"Hunting what?"
She almost said it: you.
But as she opened her mouth to speak, realization slipped away like the black wolf itself, and all she could do was to stare blankly into her master's yellow-flecked eyes.
Finally she looked away, her eyes skipping about the room unfocused as she tried to recall the brief instant of clarity. She had experience only a few visions in her life and when they came, they were like this--broken, fragmented, intensely real in the moment, but lost to her the instant they dissipated.
She shook her head then found her voice, remembering to whom she spoke. "I don't know, master. I'm sorry..."
She knew it both displeased and frustrated him that her abilities were not equal to this, so tried to move the conversation quickly on to something more readily achievable. "I'll have the pane replaced immediately."
"Do so." His tone was impatient, irritable.
Mara bowed and glanced to the unconscious man. Turning to call the guards in she paused, twisting back without looking up, tone penitent. "Master, I apologize; I shouldn't have left him. He's too great a danger--I understand that now."
"Only now?"
She heard the familiar sting of disappointment in his voice, but when she looked to him, his eyes and his attention were totally centered on the slumped form of his Jedi, and she was already forgotten.
.
.
.
To be continued...
.
Chapter 12
.
.
CHAPTER TWELVE
.
.
.
"The Emperor commands your presence." Mara spoke without emotion, without even bothering to look.
It was nine days since he'd shattered the window--he thought.
For over a week the drug had kept Luke hazy and still--not quite unconscious but not quite able to gather his wits enough to stand or walk or even truly react to anything about him.
Whatever the drug was, Luke hadn't been able to counter it with the Force, leading him to wonder in retrospect whether it was self-replicating; anything else he would have been able to clear from his system. This must have been custom-developed to duplicate at a faster rate than he could remove it, leaving him to sit in vague awareness as time buzzed by in long blank waves the memory of which left him from moment to moment, interspersed by fractions of jumbled images removed from time or circumstance.
He had distant, distorted memories of people coming and going, of Mara ever-present, watching him as he watched her, blinking slowly, unable to do more than simply sit in the chair by the window, books remaining unread, the sabacc cards on the table untouched, stillness stretching in aching silence. Of raised voices and sharp words when Vader drifted through his line of sight.
Of Palpatine sitting in the huge, heavy chair opposite him, always talking, reproaches and rebukes too fast to follow.
Of watching his reedy, pallid lips moving against spoiled teeth with no idea--none at all--of what he had said. Just staring at him in dull, listless silence and watching...
When he had finally summoned every iota of will and concentration to murmur, "..stop.." --just that--the rancorous old man had paused mid-diatribe, cold amusement in his eyes.
"Stop what, Jedi?"
"...this.." he'd uttered, aware that when he blinked it took long seconds to drag his eyes open again.
"Have you learned this lesson?" the Sith had asked with taunting indifference.
It had taken a long time for Luke to answer. A long time simply to process the question and longer still to realize that he had no choice in this; either he conceded or he remained in this state. He was aware of time passing, of how long it took him to gather the focus to reply. Acutely aware of Palpatine's mocking, expectant stare.
It had probably been quite literally minutes before he finally managed, "...Yes..."
Mara had been summoned back into the room to administer an antidote which she did without once looking at him, despite the fact that he had watched her constantly from cloudy, drug-dulled eyes.
And then he had slept--for how long he had no idea.
But when he'd woken it was late evening and he was in the high, wide bed, the sheets perfectly straight, as if he hadn't once moved since being placed there.
Very much aware that he had been given a crystal clear warning--that they had the drug in reserve; that they could control him--stop him dead if they wanted to.
But he now knew that Mara and some of the guards routinely carried it, and he knew they could fire it in a dart, though it couldn't be made airborne--if it could, they would surely have used it.
And he knew Mara had access to the antidote.
She kept a wary, deliberate distance from him now, spurning any attempt at communication, her sense in the Force cold and hard and closed in a way that it had never been before.
He remembered...through the fog of the drugs she had first injected into him when the guards had rushed into the room in gratifying numbers...remembered her speaking to him, turning his face toward her as she spoke, but her words were lost to the numbing haze and if he'd had enough awareness to answer, then he'd had too little to remember.
He knew he'd disturbed her somehow; angered her--scared her perhaps. Alienated her probably...which was never his intention
Of everyone here, Mara was the one person whom he thought he might somehow reach out to. The one person with whom he wanted to try such. Something about her presence had...resonated.
But now she never met his eyes. Nobody here did. No one except Palpatine.
He'd rolled to his side and waited for the room to stop spinning. Eventually he pushed upright on the edge of the bed, holding still as reality did one slow, deliberate, nauseating loop about him.
"How long have I been out?" he finally asked, hoping to draw her out.
His dry throat made his voice rough and ragged and he shivered physically, though he didn't know whether that was the nip of the cool air on his skin--he wore only drawstring sleep trousers--or withdrawal from the drugs.
She didn't answer, didn't look.
His throat and mouth were parched. The thought of standing seemed insurmountable in that moment.
"Not talking, huh?" he murmured, rubbing at gritty eyes. Keep trying. "C'mon, it's not like you liked that table."
Still she wouldn't turn. He dragged a trembling hand through his hair, very much aware of how fragile he felt. "Are you allowed to give me water?"
No reply.
"Then I guess something to eat's out of the question?"
He tilted his head, trying to catch her eye. "C'mon, Red. You're the only one around here worth talking to."
He sensed some deeper discomfort at this, some uneasy confusion, and wondered at it.
Her head turned a fraction, pale green eyes narrowing at him, and he managed a tired, lopsided grin, which only seemed to make her scowl all the more.
"C'mon--one word? Would it make you feel any better if I told you that right now I feel pretty much like that table looked?"
"No." She glared, voice sharp and accusing, though it lacked her usual bite.
But she had spoken.
"See, you're such a pushover--you just can't resist putting me down." He smiled as he spoke, his voice teasing, eyes already half-closed again.
Those jade green eyes softened just slightly as they met his and she shook her head, the barest touch of a smile lifting the corners of her lips.
"Mara!"
The wave of Dark energy rolled into the room like a pressure change, enveloping them both, breaking the moment. His voice was hard and sharp, brimming with annoyance, and his eyes never left Luke as he entered, a flurry of raven robes against the red skies of dusk outside.
Jade bowed low, her sense abruptly penitent.