Fic: So we'll go no more a roving (Star Wars)
Title: So we’ll go no more a roving
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: PG
Words: 2,588
Setting: Post-Sacrifice
Summary: Three men who loved Mara Jade reflect on her death.
A/N: The poem featured is by Lord Byron
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So we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.
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Lando hadn’t intended to fall in love with Mara Jade.
In the beginning she was simply a challenge, another beautiful woman to chase - and the more she resisted him, the more dogged his pursuit became. He quickly convinced himself that he loved her, that if he could actually catch and keep her, he would be finally caught himself. The more time he spent with her, however, the sooner he came to realise that Mara Jade would not be that woman for him. His contest for her affections became a running joke between them as they both understood they were not genuine, but instead was Lando’s way of showing his affection for her. As for Mara, she tolerated his advances, and eventually, he liked to think, enjoyed them, although she would never have admitted it. He had loved her, just not in the way he had first thought. Instead he had considered her a close friend - probably the only true female friend he had aside from Leia.
It was all Lando could think on as he mutely watched the news of Mara’s death broadcast across the holonet. There were endless tributes and interviews from people who had probably only met her once, to make up for the silence on behalf of her family who had so far avoided the media. Lando himself had been contacted for a statement, but for perhaps the first time in his life, he had no desire to talk. He recognised that anyone who actually knew Mara would not say a word to the press.
Tendra made him a drink and enfolded him in her arms, offering whispered sorrows and comfort. “I talked to Leia,” she told him softly.
“Thank you,” Lando answered, taking her hand a squeezing it tightly. He wanted to speak to them himself of course, but didn’t feel like he was in a place to offer condolences. Tendra must have realised that. Eventually, he would speak to Luke, although he knew it may not happen for months, perhaps even years, until they were both ready to talk about her out loud. Luke had been his friend for longer, but Lando felt that Mara had always understood him better. They shared the same business brain, although they geared it in very different directions. The one time they had tried to run a business together it had been a disaster - in professional terms at least. He still thought fondly of the hours they had spent together, getting drunk and committing their alcohol-fuelled ideas to flimsiplast, and then trying to make sense of them at a later stage. His wife now filled that role of business partner, and while she was a much better fit for it, Lando sometimes missed Mara’s straightforward style. She had never tried to spare his feelings, in fact had done her best to cut him down whenever she got the chance. He never thought he would miss that, but life - or the Force - was funny that way.
“You know, I once gave up the Falcon to try and impress her,” Lando said, and managed to smile.
“Oh, Lando,” Tendra’s tone was not quite patronising. She rarely let him get away with self-indulgent behaviour either. “I think that was just a convenient excuse.”
“Maybe.” He’d believed it at the time, though. He’d always been a romantic that way, even to women like Mara who were not impressed by romance. But she’d been a gambler, as he was - that was one thing they shared. She had always bet big on the Sabacc table - making the most of the hand dealt to her; and the worse her hand, the harder she bluffed. He wondered if that was what had gotten her in the end - all in with the determination, but not the strength to back it up.
Not a bad way to go, Lando considered. Unlucky, perhaps, when the game turned on you without warning. But you had to keep playing, and when the best opponents left the table, you respected their skill by fighting all the harder. That, he considered, was the least he could do for her.
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For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul outwears the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.
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Karrde had always been careful never to become a father figure to any of the people under his command, because he felt that any kind of familial affection marred his relationship with them. He believed in honesty and loyalty in business, but he had always resisted making his crew a family, because families made decisions based on emotion, rather than practicality.
When he had first met Mara, it seemed that she represented all of those qualities and ideals he held so dear. She was quiet and kept to herself, but he quickly learned of her loyalty on a smuggler’s run when she, quietly and without fuss, exposed one of his administrators who was taking his own share out of Karrde’s profits. Mara explained to him afterwards, quite matter of factly, that she could just as easily have kept the crew member’s secret, and taken her own share of the swindle, but that just wasn’t the way she was. It had nothing to do with him specifically, she’d made clear, but he’d given her a chance by hiring her and she didn’t take that for granted.
Yet, somehow, in the intervening years, she had worked her way into his heart, so much so that he’d agreed to give her away at her wedding. Neither of them had been quite comfortable with the connotations of that act, and had an unspoken agreement never to discuss it again. He had selfishly asked her to withdraw slowly from his organisation, ostensibly because she seemed to know the work better than he did, but truthfully because he knew he would miss her shrewd judgement and unobtrusive company. While he liked Luke, and more importantly, respected him, Talon had resented him for the sudden shift in Mara’s loyalty and allegiance.
“It took him ten years to decide that he loved you,” he’d told her, “and suddenly you’re getting married?”
Mara had fixed him with inscrutable expression, and had shrugged. “I’m not asking you to understand.”
“Mara, I understand,” he’d explained. “You’ve just always been so cautious with each other. I just thought you would take things...slowly.”
“You’d think so, but...” Mara had given him another shrug. “And it’s not a Jedi thing either,” she’d continued. “Since I know that’s what you’re thinking.”
She’d been right - since it was the only aspect of her he didn’t quite understand. Her Force abilities were always something he’d been thankful for, but had never quite trusted. In Karrde’s mind, marrying Luke was taking Mara away from his world and into the world of the Jedi. Trading was about erudite practicalities and tangible facts, whereas the Force was about faith and while he had never doubted Mara’s conviction, he had thought it would be difficult for her to find a balance between the two. So he begged her to stay and tie up the loose ends her departure from the Smuggler’s Alliance would leave.
It had taken more time and energy than either of them had anticipated, and it hadn’t been long before the guilt had set in. Karrde could see the change in her, see her missing Luke and long for the life with him that she had chosen. But she had never complained, and her work had never suffered, so while Karrde had felt regret at causing her such disquiet, he’d also felt an overwhelming sense of pride. He’d felt ready, then, to let her go.
When Talon learned of her death, he ordered life on his ship to go on as normal, because he believed it was the way she would have wanted it. A minimum of fuss, she would have said, and would have expected no work to be put aside or ignored on her account. Not even Shada tried to comfort him, and that was the way he preferred it, although he knew she organised a memorial of sorts in the mess for the crew, to pay their respects to someone who had helped shape the organisation, and the galactic trade itself. Karrde appreciated that, but instead chose to retire to his cabin, not to mourn, but to reflect on the good times they had shared, how he had watched her grow from an angry, guarded and troubled young woman into a determined, resilient, slightly less guarded woman who had become a wife, mother and involved leader of the Jedi order. If someone had told him of the path Mara was to walk when he had first met her, he would have laughed in their face. Or perhaps not, he considered. She had always been someone who had seemed capable of anything - especially the unexpected.
He would miss her terribly. But Talon had lost enough comrades and friends to put aside the pain and instead appreciate the impact they had had on his life. He had never expected to have to do that with Mara, who he would have wagered would outlive them all, but habits of a lifetime were not easily cast aside. Mara would be the first to chastise him for treating her death differently to any of the other people he had lost over the years. He realised how often he thought about what her advice would be when he made a decision, although he had seen so many more years than her.
Talon pledged to himself to remember her vivacity and aggression for life, and her utter belief in herself, even when she was wrong. He would remember her in her son, who embodied her fierceness. He would remember her most in the quiet moments, when she had been silent, but hard-working and accomplished. For Talon, that was when she had excelled, when he had loved her the most, when she had been the greatest support to him and the most giving of herself.
He would remember everything.
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Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon.
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For Luke, the nights weren’t hard. At least, not like he thought they would be. There was an emptiness there, and not just on the bed beside him, but in his entire being. He would lie awake, longing for rest but unable to sleep as his mind swirled with thoughts and memories. Her presence was still there, her light, fresh scent still clinging to the pillow and sheets and Luke feared the day when it would fade, be smothered by his own no matter how much he tried to preserve it. The skin follicles that she had touched would die, the hair she had run her fingers through would be cut and discarded, the clothes that she had bought him would come apart at the seams and dissolve. It was life renewing itself, and yet erasing the firm stamp Mara had put on his life. She might have enjoyed the irony, but he certainly didn’t.
Night was a time of waiting. His heart jumped as a soft breeze whispered through the room, and wondered whether it was her, calling out to him. His ears strained against the silence, listening for her voice, for a voice within him, anything to tell him that she had found the path, found a way to cling to the physical universe as Obi-Wan had done.
At the time he had been relieved to be able to see her body - a part of him suspected that he wouldn’t have believed it otherwise. Would not have accepted that his wife had been defeated.
There had been many words of comfort from others- that were meant to be of comfort - saying that at least she had died in battle, like a warrior, like she had lived. Hollow words from people who did not know what else to say. She had been a warrior, yes, she had fought all of her life against herself, against him and the universe, and finally against evil, but she had deserved better. She had wanted it.
And to succumb to poison...that made it all the more difficult for Luke, because he knew it would have annoyed her. They had fought that battle, and won. And yet, he thought he had won the battle against the Sith as well, and that had not lasted, either. He despaired at the pointlessness of it all, even moreso because he knew he would keep fighting, for Mara, for Ben...but also because there was nothing left to do but fight.
He’d taken her body back to Coruscant, surrounded by stone, duracrete and metal. It was what she would have wanted. Coruscant, despite its bustle, its impersonal, unforgiving nature, had always been her home. She belonged to the city as a part of him would always belong to the deserts of Tatooine.
Luke pressed her last note - don’t be mad farmboy... in the pages of his favourite book - the one Mara had always teased him for reading. It was pointless, she said, to own something so cumbersome and heavy when ten times the information could fit on a datadisc. He liked the smell, the feel of the weight in his hands, the words on the page that couldn’t be erased. She scoffed, but sometimes she had caught her reading it, turning the pages reverently. Because she had liked things that were real, too.
He treasured that note - and cursed it as well. There was no mention of who she had gone to fight - he now knew that it hadn’t been Lumiya - no clue to indicate who he could go after for justice. It wasn’t like his wife. Mara was not impulsive, like he was...like their son was. She had always been the pragmatist. Frustratingly so, at times, but when it had mattered most...
He couldn’t deny a part of him was angry at her. Livid at how distant they had become, that she couldn’t trust him enough to back her up. It was as if they had regressed to the very beginning of their marriage, when she’d had such trouble trusting him with anything, before she’d learnt to balance independence with intimacy. But then a part of him understood that it had always been part of her nature to flee when she couldn’t face things, to take all the burdens upon herself so that she didn’t have the share the pains (or the glory) with anyone else.
He hadn’t cried - he couldn’t let go enough to weep for her. Perhaps it was because he kept expecting her to appear, perhaps he just didn’t want to adjust to life without her. He knew in time, that he would, because that was what Luke Skywalker did - he took loss in his stride and never breathed a word of his pain because he had always needed to be the strong one, for someone, for everyone.
He knew that he would never be a farmboy again - he was Luke Skywalker, a symbol, not a man. A life made up of titles, father, brother, friend, Master, but missing the one he felt truly made him whole. Never just Luke, anymore.
He thought that was what he would miss the most.
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On a seperate note - what's the deal with Tendra being pregnant? It's not that I object to it, really, but it seems rather...out of the blue. She's in her mid 50's (as far as I understand) and I know there's the altered GFFA biology, or whatever, but...I don't know. It jars with me. I kind of liked to think of Lando and Tendra as people who loved each other and their business and weren't that much interested in anything else (other than the old friendships of Luke-Han-Leia and co). I can't help but (cynically) think it's just to bring in a new baby girl to name 'Mara'. Which does not need to be done at all, imo.