Whisper Your Weakness

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Luke found himself struggling over the next couple of hours to remember that Mara being here was a bad thing. They had always worked well with each other whenever they happened to be on any sort of mission together. Even on Myrkr, when her antagonism had practically been a living thing, they’d managed to operate smoothly as they’d traversed the Force-blind jungle.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t bring up the idea of him going back to Coruscant at all, as they brought all the vehicles within the confines of the garage and then set up the collapsible poles that activated the electronic barrier around the perimeter of the farm. That task took the most time and Luke fought against the feeling of comfort that being around Mara again brought. He couldn’t afford to get complacent, because he knew the comfortable feelings wouldn’t…couldn’t…last.

They had only barely finished before the skies starting darkening ominously, and sure enough, only minutes after they’d both made it into the house and locked down all the doors and windows, the sandstorm hit with a vengeance. The two of them were sitting quietly at the dining room table, listening to the wind howl and the vicious scratching of the sand against the roof.

“How long will this last?” Mara asked suddenly, her voice surprising Luke after the silence between them had stretched out for a while.

“Hard to say. Some of them only last an hour or two, some of them have been known to last for a full week,” he answered tersely.

“You have enough food and supplies if we get stuck here for a while?”

Luke gave her a sour look. “Well, I have enough food and supplies for one person,” he said nastily.

“Lucky I don’t eat much then,” Mara snapped back, but her tone was still gentler than his and Luke vaguely felt ashamed of his attitude. Not that he was going to let her know that. He still wanted her out of here after this was all over.

“What was the use of those barriers we spent so much time setting up if they don’t even block the storm? It’s still hitting the house,” Mara asked curiously.

“The barriers are blocking about seventy-five per cent of the storm. Believe me, if they weren’t there, the roof would be blowing off right about now. Nothing can completely keep out a Tatooine sandstorm.”

Mara didn’t reply to that and the quiet lingered between them once again. Luke had almost begun to drift into a light doze, his head propped in his hand, as he listened to the storm hitting the house.

“It’s almost beautiful in a way, isn’t it?” Mara said, her voice so soft and low, he wondered for a moment if she really had said something or if he’d just imagined it. He glanced at her questioningly and saw that she was staring out the window at the sand swirling furiously outside.

She looked over at him when he didn’t reply to her comment and Luke guessed that his lack of response triggered a need to explain her words.

“The storm, I mean. It’s nature at its most primal. Covering everything up, smoothing it out. Kind of like starting over. And it sounds almost like music if you close your eyes.”

Luke watched as she did just that, closing her eyes and tilting her head to better hear the sounds of the storm. The serene look on her face was beautiful, mesmerizing, and Luke knew a moment of envy that she could find such tranquility when his own emotions were often so torn. He found himself wishing that he could find peace from such a simple thing and just that thought flittering through his brain was enough to make him fear that she was already getting to him.

“You wouldn’t think that if you’d grown up here. Sandstorms were a nightmare for me. Not only did they keep me from going into Anchorhead to hang out with my friends, they wreaked havoc with all of our machinery. And guess who had to go clean all the tiny grains of sand out of all those moisture vaporators? Me, Uncle Owen’s free laborer, that’s who,” Luke said, and was a little surprised at his own bitterness.

“Hmm,” Mara said noncommittally in reply to his complaint. “It is aggravating not being appreciated for your efforts and hard work, isn’t it?” she mused. She then proceeded to tell Luke a story of one of her instructors under the Emperor who would never give her the credit for any accomplishment she’d made during his teaching.

Luke would not have thought it possible to make an amusing tale out of the training of an assassin, but he found himself smiling as Mara obviously stretched the truth of the battles between herself and the tutor. A tiny chuckle escaped him as she told of an elaborate scheme for revenge that included dying every stitch of clothing the man owned a sickly shade of puce green.

That story led to another and then to another, and before he knew it, Luke found himself sharing a couple of the funnier mishaps he’d been involved with when he first joined the rebellion, when he’d been so green he probably would have matched Instructor Kellion’s dyed clothing.

“It’s nice to hear you laugh,” Mara said softly as she laid a gentle hand on his arm.

Luke stiffened and yanked his arm away, horrified that he’d allowed her to get under his defenses so easily. Oh, yes, she had to go and she had to go as soon as possible. He stood abruptly and scowled down at her.

“It’s late. I’m turning in,” he said shortly, and left the kitchen before she could respond. Grimly, he realized that he’d been reduced to scampering away from her like a womp rat from a bantha, but Luke chose not to think about that for the moment. All that mattered was that he get some distance so that he could get himself together and remember that he wanted her to leave.

He slipped into the small refresher that was beside his bedroom and firmly closed the door. Blast her! Only here one day and she was already wreaking havoc with his emotions. No doubt about it, it was imperative that he get her out of here as soon as this storm passed. Luke desperately hoped it was not going to be one of the longer ones.

Clenching his jaw in self-disgust, Luke opened the small cabinet behind the mirror, reaching in to pull out his bottle of sleeping pills. His frown deepened when he realized that he only had two left, and there was no way for him to refill the scrip with the sandstorm going on. He’d used more of them than he’d meant to over the last couple of months. His first few weeks on Tatooine had been so filled with cleaning out and fixing up the farm, that he’d had neither the time nor the energy to dwell on the demons that had chased him here; but once things had settled down a bit, Luke had had more time than he wanted to think, and to remember.

Well, there was nothing else for it, he was going to have to take one tonight. Luke did not want Mara knowing of the nightmares or she’d just be more determined than ever to offer her ‘help’. Before he could change his mind, Luke quickly popped one of the pills in his mouth and swallowed it dry. Knowing that the medicine took effect fairly rapidly, he stripped off his shirt and boots and headed towards his bedroom.

He climbed into the bed that had once belonged to his aunt and uncle and gave a sigh as he closed his eyes. The pill was already starting to work and he could feel his mind going comfortably blank. His eyes flew back open in astonishment as he felt the other side of the bed give with Mara’s weight. She smirked at him unapologetically as she settled down beside him and pulled the covers up over herself.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked harshly, glaring at her.

“Going to bed, same as you.”

“I don’t recall giving you permission to sleep in here with me,” he snarled.

“I don’t recall asking,” she shot back at him. “But this is the only bed in the house and if you think I’m going to attempt to sleep on that pathetic excuse you have for a sofa, you can just think again, Farmboy! Now, hush and go to sleep, I’m not going to molest you or anything.”

Luke froze in horror at her unthinking choice of words, his face paling as memories of Viktor immediately rushed into his head, but thankfully she didn’t notice as she was turning to lie facing away from him. He lay there for a few minutes more, trying to push away the thoughts of that bastard and everything he’d done. Mara either didn’t realize his distress or was giving him space, as she said nothing further and even seemed to be already asleep. Finally, Luke was able to calm himself enough to allow the sleeping pills to do their task and he fell into an uneasy slumber.

**************************

When he awoke the next morning, Luke was disoriented for a few moments. That was the other thing he really hated about using the sleeping pills. Besides the nagging feeling of lacking control, they always made him feel slightly muzzy-headed first thing the next day.

He lay there on his back with his eyes still closed, unwilling to open them and face the day just yet. Gradually, he became aware of a warmth that was pressing up against his side, and curiously, he turned his head in that direction. The sharp scent of cinnamon filled his nose and Luke’s eyes snapped open in surprise. All he could see was a cloud of red hair, and he remembered instantly that cinnamon was the brand of hair cleanser she’d preferred to use. His whole body stilled, hesitant to wake Mara for fear of what she might say. Or of what he might say, Luke wasn’t certain which possibility was more dangerous.

Luke lifted his head off the pillow and tilted it so that he could see her face. Her cheek was pressed against his shoulder and her hands were holding onto his arm, almost as though she feared that he might have tried to run from her as she slept. He just stared at her for several minutes, fighting to push down all the conflicting feelings lying so intimately with her brought on.

Before he realized what he was doing, he’d lifted his hand and trailed his fingers lightly down the side of her face. When she mumbled something in her sleep and shifted even closer to him, Luke caught what he was doing and jerked his hand away, dropping his head back onto the pillow with a sigh of disgust.

He was amazed that she hadn’t awakened, as he recalled her always having been a very light sleeper. And that thought was leading him right back to a place that he definitely did not want to go. With another small groan at his apparent lack of backbone, Luke carefully disengaged his arm from her hands and slipped out of the bed to head for the ‘fresher.

Bracing his hands on the edges of the sink, Luke let his head fall until his chin almost touched his chest. After a few moments, he managed to raise his head and meet the weary gaze of his own reflection. He almost didn’t recognize himself. Bitterly, he wondered how Mara had even recognized him, his appearance was so different from the man she’d fallen in love with.

Leia had told him that his captivity had lasted a total of thirty-nine days. Thirty-nine days. Not so long, really. A blink in the average lifespan of a human being. Sad then, that his life was now so sharply divided into before those thirty-nine days and after.

Staring at himself in the ‘fresher mirror, Luke tried to fight down the feeling of contempt at his own cowardice. The one insult that Viktor had ever flung at him that had truly offended Luke and it was nothing more than the truth, he thought bitterly. It was the fact that Mara was right about all the horrible things she’d said to him that hurt so damn much. That didn’t mean he was going to admit to her that she was right. No, Luke still much preferred to live in his safe little world of denial, where he didn’t have to worry about remembering what Viktor had done to him.

The sound of the ‘fresher door opening had him jerking his head around in surprise. Mara shuffled into the small room, giving an exaggerated yawn as she did so.

“Are you done brooding yet? Because I’d really like to take a shower. Hey, do these sonic things work as well as water? I can’t believe you never had a water shower until after you left this planet,” she said.

Luke gaped at her temerity. “The door was closed, in case you didn’t notice,” he said sharply.

She gave him a sarcastically beaming smile. “Yes, I did notice that right before I opened it. So, seriously, are you done being all moody for the moment? Because, as I just said…me…needing a shower?”

When he simply continued to glare at her, Mara gave a shrug and started to pull her sleep shirt over her head. Luke made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a squeak.

“Mara, what are you doing? I’m in here, you can’t just get undressed in front of me.”

“It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before, Farmboy,” she purred at him, and then the sleep shirt was off and flying towards his face.

With an irritated growl, Luke yanked it away and fled the ‘fresher before she could torment him any further. He stalked into the kitchen and threw together a simple breakfast, the whole time worrying about how he was going to deal with Mara Jade if she decided to start playing that kind of game. He would just have to make sure his defenses were firmly in place, he declared to himself silently. He would become made of ice, so cold and hard that she’d never be able to break through.

Luke was prepared to settle in for an all-out war on his defenses, but when Mara emerged from the ‘fresher, she was acting in the same friendly, non-threatening manner that she had been the day before. Luke was thrown off-balance, and then wondered if that was her ploy, to confuse him so much that he’d give in to whatever she wanted. He didn’t know how the fact that she hadn’t asked anything of him played into his theory, but he was still wary of her.

Mara acted as though she didn’t notice his suspicion and surly behavior. They had lunch, as they’d slept past breakfast, did a few simple chores around the house because neither of them were very good at sitting around with nothing to do, and then they had a quiet dinner. She produced a set of sabacc cards from somewhere and somehow talked him into playing a few hands, even though it wasn’t his game at all. Han had tried for years, without success, to teach Luke the subtleties of the game and the Jedi had never gotten any better at it.

They were using Luke’s stash of tangaroot-flavored hard candies as the sabacc pot. He fondly remembered his Aunt Beru doling them out as special treats when he was a child. When he’d found that they were still sold in Anchorhead, he’d been unable to resist stocking up on them and had become as addicted to them again as he’d once been in his youth. Mara had laughed when he’d told her that, and then had merely laughed harder when Luke glared at her for daring to do so.

After several hands, Mara’s pile of candies was growing larger while Luke’s was growing ever smaller. It was almost to the point where he would have nothing left to wager with. He gave her an accusing stare.

“Are you cheating?”

“I am extremely offended that you would even stoop to ask that question, Skywalker. How dare you?” she said blithely as she raked yet another group of tangaroots towards her pile.

“Well, it’s just that you’ve managed a perfect twenty-three four times now. Even I know that’s a little, shall we say, lucky?”

“Can I help it if I’ve got skills?” she said and winked at him.

Luke sighed in mild disgust, but continued to play. It was better than sitting around doing nothing at any rate. The thought that he might have been a little lonely in the last six months wriggled its way into his consciousness, but Luke stubbornly ignored it, hoping it would go away.

Sure enough, two hands later, Luke watched as Mara gleefully scraped the last of his candies into her pile. He shook his head in amusement as she gave him a leer and a playful cackle.

“Well, I guess that’s it for sabacc,” he said.

“Not necessarily.”

“I’ve got nothing left to wager, Mara. I’m not going to use real credits,” he said with a frown.

He glanced down at the empty space on the table in front of him just to double check that he hadn’t missed a sweet or two. When Luke looked up again, Mara had somehow managed to slip around the table until she was right beside him, a little too close for his comfort, actually. He froze as the smell of cinnamon once again washed over him, making him yearn for things he knew he shouldn’t want.

“Mara…um…you…” he stammered, seemingly unable to come up with one coherent thought.

“Sometimes an understanding player will allow an opponent to ante up with something other than credits or candies. Something a little more intangible perhaps,” Mara whispered and her face was so close to his now.

He could almost feel the heat of her skin, and as she spoke softly, a tiny breath of air from her mouth gusted over his cheek. Shivers radiated out from Luke’s belly, tingling all the way out to his fingertips and he was barely able to restrain a gasp.

“Like what?” he asked, feeling as though the words were pulled from him. He hadn’t meant to say anything to her. He was going to made of ice, resist her and the games she was trying to play. But Luke Skywalker had never, in all the time he’d known her, been able to completely resist Mara Jade, especially when she had her mind truly set on something.

“Oh, perhaps something as simple as…” she said so softly, and her lips were so close now to his own. “…a kiss?”

Luke’s chest began to ache, reminding him that he probably needed to breathe at some point. He knew what he should say in reply to her request, but it didn’t match up to what he suddenly desperately wanted to say.

“I…uh…I don’t think…” he stammered. His eyes drifted closed, and he breathed in the scent that was Mara; a mixture of cinnamon and some dusky flowery perfume and just her.

“You’re thinking too much. C’mon, Jedi, work with me here,” she encouraged breathily and leaned in to touch her lips tenderly to his.

“This is always my favorite part, Jedi. I’ll admit, it will be different, you being a man and all, but I think we can make it work, don’t you?”

Luke gasped in shock and his eyes flew open wide as the harsh words that Viktor had hissed in his ear right before he’d ripped Luke’s world apart came flooding back into his mind. He scrambled madly backwards away from her, knocking into the table and sending the sabacc cards and tangaroot candies flying everywhere.

“No! I can’t! I can’t!” he cried out, before leaping to his feet and fleeing to the safety of the ‘fresher, locking the door behind him this time.