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Flower
by Devi

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Theme: Mara's POV as she watches Luke while he is still unconscious,
right after he has been rescued/captured by Karrde (in Heir to The
Empire).

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars, I'm just a fan having fun. This is not for money. No infringement intended.

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He will not wake now. Karrde has drugged him up with enough of a dose to knock out a Bantha; he must be quite afraid of this Jedi.

Not that his Jedi powers will help him here; he won’t even be able to feel the Force with all the Ysalamiri around. Of course they affect me as well. But I’ve learned to get along without the Force; I just had to, so much of my power was lost when my Emperor died.

When he killed him, that is. And now he’s lying here, not stirring, hardly breathing, yet not as dead as I’d like him to be.

My blaster rests on my lap. My hand rests on my blaster. It would be easy to set it from “stun” to “kill”. It would be easy to say that I did so by mistake. It would be easy to say he tried to escape.

No. Not yet. I want him to wake one more time, I want him to see my face before he dies. I want him to know who killed him.

I know who killed my life. I want him to know that I know.

Is this what I want? One last look from frightened blue eyes when he will know who I am, when he’ll know what I’m gonna do? Would it quieten my heart? Could it ever satisfy me?

Why didn’t I leave him out there in space, leave him to die out there in the cold, cold void. My heart has been a cold void for five long years, ever since my Emperor died.

Five long years… yet I brought him in. It was me who found him. How could I find him? What guided me? What silent call did I hear from him over such a distance? Once I heard my Emperor’s call wherever I went; I was a part of him, his Hand. Why did I hear *his* call now, the call he didn’t even utter; what formed the chain that linked me to him? He does not even know my name. Yet he has been my constant companion for five long years. I have only hate for him, yet he is closer to me than any lover could be. Close as my own blood, as my own heartbeat. My first thought at waking, my last thought at night.

The one who is under my skin. Luke Skywalker. Did he walk in from the sky, like an angel of death? Does not the color of sky still cling to his eyes? His eyes are closed now. He’s lying so still, his face so smooth; he looks so fragile… when I kill him, won’t it be like crushing a flower? Does not a crushed flower give the sweetest scent; sweet yet quickly turning to foul? Is this the aroma I want, sweet crushed flower; the scent of fright from wide blue eyes before I crush this boy?

I want to kill him, yet I watch him, watch him dutifully, don’t even begin to feel tired or bored. Karrde wouldn’t have needed to tell me to watch him, watch his Jedi captive, why is he so afraid of him? Why am I?

“When he tries to make any trouble, you stun him again,” he said. I will do it; maybe I will forget that my blaster is still set to “kill”, it would be so easy.

But it would feel wrong to kill a sleeping flower, to crush such a fragile thing. Sweet scent turning to foul and bitter.

Is compassion treason?

What cruel irony of nature, to clothe my enemy in this fair-haired beauty! Sweet sweet deadly flower; so handsome, I wonder how many Rebel Alliance women are getting off on his picture each night. How dare he be like this, so hard to hate; I hate him so much just for that.

So handsome, yet a killer; what deception. He took my live when he killed my Emperor, I hate him, I hate him. I hate him because he has to be all that I live for, thinking of him with every breath I take. I am the woman who will kill Luke Skywalker; that is my identity, the only one that is left to me since he took away everything else.

“When he tries to make any trouble…” – a redundant instruction, he will not wake now. Yet I watch him, why do I do it, why do I have to torture myself like this? What do I think I will get from the sight of this still still face, why do I have to watch him; will it answer my questions, can he answer them even when he wakes?

So still, he lies; I see his throat move with his breathing; what a lovely neck, my hands would fit around it well…

But Karrde wants to keep him alive; does not even want him to suffer, it seems; has placed him on a nice bed, not too hard, not too soft; such consideration. And isn’t it befitting to give a condemned man some comfort before his death? His death, which I will bring. But I can’t do it yet. Karrde wants him alive, I will follow his word. Not that I owe him after so much hard work. But I’ve always been loyal, my Emperor could confirm it.

My Emperor is dead; and I am sitting here, waiting for my enemy to wake, waiting to tell him what he has done. Waiting for my little chance to once more be the Emperor’s Hand, once more his sword of justice; but it will never be the same. My live is shards and splinters; five long years, I worked so hard; five long years struggling to be someone, something again; five long years in the cold in the dark all by myself all alone I’ve always been alone.

Should have left him out there in the cold, dark, merciless void; should have left him so that he would have felt what it’s like for me, all alone in the cold in the dark that is my life. So what if it would have been petty revenge!

Yet I told Karrde when I found him, yet I let him bring him here; yet I have seen his face. This tender white skin, is he not a farm boy, should he not be tanned from the suns? Yet he is like this, fragile fragile flower, soon to be crushed; am I allowed to feel sorry for him? He does not move, only his throat stirs with breathing. How is it that this sight stirs my heart? What is it that I feel? I don’t want this. I want my live back. That is all that I want, all that I will never have.

I hate him so much, so much; and yet… What is it that I feel? Maybe I’ll understand it in that one last moment before I kill him; maybe I’ll understand it with that one last look from wide blue eyes.

But not now. He will not wake now.

~FIN~