Here ya go. It's the story... of a lovely lady (doo dee doo)... well, kind of. I wrote this shortly after the publication of _The Last Command_, so it really doesn't take any non-Zahn stuff into account. The tone lies somewhere between tastelessness and poignance, possibly both at once depending on one's certain point of view (as they say). Intro note dates from its initial posting on (pre-split) rass back in '92 or whenever, and can be excised as necessary. (snip)------------ Warning-- the following story is not recommended for readers with a strong sense of propriety, for several different reasons. First of all, it's in Zahn's writing style (ick). Secondly, it involves implied naughty bits. Thirdly, the subject matter took a dive into unexpected territory, and I apologize to anyone whom the thirdly part offends. I also cravenly grovel at Lucas, Zahn, and any of their lawyers who may be on the net. Yes, I wrote this, and I am sorry. I promise to get back to work on the Arcadia novella instead of twiddly writing exercises like this one. Now skip to the next article if you don't want to read the story, okay? "A Jedi Craves Not These Things" by Julie Lim Luke Skywalker parried his opponent's lightsaber again, the green sizzle of photons inches from his throat. As Luke continued his swing downward at her torso, Mara Jade span away with her usual dancer's grace and leapt into the doorway. She landed in a feline crouch and flicked her saber off. "Time," she called. Luke grinned. "Had enough practice for today?" "Time's up, that's all." She slanted her green eyes at him, smiling as the session timer belatedly rang. "Besides, my hair was getting into my eyes. You wouldn't want to win on such petty grounds, would you?" "You're not *that* good yet," Luke said. Deactivating his own saber, he took his shirt from the wrought-stone railing and wiped sweat from his face. "You're learning faster than I did," he conceded, "but then you had years of combat training here. Growing up on Tatooine, I never had to go after anything more dangerous than a womprat. But you haven't beaten me yet." They were on the roof of the Imperial Palace for their weekly bout of saber practice. To the south, the Manarai Mountains were a distant silver haze, moonlit snow beyond the lights of the Imperial City. But though the high mountains might be covered with snow, it was high summer everywhere else. Even at night, the heat was sultry; the exertion of mock combat made it worse. Mara wore only a lightweight halter and leggings, and resented them. Her braid was rapidly unravelling, and she mopped stray strands off her shoulders. "I'll get you next time," she said. Luke pulled his damp shirt back on over his trousers, but did not fasten it. He joined her at the entrance to the building, feeling in his pocket for the passcard. "You just might, if the weather stays like this. Coruscanti summer's rough on a desert farmboy like me." He swiped the card through the door's sensor and groaned in relief as a gust of cool, dry air billowed out from the building. "Ten years off the farm and you still think of yourself that way?" She closed the door firmly behind them, moving slowly while her eyes adjusted to the interior lights. He was already halfway down the corridor to his own apartments. "I'd still be milking vaporators every morning if my uncle never bought Artoo and Threepio. Uncle Owen wasn't going to send me to the Academy, and there was nowhere else to go." "Nowhere on Tatooine, you mean. You've gone a lot of other places since then." She caught up with him at his door. "Next session's same time next week, right?" "Right." He saw her hesitate. "Something on your mind, Mara?" "Just wondering if I could wash up a bit. It's a long trek back to my apartments, and I don't want to be sweaty all the way there." He wiped his own face again, grimacing. "I know what you mean. Sure, come in." * * * In the kitchenette, she wrung out a cloth in cold water and scoured it over her shoulders. After a few attempts, she gave up trying to salvage her tangled braid, and loosened out the entire mass for rebraiding. As she combed it out with her fingers, Mara wrinkled her nose. "What are you drinking?" "Hot cocoa," Luke said, lowering it from his face. It left a half-circle of foam around his mouth, which he partially licked away. "Want some?" She peered into the cup suspiciously, tucking her red-gold hair back over her shoulder. "I thought I recognized the smell. Very poor quality you've got there; the Imperial kitchens should be able to do better than that." "They're not the Imperial kitchens any more," he gently reminded her. Maybe not gently enough. She drew away and sat down on a chaise, her face averted as she began to interlace her hair again. He didn't know what to say to her at such times. Although Mara was no longer in the Emperor's service, she had tried for years to fulfill the Emperor's last command: "You must kill Luke Skywalker." She had won free of that command only through an uncanny trick of fate. Since then, Mara had become Luke's comrade in arms and his student in the way of the Force. But he was never sure whether she had become reconciled to his destruction of the Emperor. Luke had not killed Palpatine, as Mara had originally thought. Without Luke, though, Darth Vader would never have broken away from his past evil, and destroyed the man who had turned him to the Dark Side of the Force. "Mara," he said softly. "I know you were the Emperor's Hand for many years, his trusted aide. But you know now about the cruelty he unleashed across the galaxy, the years of terror and war. I don't understand your devotion to a man you simply carried out orders for." Her head snapped up as she stared at Luke. Incredibly, her green eyes were full of tears. "Is that all you think he meant to me?" As her question began to seep into Luke's mind, along with the emotions boiling out of her with it, he dropped his cocoa onto the counter. Her gaze drifted toward her hands in her lap as she continued to speak. "I don't remember how old I was when he brought me to Coruscant, but I grew up in a private wing of this palace. The Emperor was the closest thing I had to a father, and he taught me everything I know. You should understand this, of all people." Gingerly, he sat beside her. "Because of Vader?" he guessed. "Vader?" She shook her head. "No. You're my teacher now, you see. Picking up my training in the Force where the Emperor left off. And it hasn't been what I've expected." "Palpatine used the Dark Side of the Force." "Not just that." Taking a deep breath, she put one hand on his chest. He could feel her fingers trembling against his skin, and his heartbeat leaping against them. "Mara, what--" She leaned against him, pushing him back against the chaise. Her mouth was soft against his, as soft as her touch sliding down his body. "Mara?" Her voice was unexpectedly soft, too, but her face was wary. "Yes?" "What do you think you're doing?" Although he tried to sound as stern as he could, it was not very effective. She looked down at him, her red-gold hair falling over one shoulder onto his face. "You needn't sound so surprised, Skywalker. Or did you expect me to think you were altruistic enough to teach me without expecting anything in return?" Her hand continued down and found a firm grip. He twitched. "What was I-- stop that, Mara-- supposed to be expecting-- Mara, please--" "Please what? Stop?" He let out his breath in a shuddering gasp. "I didn't think so," she said, and resumed kneading. "Yes, stop," Luke managed to say. She did. "Why do you think I expect anything like this for teaching you?" "The Emperor did." He froze. Slowly, he pulled his way out from under her. When he got his legs free, he sat down on the floor. "I thought you said he was like a father to you." "Yes." He could not quite read her expression-- pain, longing, an aching loneliness, something that was all of that and more. She remained lying on the chaise, her face turned toward him and pillowed on one hand. "He was the only family I had. I would have done anything to make him love me back." "And did you?" He winced at the harshness of his own voice, but she didn't seem to notice. "I did everything he asked of me. But it wasn't enough." Her gaze flicked to him for a moment, then drifted away. "You Jedi are all the same." Carefully, Luke put his hand on her back. It was his right hand, his artificial one, and although the sensations through it were not quite like his real one, he could still feel the heat rising off her skin, smooth over her taut muscles. "Can't you understand how much the Emperor used you? It was bad enough, just knowing he'd exploited your skill with the Force. But this--" She shrugged, her shoulder flexing beneath his hand. "So I needn't expect anything from you, then." "No, I'm saying I don't expect anything from you. Mara, can't you understand?" "No, I don't understand," she suddenly snapped. She sat up in a sudden whirl of motion, her hair flaring out about her. "What do you want from me, Skywalker? If this isn't enough, what is?" He put his face in his hands. From behind them, he said, "Just one question, Mara. How old were you when the Emperor first- -" "It was a regular part of training session, as far back as I remember. You always wanted to know how I had such a close bond with him through the Force. Why?" "Because it's not something a child normally does with her father, or legal guardian. Or anyone. He abused your trust, Mara. And you." When he lifted his face from his hands, his hazel eyes had darkened to jade, echoing hers. He moistened his lips before continuing. "And it's not something a teacher in the ways of the Force should expect of a student, either. I think you should go now. I'll see you for sparring practice next week, but I don't think we should speak of this again." Mara looked dazed. When he stood and held a hand out to her, she did not move, so he helped her up. She swayed on her feet, so that he had to hold her to keep her from falling. "Then--" she whispered, "everything I've ever learned-- everything-- is completely wrong." He managed a dry chuckle as he stroked her neck. "Oh, I wouldn't say everything. But as your instructor, it would be unethical for me to take advantage of you." "Take advantage?" Luke had to remind himself that Palpatine had deliberately distorted her perception of justice and morality. "I'm in a position of authority to you, as far as training goes. It wouldn't be right, and I certainly don't expect or demand it of you." They stood that way for several minutes, the honey-musk scent of her hair rising all around him. After a while, she looked up at him slantwise, her head still on his shoulder. "A pity, isn't it?" "Yes," he admitted, his voice low in his throat. "It is. But- -" He closed his eyes as her hands slid up his back, bringing cool air in their wake beneath his shirt. At the same time, her hips tilted against his, pressing, circling. "Because really," she whispered against his skin, "there're no other Jedi I can train with--" One hand slid down to his belt. "--To relieve you of your burden of honor." Feebly, he protested, "Really, you needn't feel obligated--" "Is your opinion of yourself always this low, Skywalker?" He gave up. "You could at least call me Luke." With a sardonic curl of her tongue, Mara removed the last traces of cocoa from his lips. "Luke."