with her saber in hand.
"You're a little early, aren't you?" he grumped into his drink.
She favored him with a withering look and gestured to the floor behind her. "You always have the advantage of being awake--do you think an opponent is going to wait for you to be well-rested? On your feet, already." Lazily she began to spin her blade around in midair. "Boy, are you slow."
Luke's eyes narrowed as he pushed back from the table and got to his feet. "You know, Mara, sometimes you can really--"
Without warning her blade was ignited and swinging down towards his head. Reflexively his saber leapt from his belt to his hand, igniting in mid- flight, to effortlessly meet and block her blow. "You have to get up a lot earlier to fool me like that." He parried her next swing and brought his blade up sideways to meet hers again, and the battle was on.
Artoo whistled from the corner incessantly as they drove each other across the floor, blades crashing into one another. Mara's stride was sure and even as she fought against him; she had been growing more confident every day though she had not beaten him yet. A long side stroke from Luke almost disarmed her, but she spun out of the way in time and jumped behind a desk. He released the desire to cut through the piece of furniture and swung at her several times, chasing her back out into the open. They continued this way for nearly half an hour, each pushing the other's limits, back and forth across the room. The air was charged with energy and the Force was strong around them as each sought to better the other.
Unexpectedly though, Luke caught his leg on the back of the table and, with a look of surprise, went down on his back, lightsaber flying out of his hand with a clatter. Mara's face began to light up with glee--until he deftly grabbed hold of her ankle and, yanking hard, brought her down on top of him. She landed like a dead weight on his chest, momentarily knocking the wind out of him, disbelief painted across her face that he would take her victory so poorly. ::Victory? I had to trip for you to beat me!:: he laughed in her mind. Her temper flared and, left with no other route of revenge, she moved her hands swiftly to his stomach...and tickled. Luke jumped reflexively, trying to dodge her fingers, laughing. "So, the all-powerful Jedi master is human after all," she chortled, relentless in her attack. Laughter was rolling off Luke in waves as he caught her wrists in one hand and flipped them both over, pinning her down beneath him on the floor--and then it died abruptly on his lips as he looked down into her face.
Mara's eyes went suddenly hazy, dusky clouds overshadowing the brilliant emerald, her lashes heavy on her cheeks as her eyes met his. He was completely aware of the length of her body pressed against his, her thighs against his thighs, her hair spilling over the floor and brushing his hand where it held hers high above her head. Her breasts were pushed high into his chest, but surprisingly enough, he fixated on her heartbeat, pounding in her ribcage under him. He swallowed loudly, lips suddenly dry, as the color first drained from Mara's face, then swelled back into it, flushing her cheeks scarlet. Several seconds passed as they stared at each other, unable to move.
A series of beeps from Artoo startled Luke out of his reverie, and he scrambled up from the floor to the cockpit, leaving Mara to collect herself in peace. "We're, uh, we're coming up on Coruscant," he stammered. *Get a grip on yourself!* he snapped silently to himself. Aloud, he said, "I'll transmit the clearance codes to the landing crews." Nothing but silence greeted him, and finally he drew the courage to look over his shoulder to see Mara with her back to him, staring out the side port. *Thank the Force we're here,* he breathed. *But nothing would have happened. Everything is under control.* He eased forward the instrument that dropped them out of hyperspace into orbit around the capital planet.
"Coruscant Control," he said into the comm unit, "This is Jedi Master Skywalker aboard the 'Jade's Fire'. Request permission to land."
