AN: This story was written for a "Luke in Handcuffs" challenge - not that I need an excuse to put Luke in binders! Bearing in mind that there are minors using this website I have edited the story and taken out a more "mature" scene - but I believe the story works just as well with out it (Or at least, I hope it does).

Many, many thanks to Kataja for beta reading.

Disclaimer: I am only playing in George Lucas's sandbox. I make no profit, but I do have a lot of fun!

Downfall

Lone footsteps slapped on wet paving stones, splashing through puddles kept full by the deluge of rain that had swept over the city for the last two days. The figure dashed into an alleyway, zigzagged through a series of tight turns and came to a stop deep in the shadows created by the tall buildings to each side and by the dark rain clouds that hung over the area.

He pressed himself against the ancient brickwork, listening for his pursuers desperately trying to slow his breathing, his panting, lest they hear him.

Two days now, he had been running. Two days of constant pursuit, of running and hiding in corners and shadows. He was exhausted, soaked to the skin, hungry and tired of drinking rain water. Thanks only to his wits, adrenalin and the Force he was still alive and free, but he was beginning to tire - his limbs ached, his stomach cramped and when night fell it became so cold that the rain became like ice shards and he feared he would freeze to death.

He closed his eyes, reached out with the Force and was immediately assaulted by the fear that gripped this city as the Imperial troops ransacked it, as they tore through streets after their quarry indiscriminately arresting its citizens on suspicion of harbouring a traitor, razed homes and businesses once they had been searched so there were fewer places for him to hide.

There had been deaths.

So much fear, so much horror and death in one place because Luke Skywalker's mission here had been discovered by the local Imperial Garrison and Darth Vader and his fleet had descended.

"I am you father!"

He flexed his right hand in response to the memory of Vader's announcement, of Vader's hand being extended to him; an open invite to take it.

"Come with me, it is the only way."

He squeezed his eyes shut, turned his face to the sky and allowed the rainfall to run over his skin to drip from his chin to his sodden clothes.

If he had gone with Vader he wouldn't be here now. If he had gone with Vader this city would not be suffering, if he had gone with Vader...

He opened his eyes, blinked away water.

If he was to go with Vader now, if he was to step from the shadows of the alley way and surrender this would all stop and no-one else would die because of him.

But the information he carried was too important, was vital to the future of the Alliance and he was the only one who knew it. If he died now, then so would the Rebellion and all who fought for the restoration of the Republic.

He pulled his blaster from its holster, checked the power levels and grimaced. It was running low, had been well used during his flight through the city and now had barely enough power for one or two more shots.

If only he had his lightsaber.

"I am your father."

It couldn't be true, it had to be a lie, an attempt by Vader to coerce him to the Dark Side. Give the orphan something he always wanted, what he had dreamed of all his life and watch him fall.

He hitched his breath, held it, as boot steps scraped on wet flagstones and a stormtrooper stepped around the corner.

Luke pressed himself against the bricks, willing the soldier to turn the other way. He swallowed, gripped his pistol, licked his lips as the soldier stopped only a few scant metres away.

And turned to stare right at him.

The trooper started at the sight of his quarry so close, his rifle immediately rising. Luke was quicker and pulled off a shot, the blast to the chest throwing the trooper violently against the opposite wall. The man dropped to the ground as the sound of the shot resonated loudly in the enclosed alley.

Luke turned, fled once more with shouts of; "Here! He's here!" echoing behind him as more soldiers barrelled around the corner.

He pulled off another shot, dropped another soldier and dashed around a bend to find more Imperial troopers heading his way.

One last blast and his gun failed him. He threw the weapon away and ran in the opposite direction, sprinting blindly down side streets, around corners and through shadow allowing the Force to guide him, trusting the Force to shake off his pursuers once more.

He turned another corner and was faced by a dead end with a single door set into the wall; securely locked and bolted. He gathered his strength, cried out as he threw out his arms and Force pushed it open, the door flew inward snapping the locking mechanism. He dashed through and started up the stairs as the chasing soldiers entered a little more cautiously.

He ran, taking two and three steps at a time as he climbed several stories and shouldered open another door at the top to find himself outside on a flat roof. He ran to the edge, looked across to the neighbouring building as an explosion rocked the area and screams and flames rose from nearby.

It was with horror that he realised the Imperials were destroying the streets and buildings he had just ran through.

"Stand where you are!"

He turned at the shout, saw the soldiers spilling through the door onto the roof.

Panting with exertion, with muted panic, he stepped away from the edge, raised his hands as though surrendering and the soldiers slowed their pace believing they had him.

He moved, turned and darted away from them and leapt from the roof to land and roll on the opposite building. He climbed to his feet, dodged blaster bursts that came his way and ran and jumped to the next roof.

ooOOoo

Luke collapsed to his knees, his back to the door that had just shut behind him. He was still for a moment and rain water from his drenched clothing pooled on the duracrete floor beneath him. He heaved in a breath of dry air and lifted his head to survey the room. It was utterly empty, like the rest of this building, devoid of life bar scuttling rodents and insects.

It had taken a while for him to shake off his pursuers. He had thought all was lost when seekers droids and shuttles had joined the chase but, as night had fallen, his luck had turned and in the early hours of the morning he had gradually lost those chasing him and he had found this building. It was old and abandoned, condemned, and it would give him a few hours respite and rest before he would be forced out into the rain again.

He had checked exits, planned his escape route and then fallen to the floor of this room.

He rose with a groan, squelched to the far corner and slid down the wall to sit across from the door with a dirt streaked window above his head. He shivered with cold, wondered if he should remove some of his clothes but decided against it. He leaned back, brought his knees up and hugged them close in an effort to retain some heat in his exhausted body, and rested his head against the wall. He closed his eyes as he listened to the rain drumming against the window pane.

He didn't know what to do next, didn't know where to turn, or how to get himself, and the citizens of this city, out of this situation.

The spaceport was closed down, cordoned off by rows of Imperial weaponry. The city was the same; it boundaries protected by lines of troopers and war machines, all travel beyond its limits cut off.

Areas where he had been spotted, or even rumoured to have been seen, had been destroyed and its people relocated or killed.

They were closing in on him, taking away any escape route and destroying hiding places.

It was only a matter of time.

He groaned, shook his head; water from his hair dripping to his shoulders.

He should give up, he should stop this, stop the destruction and the killing and willingly surrender to them.

But the information he had...

What were a few hundred deaths here if millions could be saved elsewhere with what he had found out about the Empire's plans?

Too much, too many...

He closed his eyes against the grief, the guilt, as despair descended.

"I am your father."

He could feel Vader's presence on the planet. Could feel the darkness of the Sith Lord weighing him down, could feel the net tightening around him; the shadows deepening. They beckoned to him, whispered to him, teasing him with thoughts of family and belonging.

"Come with me, it is the only way."

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, forced the images of his failure on Bespin from his mind; the hand stretched out to him, the entreaty from Vader that had haunted his nightmares in the weeks since still enough to make him falter and doubt.

"Much anger in him, like his father."

Did Yoda know?

Had the Jedi hid the truth from him?

Was Vader really his father?

"Powerful Jedi was he. Powerful Jedi."

Again he shook his head. No, his father had been a Jedi, not a Sith Lord. His father had been a good man. A man who had fought in the Clone Wars for peace and justice. A man who had been betrayed and murdered by Darth Vader.

Hadn't he?

He drew in a breath, trying to shake off the disturbing thoughts, trying to dislodge them, dismiss them, toss them away. He needed to get out of this situation, he needed to get away, to get back to the Alliance, to tell them what he had learned here.

Then he needed to find Han and free him.

He needed to return to Yoda to finish his training and to ask a few questions of the aged Jedi Knight.

He kept his eyes closed, forcing him himself to relax, pushing away the memories, clearing his mind. He gathered the Force to him, felt it wrap around him, flood him with power and potential. He would meditate, he would seek answers as Yoda had taught him; through the Force he would see things, through the Force he would find the path he should follow.

Lulled by the beating of the rain on the window, exhausted by his flight of the last two days, Luke fell asleep, his body sliding down the wall to curl upon the floor.

...red and blue lights flashed in darkness...

...a shriek...

...boot steps drumming on stone paving...

... a black gloved hand reaching for him...

... a scream...

... a plea...

..."No, please!"...

He jerked awake, groaned as stiff muscles protested the sudden movement and he turned onto his back to stare at the ceiling of the unfamiliar room initially wondering where he was.

Then he remembered.

Being discovered here by the Empire, his flight through the city, and finding his current refuge.

"Please, no!"

He started as the cries from his dream echoed from outside and he quickly pushed himself to his feet flinching as his leg muscles painfully cramped. He limped to the window and looked, his mouth drying in fear, his heart rate increasing as once more he saw the white armour of his pursuers standing in the rain below him.

"No... I beg you..."

A woman's voice and Luke realised that the troopers had someone encircled among them. He swallowed, uncertain of what to do. There were three of them, one of him and...

An armoured hand lashed out and struck the woman across the face.

Angered, Luke unlatched the window and silently pushed it open. Too many had died for him and he wasn't going to stand by while another suffered because of him.

He climbed onto the window sill as the hand was raised again.

He jumped, dropped, and caught the assailant in the back, bringing him down. He rolled in the puddles, quickly recovered and turned using a Force push to throw the other two soldiers away. They crashed to ground several metres away.

He hastily snatched up the trooper's fallen rifle and grabbed the woman's hand and ran, pulling her with him.

They moved swiftly, silently, through the deserted streets, hiding in corners and shadows as patrols passed by.

Finally, as he went round yet another corner, she stopped, dragged her feet on the ground and refused to allow him to guide her any more. He turned surprised at the physical strength the petite woman possessed, or perhaps more surprised at how weaken and debilitated he was.

"No," she told him, firmly.

"What?" He nervously glanced around making sure they were alone and unseen. "We should keep moving and..."

"No," she said again, pushing her sodden brown hair away from her face, grey eyes searching his blue. "I live here."

"If they've seen us this way they'll bring it down," he told her. "We need to move."

"No!" She raised her chin defiantly. "I am not the fugitive, this is my home!"

Luke swallowed his exasperation, his growing consternation. "You've been seen with me," He persisted, still looking around, reaching out with the force to sense any pursuit. "You're in danger if you go back that way."

She smiled at this. "I believe I will be in more danger if I stay with you." She sighed, studied him, noting the dark circles around his eyes, the soaking clothes, the agitation that gripped him. Her features softened. "How many days since you've eaten?"

Luke was in a hurry to move, to get away, but he answered. "Two, maybe three. Look, we really need to..."

"Since you wore dry clothes and slept in a bed?"

"The same," Luke told her hurriedly, adrenalin twisting his belly with anxiousness.

"Come with me."

He started at the familiar words, his mind echoing them with a very different voice. "What?"

"I live nearby, you'll be safe," she shrugged, wiped rain from her face, "for a while anyway. It is warm and dry, you can eat, rest."

He hesitated, licked his lips at the appealing offer.

She smiled, seeing his indecision. "There is a bed."

He could feel the truth of her words, could sense that she meant what she said. After running for so long it was tempting to trust her. The thought of being warm and dry, of having food in his belly was irresistible. "I..."

She slipped her hand in his. "You helped me, saved me. Let me help you."

She gently pulled him and he followed placing one foot in front of another allowing her to lead him through the afternoon deluge until she unlocked a door and drew him into a building after her. She turned, locked the door and gestured for him to follow her through a second door.

Luke stepped out of the hallway into a small apartment as again she locked the door after them. She turned, smiled shyly. "My home," she told him.

It was a one room affair; a small open living space with a kitchenette. There was a sofa that he suspected could be unfolded into a bed, a drawer unit, a small table and two chairs and a cheap holonet player fixed to the wall. One other door led from the room to what Luke suspected would be a compact fresher.

She saw the direction of his gaze and opened the top drawer of the unit pulling out a soft towel. She held it out to him and smiled. "You can use it," she offered, gesturing to the closed door. "There should still be plenty of hot water."

Again there was brief hesitation before Luke took the towel from her and gave her a little smile. "Thanks."

Still carrying his stolen blaster rifle, he stepped into the tiny, closet sized area and smiled. It was a wet room, the walls, floor and ceiling were all tiled. There was a mirror with a shelf beneath it holding various bottles and tubes of women's toiletries, a refresher bowl, a towel rail and an extractor fan set into the ceiling that immediately turned on when he turned the shower faucet and warm water began to flow.

He hung the towel on the rail, placed the gun beneath it, and stripped from his clothes. They were heavy and damp, stinking of sweat and filthy with grime and dirt. He stepped under the warm water as steam began to gather in the enclosed area. He washed quickly using a bottle of soap that had been sitting on a shelf beneath the faucet, lathering it in his hair hoping that the light fragrance wouldn't make him smell too effeminate.

He rinsed and turned the water off and reached for the towel. He dried his hair and body and then wrapped the cloth around his waist. He glanced in the mirror, bared his teeth and snagged a tube of tooth cleanser and squeezed some onto his finger, rubbed it onto his teeth and around his mouth. He ran the water, scooped some in his palm and rinsed his mouth, spitting into the bowl.

Luke faltered, uncertain of what to do now. His clothes were lying in a sodden pile on the floor and he couldn't put them back on again.

He glanced at the door, a slight blush warming his cheeks as he realised that he would have to go out wearing just the towel.

"Shit," he breathed, then laughed at himself. The entire Empire was searching for him, tearing this city apart looking for him and he was worried about wearing just a towel in the presence of strange woman.

Luke lifted the rifle, and his clothes and opened the door and was met with the aroma of herbs and spices and cooking meat. His mouth filled with saliva and he swallowed hungrily.

She turned as the door opened fought back a smile as her guest gingerly entered the room with his clothes in his hands. Her eyes flicked over his body, settling on the towel around his lower half.

"I, uh..." Luke started, looking around trying not to see were her gaze finished, but noticing that she had also dried off and had changed out of her own wet clothes into a simple white robe tied at the waist. "I... uh... you don't have anything else I could wear do you?"

She shook her head, again suppressing a smile at his crest fallen appearance. He knew that looking at him now she could not see the dangerous fugitive that the Empire was looking for, the felon whose picture and crimes were plastered all over the local holonet channels. All she saw was an embarrassed man in a towel.

"I'm sorry," she explained. "I live alone, but I can wash and have your clothes dried for morning."

Luke shook his head. "I shouldn't be here that long, it's too dangerous."

The young woman nodded to the holoplayer that was now broadcasting news reports. "They're searching in another sector. They think you've doubled back and are using the ruins to hide in, they think you might try and pass yourself off as a refugee with those displaced by the searches."

Luke glanced at the screen on the wall and stepped forward when he saw his picture was displayed. He absently placed his clothes into her offered hands as he watched footage of the searches, of the crowds of people made homeless and listened to commentary that was full of condemnation for him and rhetoric for the Empire.

"Why would they broadcast that?" he asked, turning to her. "Why would they release that information if there's a chance I'd see it?"

She pushed his clothing into the laundry cleanser set under the kitchen counter and switched it on. "Do you have a portable holoplayer?" she questioned. "Any means of accessing the media?"

Luke shook his head, eyes glued to the screen; he didn't even have a comlink on him. He winced as a reward for information on his whereabouts, or his live capture, was announced. Someone could live in luxury for the rest of their lives on that amount of money. "No," he told her, thinking of her circumstances in this tiny one roomed apartment.

She came round beside him and switched off the holoplayer, catching his eye as she told him. "Then that is why they broadcast it," and added, "If I had wanted the money I would have alerted them when you were in the 'fresher."

Again he could feel the truth in her words. He looked shamed faced that she could have understood his thoughts so readily. "I'm sorry," he told her.

She smiled again, grey eyes dancing with humour. "Are you always so suspicious of others?" She gestured to the small table that was now set for a meal.

"No," he answered as he sat, pulling the edges of the towel together as the young woman returned to kitchenette and opened the kiln. He placed the blaster rifle on the floor next to his chair leg. "I'm usually accused of trusting too easily."

She gave him a sudden, sharp look as she lifted their meal out and set it on the counter.

"I didn't mean that I'm wrong to trust, I mean..." he floundered, looking for the right words, not wanting to upset his host. "I... it's just got me into trouble more often than I care to admit."

"Like now?" she wanted to know as she plated their food.

He sighed, shoulders falling with exhaustion. "Yes, my contact here had been discovered and eliminated before I arrived. The man who met me was an undercover operative."

"You trusted him?"

"Not exactly," he told her. "But I trusted the information that lead me here."

"What are you going to do?"

Luke rubbed his face with his hands. "I don't know. I... too many people have died because I'm here. I need to get off world, or... I could surrender myself." He sounded weary, beaten.

She placed a plate before him and sat opposite with her own meal. "What would they do?" she asked.

He glanced at her, not really wanting to imagine what they would do to him, what Vader would do with him.

"I am your father!"

"If you chose the quick and easy path, as Vader did, you will become an agent of evil."

He cleared his throat. "I don't know... I don't really want to find out either."

There must have been something in his voice, something that told her he knew exactly what would happen to him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked." She said, looking away. She lifted her cutlery and began eating.

"It's alright," he assured her as he glanced down at his own plate. It was some sort of stew full of vegetables and cubes of meat. It looked good, it looked warm and filling.

He lifted his fork and scooped up a mouthful. It was delicious, not over seasoned and lightly spiced. He shovelled the food into his mouth; used to eating on the run, used to grabbing what he could, when he could.

"I would have made more, if I realised that you were this hungry," a humour filled voice interrupted.

Luke glanced up mid shovel, again there was a flush to his cheeks. He placed his fork down on the empty plate and chewed his last mouthful. He swallowed, shrugged and smiled. "It's good," he explained lamely.

"And you were hungry," she told him, slowly chewing her own meal.

He nodded aware of his poor manners, aware that his late aunt would have been mortified at his behaviour. He shifted awkwardly on the chair remembering he was wearing only a towel, aware that he had been running and hiding from the Empire for the last three days, aware of what this young woman was risking by giving him shelter.

She placed her utensils down. "It must be hard for you," she stated, watching him. "All that running and fighting. I can't imagine how scared you must be."

He wanted to tell her that he wasn't scared, that fear meant nothing to him, but he knew he'd be lying.

"I shouldn't stay," he said pushing his plate away and standing, lifting the blaster. "I should go, I can't risk you getting into trouble on my account."

Her eyes briefly flickered to the gun, but she merely smiled at him, lifted their empty plates and crossed to the kitchenette and placed the crockery and utensils into the sink. "I don't think you would get very far dress in just a towel," she observed.

He coloured, looked away.

She came toward him and offered him her hand. Looking down at her, he took it, realising how petite she was, how slight and young. He frowned, lightly touched the bruise that was appearing on her cheek where the trooper had hit her. "You're hurt."

"So are you," she pointed out, placing her palm against his chest and his bruises and scrapes there, the results of the last few days fighting and running.

He drew in a tight breath at her touch and stepped back.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, misunderstanding. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Luke widened the distance between them, his skin tingling where she had touched him. "No, it's okay," he told her, turning away and ensuring the towel was tightly tied at his waist.

"I have some painkillers if you need them," she offered.

"I'm fine," Luke told her, fighting his agitation. He stood by the side of the window looking out to the darkening street, keeping watch. "I just... I feel that I need to move, that I should be doing something, that I shouldn't be here."

As if on cue the laundry washer gurgled as it drained water away and began the rinse cycle.

"A couple more hours and your clothes will be washed and dried," she observed, "and you'll be free to go. I told you, they're not searching this area. You are safe here for now."

Luke frowned at the tiny twist he sensed in the Force, he reached out trying to find the source of the sudden unease but could sense nothing apart from his host's mild discomfort at his nervousness. He wished he could believe her statements about being safe, but out there thousands of stormtroopers were searching for him.

Out there the man who claimed to be his father was looking for him.

"I don't even know your name," he told her just to fill the awkward moment. He glanced toward her waiting for her answer.

She looked hesitant at first, then she gave a little crooked smile. "I'm Jem. Jem Ra'ada."

"Luke," he told her. "I'm Luke Sky..."

She laughed waved at the deactivated holoplayer. "I know who you are. Luke Skywalker, Commander in the Rebel Alliance, wanted for murder and sedition."

"Yeah, well," he shrugged, coloured at her words, uncomfortable with how his actions in the war were being described. "You shouldn't believe everything you hear on the holonet."

"Oh?" she settled on the arm of the sofa near him, teasing him with, "so you didn't fight against the Empire at the Battle of Yavin?"

"No, I did, it just didn't happen the way the Empire reported."

"So how did it happen?" She reached across him and closed the window shutters.

He looked down at her again. He knew they were of a similar age, but he felt ages older, worn down by war and death and by his experiences on Bespin.

Did he really want to share any of those burdens with this woman he had only just met.

"Luke?" She questioned his silence. "How did it happen?"

There was a curious eagerness in her words, a wanting to know, but still he was reluctant to sully her with stories of loss and conflict.

"I shouldn't tell you," he explained, speaking softly. "It would be too dangerous. If they find out that I've been here and you know these things they'll..."

Jem leaned forward, took his free hand once more. "If they find out that you have been here I don't think it will matter if you have told me anything. The result will still be the same."

Luke brushed his thumb over the back of her hand; again there was a truth in her words. She stood up, took the gun from him and set it under the window and brought him around the front of the sofa and sat him down. She settled beside him, smiling at his nervousness, his continued agitation.

"Are you always so on edge?" she asked mildly.

"Only when half the Empire is after me," he told her, with a self-conscious smile.

"Are you sure it's only half the Empire?" she joked, leaning forward and surprising him by brushing her lips over his.

He jerked away, stunned, suddenly aroused. Not wanting to take advantage of this situation, of her. "Jem, I..."

"It's okay," she told him, leaning in again. "It's okay to do this."

Luke studied her, held back. Would this be the right thing to do? Would it be so wrong to take what was being offered when outside this tiny room people were dying because of him?

"Jem, this..."

She kissed him again, and he hesitantly responded. His hand moved to the back of her head pulling her closer and the kiss deepened, tongues briefly touching as though testing intent.

They broke apart; blue eyes meeting grey as they searched each other, as they looked for permission to continue.

"I won't hurt you," she told him.

And before Luke could ponder the strange statement she kissed him again, pulling him closer, wrapping her arms around him as she arched against him with sudden need.

And it didn't matter anymore. Outside could wait, the war could wait. This was what he needed, this was what he wanted at this moment. To forget, no matter how briefly, just to forget it all and lose himself to the comfort that she was offering.

Luke broke away, cupped her face in his hand and again touched the bruise on her cheek. He brushed it with his lips, trailed them down her neck lightly kissing her skin over her collar bone.

She stopped him, placed a hand against his chest. "Wait," she panted softly.

Luke drew back, blood now thundering in his ears, his heart pounding, his body aching with want. "What?" he gasped, was she backing out now?

She stood and took his hands, pulled him to his feet. With a quick press on a pad on the side of the sofa she caused it to unfolded into a ready-made bed. She smiled at his confusion and pulled back the sheets, piling them at the bottom of the mattress.

"This'll be more comfortable," she told him as she untied her robe and shrugged it from her shoulders. The garment pooled at her feet.

Luke stepped forward wanting to take her into her arms, but she moved away, climbed onto the bed and lay back, inviting him to join her.

ooOOoo

Gasping, he fell against her, welcomed her arms around him. They lay silent allowing tired muscles to rest, enjoying the afterglow of their union. As their breathing slowed they disentangled from each other and lay side by side, heads on pillows gazing at each other.

"Jem, I..."

"Shhhh," she whispered, placing a finger against his lips. "You should sleep now, rest."

Behind them in the kitchenette the laundry washer pinged at the end of the cycle.

Luke smiled against her finger. "My clothes are dry," he mumbled.

"You don't need your clothes just now," she told him quietly, brushing his sweat damped hair from his face, and kissing him lightly on the lips. She sat up, reached down and gathered the bed clothes over them.

Luke smiled as the warm quilt covered him, as Jem settled down in his arms once more. He knew this couldn't last, he knew he had to leave in the morning, he knew he had to continue his flight from the Empire, and he knew that he would probably never see this girl again. But for now he could take her comfort, for now he could rest and gather his strength.

He closed his eyes as her hand traced a soothing pattern on his back. It wasn't long before his exhaustion got the better of him and he fell into a deep, sated, sleep.

Jem lay with him, watching him sleep and listening to his breathing as it slowed and deepened. Once she was sure he was fast asleep she gently pulled away from him, pausing when he grunted at the movement and turned onto his belly, burrowing his head into the pillow.

She smiled at him and crossed the room to the fresher where she quickly showered, washing Luke from her body. She lathered her hair, using a dye remover to wash the dull brown from her tresses . Stepping out from the water she padded naked toward the mirror over the sink. She wiped away the condensation and stared at her reflection for a moment before removing the grey contact lenses from her eyes.

Again she glanced in the mirror seeing wet red hair and vibrant emerald eyes. She quickly returned to the single room, moving quietly past the bed to the dresser where she grabbed a towel and dried her body and hair as Luke slept on oblivious to her movements. She hastily dressed, pulling on a simple jump suit and strapping a heavy weapons belt around her waist.

She grabbed the final item from the drawer and switched on the small power cell, setting it to automatic. She glanced down at the sleeping man amazed that he had yet to stir, that his Jedi senses had not yet kicked in to the danger that now surrounded him.

Three days on the run with little rest and no food, not to mention the activity of the last hour or so, must have really taken their toll on him. She cocked her head; it was a shame really, he had been a good lover – unselfish, thinking of his partner's needs and not just his own.

She climbed back onto the bed, drew the quilt down his back, grasped his right hand and fitted the first cuff of the stun binders around the wrist. He stirred, mumbled, so she moved quickly, grabbing his other hand and dragging it behind him to snap it into the second cuff.

Luke came awake immediately, calling out with sudden realisation and jerking his wrists against the tight binders. His body tensed, stiffened, as the stun charge ran through his body, stealing the breath from him.

"Jem?" He questioned, his voice filled with pain and confusion, his face still buried in the pillow.

She ignored him and crossed to the door, opening it for the waiting stormtroopers.

Luke's eyes widened in horror as the soldiers flooded into the room. They hauled him from the bed.

"No!" He cried out, struggling and fighting against his captors. He screamed, was sent to his knees by the increased charge from the stun cuffs.

"Jem?" he asked again, looking up at her, at the changes in her appearance. Gone was the young girl who had helped him, gone was the woman who had willingly given herself to him. Instead he saw the seasoned grace of an Imperial agent.

There was movement at the door and a sound that Luke recognised, a sound that followed him into his nightmares. A sound that filled him with terror and despair and stole the very breath from him.

"I am your father."

Overwhelmed he slumped lower, hung his head, lost and alone, as Darth Vader stepped into the confines of the apartment.

"You took your time, Jade," The Dark Lord admonished the Emperor's hand.

She smirked. "I was enjoying myself," she told him.

"You set me up," a quiet voice stated from the floor.

They both turned to the naked boy on his knees between the towering stormtroopers.

He lifted his eyes to regard them, to look at her, to see if there was anything within her that resembled Jem. "All of this was a set up."

"You were causing havoc in the city, boy," Vader rumbled. "You are too stubborn to realise when you are beaten, too full of your own self importance to consider the damage being done to this place."

"It wasn't me who killed those people, it wasn't me who tore down their homes," Luke accused, slow anger burning beneath his words, beneath the terror that gripped him. He had been used, played by the man who claimed to be his father and by a woman who had shown him only concern and consideration.

"But it was only you who could stop it," the Dark Lord told him. "You knew that I would do everything within my power to capture you and still you ran, despite the blood being spilled at your back."

"It wasn't spilled by my hands," Luke refuted, his words barbed with resentment.

"Wasn't it?" Vader questioned darkly. "That is something that you and I must discuss." He gestured to the soldiers before turning away. "Bring him."

Grasped by his upper arms Luke was hauled to his feet and manhandled toward the door. He dug his heels in, fought against them, pulled at the tight cuffs around his wrists and was again dropped by a powerful charge as it raged through his body.

Vader stopped and turned as Jade caught the arm of one trooper as he bent to strike the fallen Rebel. He watched the exchange with interest.

"No," she told the soldier as she kneeled on the floor beside Luke. He was winded, gasping for the breath knocked out of him by the strong current. Taking his chin she turned his face to her. She smiled, shook her head. "Stop fighting, Luke. Stop fighting and you will not be harmed."

Luke glanced behind her at the waiting Sith Lord, clearly not believing her. He dragged his eyes back to hers searching them, confusion clear in the hazy blue that stared at her.

"You said you wouldn't hurt me," he told her, not understanding how this could have happened, how his Force senses had failed to pick up her deception. "You said that I would be safe here..."

"For a while," she reminded him, "I said you would be safe for a while, for now. And I haven't hurt you."

Cold realisation shook him. She had told him the truth, had hidden her trickery within the folds of honesty.

"Jem, what..."

"Mara," she told him. "Mara Jade."

Luke paused, took that in. He licked his lips and glanced at the rumpled sheets on the sofa bed. "What we did... was... was that part of the plan?"

She shrugged. "You were to be taken uninjured," she explained, coolly. "You were too agitated. Armed and too ready to fight. I needed you at rest and unprepared." She stood up, looked down on him. "I improvised."

He nodded loosely, dropped his head. He was beaten and helpless, striped of his dignity and pride. Now all was lost, now he was to face everything Obi-Wan and Yoda had warned him about.

"It is you and your abilities the Emperor wants..."

The troopers hauled him to his feet and dragged him from the room. This time he didn't fight them.

"Is he worth it?" Mara asked of Vader as quiet descended, unable to see in Skywalker what Vader saw, what her master saw. They said he was a threat, that he was powerful, that he could bring about the destruction of all they had built.

Mara didn't see that. All she saw was a man beaten and weary, a man who had just had all that he had fought for snatched from him and she was reminded of the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice, when she had asked what they would do with him if he surrendered.

Luke knew, as did she, what the Emperor would do. He would be turned, or he would die.

Vader studied her for a moment. "He will be." He told her with some certainty. He turned his back to her and stepped toward the door.

"Lord Vader?" she called as though she had just remembered something. She didn't understand this last command of her master, hadn't the knowledge to grasp the meaning of what she was about to say or why he had chuckled when he had made her repeat the words. However, she wasn't about to disobey him now.

The Dark Lord stopped, his obsidian mask turning to her.

"My master said to remind you, that it was a woman's betrayal that was Skywalker's father's downfall, too."

And Mara Jade was left alone to wonder why the Dark Lord of the Sith's shoulders slumped as he exited the room after his prisoner.