Invictus
By: Ria
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I promise to play nicely with them,
and put them back unharmed when I'm done.
Notes: Takes place during Chapter 21 of Star by Star. If you
haven't read it, this won't make much sense.

***

In the fell clutch of circumstance,
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance,
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

From Invictus, by William Ernest Henley

***

She turned in the dark, still half-asleep, reaching for the warm
bodies lying next to her. A wave of panic rose inside her as her
hand met the empty bed, but before it was half formed, relief
flooded her as she sensed them both. They were safe and close by--a
cloaked, sorrowful mind, as much hers as his, and near it, the
lighter, achingly innocent presence of their infant son.

Climbing out of bed, she wrapped the blanket around herself and went
to find them. They were in the next bedroom, Ben in his sleeping
basket, and Luke sitting beside it, his head in his hands. She
knelt behind him, putting her arms around his shoulders, and echoing
the gesture in his mind, half-caressing, half-questioning. His mind
reached back to her, lowering its barriers to allow her to feel what
he had felt-pain and suffering, interspersed with spikes of
unbearable anguish.

"They're still at it, then." She said it aloud, needing to hear the
words.

"Yes," he replied. "They took a little break, but now it's getting
worse. I can feel them getting weaker." He paused, and turned to
look at her. "Mara...if this doesn't work..."

He stopped speaking, but she felt the cold, dark weight of despair
pressing on them both. "Luke, they volunteered. They practically
demanded to be allowed to go...."

He interrupted her before she could go on. "I know, I know. But that
doesn't make it easier for me to sit here and feel what they are
going through."

"And you want nothing more than to tear out of here and go to their
rescue."

She twisted her lips into something resembling a smile as he tilted
his head up to meet her gaze, acknowledging her words.

Inactivity in the fact of danger was inimical to both of them; it
ran counter to years of training and hard-won experience. The
stress of holding back the desire to dash in and fix things was
tearing her heart-their hearts-in two. Seventeen young Jedi
Knights, their students, their friends, their niece and nephews, had
willingly delivered themselves into the hands of the enemy. To
chase after them now would mean the end of the mission, and the loss
of innumerable lives, so their Masters sat quietly in the dark,
suffering along with them, and hoping against hope that they would
survive.

Mara caught herself remembering the innumerable times that the two
of them had gone into battle together, lightsabers blazing, and
shook her head. "It's a strange feeling, isn't it," she said, "for
us to be sitting here, with all of them out there risking their
lives on a mission most would call foolhardy. Just yesterday, it
seems, they were children, and we were in their shoes."

"That's exactly it," he replied. "I don't feel old enough to have
nephews and nieces out there fighting in my place. And don't remind
me that both of us had faced death by that age-we were supposed to
make things better, so that they wouldn't have to go through the
things we did. "

She felt him shudder as yet another wave of pain reached him. They
had all known, intellectually, what would face the young Knights in
the time between their surrender and the moment in which they would
(hopefully) overcome their captors, but neither Luke nor Mara had
been prepared for the strength of the emotions they were feeling
from the strike team. The fact that they could sense them at all
was an indicator of the gravity of the situation.

Mara put up a mental barrier around Ben so that he would not share
what his parents were feeling and stretched out her mind toward the
source of the disturbance. At this distance she could not
distinguish one mind from another. She tried to pick out the
signature of Jaina, her niece and apprentice, but all she was able
to ascertain was that they were all still alive. One life force felt
close to extinction-which one, she could not tell.

<Do you think they can feel us?> She asked Luke through their mental
bond.

<I don't know. I doubt it, though.> He was slumped over in his
chair, his mind clouded and unfocussed. <How am I to forgive myself
if they die at the hands of torturers?>

How indeed? She had no answer for that, and she knew he did not
expect one. If the destiny of those seventeen young souls was
martyrdom, there was nothing either of them could do to stop it.

The only thing they really could do, in fact, was wait.

Unless.... She and Luke could sense the collective anguish of their
young students. Maybe, just maybe, an equivalent amount of emotion
would reach them. It was worth trying, in any case.

She reached out to Luke's mind again, showing him what she meant to
do. He quickly understood and joined his mind to hers. A thought,
an image, really, started to form in her mind, and almost before it
she had visualized it, he was reaching out across the base. Mara
felt other minds join theirs-a mother awake and despairing at the
plight of her children, a friend keeping watch throughout a hopeless
night, a teacher, a healer, a classmate, and even, at the very edge
of her awareness, the touch of an infant-and nearly broke down at
the overwhelming strength of their combined senses. Together they
sent thoughts of light, love and encouragement across the galaxy,
trusting that they would reach their intended goal.

At that moment, seventeen Jedi Knights felt renewed determination
and hope. One, the nearest to death among them, found the strength
within her to stand and fight.

***

Feedback is always appreciated at <gnirreher@y...>. See
http://www.bartleby.com/103/7.html for the full text of the poem.
Many thanks to Jae and Luna for hand-holding and critique.