Title: Agent of Life
Timeframe: NJO
Characters: Luke, Mara
Genre: Vignette, Angst, Romance
Summary: A short piece of possibility.

"Maybe Vergere's medicine made you vulnerable to the Force, as an agent of life."
~ Luke Skywalker, Balance Point

Steam from the shower clouded the mirror and Mara wiped it away, making just a large enough circle to see her face and shoulders. The strap of her nightgown slipped off one shoulder and she pushed it back up. She was thinner than she'd been when Luke had given her the gown. It didn't fit right anymore, not the way it had at first, accenting her curves just enough to make her feel feminine and sensual.

It had been an unexpected gift. Luke always told her she could make a tarp look good, but he'd noticed how she had touched the material of this gown on a long-ago shopping excursion. Long before the war with the Yuzhaan Vong. Long before the disease that had been her way of life for the past three years.

More and more often, there were times when she didn't recognize herself in the mirror. Her hair was brittle, her cheeks hollow. The strap slipped from her shoulder again and she fingered it shakily before allowing her hand to travel down the soft fabric, over muscles she fought to keep in fighting condition and succeeded with less frequency as the months passed.

The importance of physical fitness, proper diet, and adequate rest had been the foundations of her earliest training. She had been raised to treat her body with the same care she showed her weapons and she had always been healthy. There had been times, after Palpatine's death, when she had gone hungry waiting for the next no-count job or paycheck, but even then she'd not had the dark circles under eyes that stared back at her now.

Pushing the strap back into place again, Mara rubbed her fingers over the flimsy-thin transparent skin of her shoulder and leaned against the wall. She had enjoyed a brief remission two months ago, but the disease had returned worse than ever this time and simply taking a shower had left her out of breath.

Inhaling and exhaling with slow deliberation, she made her way down the short corridor to the bedroom. Luke was already in bed, lying on his stomach with one arm flung off the side. Pausing in the doorway, Mara's gut tightened in a pang of regret. He had gone to sleep without her. Again, something that happened more and more these days.

They'd been apart so frequently in the early days of their marriage that each night together had been a glorious re-discovery. Sleep was an irrelevant necessity, overtaking them only after hours of talk and laughter and lovemaking. And she had always fallen asleep in his arms, lying on her left side with his chest against her back and his arm draped loosely around her waist.

Making her way across the darkened room, she slipped under the covers and pressed herself quietly against Luke's warm side. He turned over instinctively, without waking, and pulled her into his arms, holding her with tender protectiveness.

The musky scent of his skin stirred a longing within her that had been tamped down since the onset of this exacerbation. Angry tears burned her eyes. Some might have considered it petty, but her hunger – her need – for her husband was much deeper than any physical act. Passion was as much a part of their bond as the Force and denying it was like refusing to breathe.

Luke had told her, many times, that his love for her would never change, even if he could never touch her again, and she loved him even more. But she still had breath and life in her body and she wanted to spend it on him now.

Shifting in his arms, she pressed her lips to his chest, tasting the faint trace of cleanser from the shower and then the salt of her tears as they finally leaked down her cheeks.

"Hey," he whispered softly. "What's wrong?"

She did not answer, but tilted her head up and kissed him, slipping her hand behind his neck to hold his mouth against hers. His lips were soft and his beard stubble coarse and she clutched him to her in silent determination. Running her hand down the hard planes of his back, she reached the top of his sleep pants and tugged it below his waist.

Luke pulled away. "Mara?"

"I want you," she panted, her lips still pressed to his.

He pulled back further and she could see his eyes shining through the darkness. "We can't." The last time they'd tried to make love, she'd grown weary too soon. Stubbornly refusing his offer to refresh her in the Force, she'd tossed in restless sleep, leaving him alone.

He had never mentioned his solitude, nor would he. Instead, he caressed her face gently. "You're already having trouble breathing just from the shower. Maybe when you're stronger -"

"No!" She pushed herself up onto her elbow, not even attempting to contain the flash of anger and frustration. "What if I don't get any stronger?" she asked, her voice trembling with crackling emotion. "What if this is it? What if this is all the time we'll ever get?"

Even in the dark, she could tell he'd gone pale. "Don't say that. We'll find a cure."

"What if we don't?" The words rang between them – words she'd never dared to speak before.

Luke stared at her, stricken.

"Please." Mara leaned close to him again, her shaky touch begging him to understand. "I need you," she whispered hoarsely. "I need to be us. To be who we are."

He shook his head, kissing her fingertips. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." Drawing him into her arms, she reassured him with a kiss; and this time, he did not pull away. For all his chivalrous protests, his desire was evident as he enveloped her in an embrace that was no longer chaste.

She had long been craving his weight on her body and she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him closer. His lips were hot as he enveloped her mouth and kissed neck hungrily. Her heart raced…

…too fast. Much too fast.

Luke pushed her gown up, sliding the silky fabric over her flushed skin…

…and she was dizzy. Luke's face swam over her and she couldn't focus.

"Mara?" His voice sounded distant, as if through a vacuum.

He started to pull away and she clutched him tighter, urging him forward. "Don't stop," she gasped. Long-repressed realization surfaced in unexpected desperation: each day could be her last. This union with her husband could be her last.

Time seemed to stop as the implication of her thoughts reverberated across their bond. She felt his horror and grief – his determination not to let her go. The room tilted and went gray, swimming out of focus, and she pressed her lips to his, teetering on the edge of consciousness…

…his voice sounded silently within her heart, My love…

This time, he did not ask her permission, but infused her with his Force, filling her completely, body and soul. Their bodies met and merged in the intimate dance and, awash in his light and love, she was swept to heights of bliss where there was no pain or illness, only his strength and the power he imparted to sustain her.

She was whole.

She was strong.

In his arms, she was what they once were.

In the mute of raw understanding, they lay tangled together in the darkness. He stroked her hair, lulling her to sleep with soft whispers of affection as the Force ebbed around them, fading into quiet peace.

And that night, in the sacred hollow of her womb, his love…

…became life.

~End~