Alia cornered a library technician and gave him a long list of very specific files. "I want- I need - all of these. In two hours. Understand?"

"Who are you?" the tech asked.

She sighed, and drew out her identification. "My name is Skywalker. I work for Intelligence."

"I've seen you," he said, "I think. Ubiqtorate, right?"

She smiled, a humorless smile. "Don't I wish. No, you're confusing me with my sister, Gillian. She was killed at Endor."

"I'm deeply sorry," the tech said.

She nodded briskly. "Just...get me the files, all right?"

She started to turn away, but glanced back over her shoulder. "Name and rank, please."

"I'm Dawson Tell. Data tech, first class."

She nodded. "Be in the library in two hours. There's a little meeting I've put together, that I'd like you to sit in on. It could change your life. It could save your life."

And she moved on, pausing here and there, speaking to someone briefly before continuing along on her way. She accumulated, among other things, a large stack of data cards, which went into her shoulder bag. In addition to the files she'd requested from Tell, she commandeered a computer terminal and copied several dozen more, virtually every important file she could think of. She was finishing the last of these when a tall figure cloaked and armored in crimson approached her.

"Commander Alia Skywalker, Imperial Intelligence, is summoned into the presence of the Empress Daren Traniss Palpatine."

Alia's eyes did not show her surprise as she finished the last of her datacards and slipped it into her bag. She was mildly surprised, however. She seemed to have underestimated Palpatine's eldest daughter, having not expected her to move as quickly as she had. So, Empress already, she thought. Well. It's to be expected, I suppose. She rose gracefully from her seat and fallowed the robed Imperial Guardsman through the twisting corridors of the palace.

He escorted her into a small room, furnished, obviously quickly, with a single table and chair. A scattering of data cards and readers littered the tabletop, and the newly-crowned Empress was scanning one such when Alia entered the room. She was, quite obviously, better informed than Alia herself, which Alia had gotten used to over the years, but had never ceased to be irritated by.

"It has been an interesting day," said Daren. "I am sorry for the loss of your sister, and of course your uncle. They will be missed, and as soon as I've the time, the Empire shall honor them properly."

"Or whatever remains of the Empire," Alia said. She sighed. "But that's not fair of me, is it? I am sorry. It's been a long day, Your Highness."

"And promises to be longer still. You speak as if we weren't playing mad games in the halls only a few short centuries ago, Alia. Time passes, it's true, but people do not forget."

"Not most, at least," Alia agreed, and at last bowed, ever so slightly. "My congratulations on your coronation, Empress. Pity it was such a bittersweet thing."

Daren raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, and Alia winced. She always looked like Gillian when she did that. Daren sighed, recalling, and gazed at her old friend steadily. True, she had always been far closer to Gillian than to Alia, but one could hardly befriend one twin without befriending the other. "To tell you the truth I'd be just as happy without this damned job, but I'm told someone has to do it, and my father and siblings both seem to have perished in the fighting."

"Pity," Alia said, though it wasn't. Daren's father certainly would not be missed, and her siblings had been nothing but a menace for all the years they'd been alive.

"At any rate," said Daren, "here's about where we are. Most of our best people are dead or missing, the rest are running, although I couldn't quite say from what. The citizens, perhaps, who seem to have taken my father's death as occasion for celebration. Not that I entirely blame them, of course, but I can't say that, now can I?"

"You could," Alia said, thinking how she hated small talk and barley tolerated Daren even after all these years, "you'd just better not."

"Ah, too true." She paused. "What of your group? Any word yet?"

Alia shrugged. "I spoke to Brakiss some time ago, and I gave him my list. There were heavy casualties, of course, and I've not been here in so long I don't know who's still around, but he'll get as many as he can, and find competent replacements for the rest. I also happened across a data tech with a bit of promise, and so arranged for him to meet us as well. The numbers should be sufficient, if nothing else."

"Will it be enough, though?" Daren asked.

"I just don't know."

Alia's team, a mixture of her original choices and Brakiss' second picks, their assignments completed and provisions collected, gathered in the library exactly on time. Among them was Dawson Tell, with the data files she had requested. She thanked him and added the cards to her collection, then called the meeting to order and spelled out for the others what she had.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she said, and as she spoke these first words every eye in the room was upon her, "you are here because we have a problem, as I'm sure most of you are aware. This problem requires a solution, and under the circumstances I think I've the best one we're going to come up with in the little time allotted to us."

"Understood by all, I think," said Brakiss. "With respect, though, we don't have a lot of time to spare, so if you could get on with things-?"

Alia nodded. "That said. Brakiss is second, and I'm going to ask him to call the roll- quickly, Brakiss - so that I can see who's here and what we have to work with."

Brakiss stepped forward, data pad in hand. As he called the names of those assembled, explaining their roles in the team, and the assignments they had already completed, Alia listened with only half a mind on what he was saying. Her thoughts kept returning, despite her best efforts, to the fate of her sister. It seemed such an impossible thing, to believe that she was truly gone.

The dark fabric of her cloak pooling around her, Gillian Skywalker kneeled beside her uncle, whom for decades the Empire had called Lord Vader, but who to her had always been Anakin Skywalker. Her garments were soaked with blood, not all of which was her uncle's, but Gillian stubbornly pushed aside concern for her own injuries as she attempted to tend her uncle's. He tried to push her away, but he was hardly strong enough to make more than a token gesture.

"Hold still, damnit," Gillian said.

"No. You can't save me, and you know it."

"I know no such thing. Now hold still," said Gillian rather imperiously, her heart pounding, for she knew, despite what she said, that he was right.

"You're hurt, girl."

"I know, Uncle. I'll take care of it later."

Anakin took her hands, bruised, battered, and bloody, in his own. "Listen to me, girl. You must do something for me."

"Name it," Gillian said, keenly aware of each raspy, trembling breath he took. Just do it quickly, she thought, and could not bring herself even to feel guilty for the thought. That he was dying was obvious; she wondered if he knew it.

"Find my son."

She winced. "Oh, Uncle... No."

"Find him."

Gillian shook her head. "Uncle-"

"Don't fall victim to Palpatine's traps, girl. Do it."

"Uncle Anakin, I..."

"Palpatine won't be troubling us again, I've seen to that. But Jade lives still, and I don't know what instructions he gave her. He will want revenge upon the Skywalker line, however."

"Mara wouldn't betray me, Uncle."

"So sure of that, are you? Just the same, be careful. And don't underestimate the boy, either."

An explosion rocked the deck below them, sending Gillian tumbling away from Anakin and into the nearest wall. She lay there dazed for a moment, and then remained still and silent, watching as the Son of Skywalker approached the old man.

"Father," said the boy, and Gillian bit back a snarl of rage, for if anyone had the right to address him as such, it would be she and her sisters, not this upstart, arrogant, useless twit.

"Father," he said, "come with me."

"No." Anakin's voice was weak, and yet the word was somehow spoken strongly.

"But, Father-"

Gillian heaved a weary sigh, and climbed unsteadily to her feet, the deck still shuddering slightly beneath her boots. "Oh, shut up, already."

He stared at her, mouth hanging open, shocked as if he'd seen a ghost, and she shoved him aside almost absentmindedly, kneeling oncemore at her uncle's side.

"Uncle," she said. "I-I would like you to come with me. But I won't ask you."

The old man nodded. "My niece is wiser than my son, it seems."

"You're-" Luke started.

"Quiet," Gillian snapped. Then she spoke softly, "Uncle, you know this is foolishness..."

"Foolishness would be for you to stay and attempt to talk sense into me, child. It won't work, and I'm beyond your abilities to heal or to help." He paused. "Help me take this mask off, my child, that I might look on you both with my own eyes."

As Gillian reached out with trembling hands to remove the mask, she found Luke suddenly in her way. Furiously she pushed him aside. "No," she said sharply. "Be gone."

"But, he'll die-"

"Go, I said!" Fool, she thought, furiously. Does he truly think that I don't know that? But he is dying, and even I cannot save him...

Luke turned away, and, hands still trembling, Gillian reached out and removed the mask. It came free with the soft hiss of air breeching the seals, and even through the pain she knew he must be feeling, Gillian saw her uncle draw in a deep breath, and sigh.

"Even the smoke...smells so sweet," he whispered. "Even these breaths which will be the death of me are... wondrous. Thank you, my child, for this... gift."

Tears clouding her vision, she leaned forward and kissed his forehead, then drew back and gazed upon the face she'd not truly seen in nearly a decade. "Uncle..." she said softly. "Oh, gods... I- I love you."

The old man smiled. "I know, child. And I loved you. But never..." He gasped, and she moved forward to help him, but he waved her off. "No, there's nothing to be done for it now, my girl... Never enough. Never enough, not either of you. Luke?"

"I'm here, Father," Luke said.

"Come closer, both of you; let me see you." Gillian drew closer, and he kissed her cheek. "You are so...beautiful, my child. So beautiful... And what's this? It's raining."

And she, struck suddenly by the horror of that, moved to pull away, her tears falling still, but he drew her back. "No... it's refreshing, dear... It feels like freedom."

A moment later, he closed his eyes, and she knew that he was gone. She rose wearily to her feet, and moved to drape Anakin's cloak over his still body. That task done, she bowed her head silently a moment in a gesture of respect, then turned her back upon the scene and moved on.

She neither knew nor cared where Luke had gone, hoping only that he was dead. She made her way quickly towards the shuttle bay and raced towards the last remaining shuttle.

"Need a lift?" asked an agonizingly familiar voice, as if to taunt her.

She sighed. "I should just kill you now and take the shuttle myself."

"You don't have enough time."

"Care to make a bet, Son of Skywalker?"

He considered that a moment, and considered her. "On second thought, no. But there are two of us, and there's only one shuttle. I don't know you or what you've done, but I'd be willing to help you..."

"Save me the speeches. Can you fly, or shall I?"

He shook his head. "No, I can do it."

"Then do it, already." Gillian sat down in the copilot's chair, remaining silent as Luke piloted the shuttle away from the Death Star and towards the planet. As they approached the atmosphere, it was he who broke the silence.

"I'm Luke Skywalker."

"I'm well aware of who you are."

"I don't think I caught your name..."

"No. You didn't."

"Well..." He sighed. "I was just wondering. My father called you 'niece'. I suppose that makes you my cousin."

"Perhaps."

"I'm getting the sense, cousin, that you don't want to talk to me."

"Is that Jedi intuition, or are you actually that intelligent on your own?"

"Now, there's no need to get insulting, miss..."

"And why not? I do enjoy it so."

Luke paused, as the shuttle touched down in a clearing on the forest floor. "Listen, I need to be getting back to the Rebel camp, but there's something I've got to do first."

Gillian nodded, glancing at the mask of Darth Vader he now held in his hands. "I do hope you're not planning on saving that thing."

He shuddered. "No."

Gillian sat near to the fire, hugging her knees to her chest, and watched with something approaching exhausted calmness as the mask her uncle had once worn burned to ashes. She sighed. "I'm Gillian," she said at last. "Gillian Skywalker. I am your cousin by blood, but he was as much my father as yours, and to tell you the truth I think that I shall miss him more."

Luke turned to face her. "Well. It's a pleasure to meet you, Gillian. I don't think I will miss him, really, but... I am glad to have known him, as he was, beyond Vader."

"Even years after he'd taken that name, I refused to call him by it. I knew that the fire had changed him greatly, that he wanted all of us to be aware of that. But even so, I could never see Darth Vader as anything but a facade, a persona he hid behind. To me he was always Anakin Skywalker."

"You- loved him, didn't you?"

"He always told me that true love was a foolish thing, that it would not help me at all in life. But yes, I loved him; I could not help that."

"No reason you should have to help it," Luke said. "I guess I hated him and loved him, too. He was my father, but he worked so hard to destroy everything I knew... He hurt my friends..."

"Your friends, whom you should be getting back to. This is done, now." She gestured to the fire, slowly dying out, its task competed.

"I suppose. Come with me, cousin?"

She smiled sadly. "Where else have I to go?"

As they moved along the path leading to where Luke expected his companions to be, he glanced back over his shoulder, squinting to see his cousin in the fading light. She moved silently behind him, the hood of her cloak pulled up, casting her face into deep shadow. She seemed very like the Emperor in that moment, in the way that the cloak draped over her, and in the way that she stood.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing. You just- reminded me of someone I knew, once."

"I get that a lot," she replied quietly.

They neared the Rebels' encampment, and Gillian could hear in the distance the sounds of celebration; music, conversation, laughter. Overhead a flight of X-wings zipped by, trailing fireworks in their wake. Her heart cried out that it was blasphemy, this celebration, but she kept her peace. This was neither the time nor the place.

At last the path led them into the camp itself, and at its edge Luke paused, his eyes seeking out those he knew. The woman Gillian knew to be his sister moved forward to embrace him, followed by his friends. When the excitement of Luke's return had died down amongst them, he drew aside Leia Organa and Han Solo, and quietly said that he had someone he would like them to meet. The trio moved out onto the path, and Luke called out, "Gillian?"

Only the voices of the celebrants answered from behind, and the odd young woman he had briefly conversed with was nowhere to be seen.

Luke sighed. "She was here, a minute ago..."

"Who?" asked Han. "Who was here?"

"My cousin. Our cousin, Leia."

"You called a name," said Leia. "Gillian?"

"Yes. She said her name was Gillian... and I'd swear she was right behind me..."

"Maybe she didn't want to be found," said Han. With a shrug, he and Leia returned to the party. Han called over his shoulder, "C'mon, kid, we've got an appointment with a celebration here."

Luke followed them, although his mind was still on his cousin, and he puzzled over where she might have gone.

Several yards away, screened by the thick foliage and the darkness, Gillian clearly heard the trio approaching the path, and knew even before Luke called her name that she would not answer.

She had gone with him from the Death Star because she'd had little other choice, and had remained while the embers of the fire lingered because it had seemed the right thing to do, the better to honor her uncle's memory, and the way in which she would remember him. But with all of that past, she knew that it was past time for her to be moving on.

She made her way through the forest to what remained of the Imperial shield generator. It was little more now than still-smoldering ashes, and the crumbling framework of duracite structures, but it was enough to serve as a landmark. Standing amid the rubble, looking nearly as bloody and bruised as Gillian herself, was Mara Jade.

"Fancy meeting you here," Gillian said by way of greeting.

Mara turned and smiled slightly, recognizing Gillian's voice at once. "I was hoping you'd show up, old friend, although I couldn't have afforded to wait much longer. This place is practically crawling with Rebels."

Gillian sighed. "I don't suppose you have a working ship?"

"'Working' is a relative term, but I have a Skipray in reasonably decent shape. Better shape than the Death Star, at least."

"It was a fools' errand anyway," Gillian said. "And we both knew it."

"Still, neither of them would have died if not for-" Mara sighed. "You served your uncle, and I served the Emperor, both of us out of devotion and some sense of duty. And out of nowhere emerges the stupid child we should have been able to do away with in Anchorhead, to ruin everything." Mara sighed again. "I think it's over, Gilly."

But Gillian shook her head. "Not yet, it isn't. The Empire needs someone in power, that much is obvious; preferrably someone who knows what they're doing. And if there are any experts on matters such as the Imperial court still among the living... why, I suppose they'd be us."

"To Coruscant, then?" asked Mara.

"To Coruscant."

Moments later, the Skipray departed Endor, passing unseen beyond the Rebel fleet, and winking out like a star near first light, as it made the jump to hyperspace.

Author's notes: This is more an Alia story than a Gillian one, but it introduces a few of those Gillian knew as a child and as she grew to adulthood, and explains just a bit about her relationships with them. You may notice that Gillian's and Alia's younger sister is curiously absent from this. That would be because I actually began this story before the first one, 'Dark Beginnings', and the character of Sarah Skywalker hadn't been 'born' yet.

- C. A., 2000

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