Author's note : Hi people! I think it's plain by now that I can't write a proper summary, but I still apologize for this one. To be completely honest, this has been on my tumblr for a while but I couldn't come up with a title (not that this one is satisfactory but I had to pick one at some point (consider it a 'working title')), so I waited a little to post it. Fair warning: this is crack (the temporary title was 'bodyswap AU', if this is any indication) and will quickly deviate from canon. (This leads me to the usual disclaimer : I don't own Star wars or its characters, but you had already guessed that). Save for the first chapters, the updating schedule will be very random, and rating may (or may not) go up. Now, on with the story.

Following the kid in that temple had seemed like a good idea at first. Of course, as it often was the case, the keyword there was 'at first'. They were several meters under the surface now, yet she could hear the storm raging above her head, the ghostly sound of wind whistling inside the cave. As if being stranded in the middle of Rebel territory wasn't risky enough, they were now groping their way through the crumbling maze of its underground galleries, lit only by Vader's lightsaber and the eerie light of Beetee's eye – and, truth be told, she was enjoying every second of it. Of course, Aphra was the only one groping, since the droids' sensors didn't require much light to function and Vader… well, she didn't quite know how he got by. Perhaps he was using the Force, or perhaps his helmet had some kind of low-threshold sensors as well. Either way, the dark didn't seem to bother him.

Aphra took her hand off the wall and followed the red glow, picking up the pace in an attempt to keep up with Vader, and nearly tripping over as she stubbed her foot against what felt like stone rubble.

"Kriffing stones…" she grumbled, trying – and failing – to kick the stone aside.

"That, Doctor, was my foot."

"Oh… uh… I'm sorry. It's really dark in here. Did I hurt you?"

"No," came his grouchy reply.

"Cool. Let's… pretend I didn't do that." She paused for a second before she spoke again. "Hey, you know what I was thinking? this place gives me goosebumps. I love it. It's like we're about to meet a ghost or something."

Ironic that she'd say that, Vader thought, trying to ignore the voices ringing in his head.

"We most definitely have," he agreed.

"Wow! Really? Are they pissed?" He could nearly sense her eyes rounding with disbelief as she stopped in her tracks.

"Probably," he answered laconically, gesturing for her to keep walking – even if he doubted she could actually see his hand moving.

"Hm… okay? That… doesn't seem to concern you?"

"What I'm concerned about is finding the boy. I know he's still in here."

"Uh, if you say so… Where are we going exactly?"

"To the archives," he said as they took a left turn, entering a wider gallery. If the boy was looking for holocrons, as Vader assumed he was, it was the logical place to look first – not to mention the gut feeling that he was indeed getting closer.

Though he was not familiar with this particular temple, he was fairly certain they were on the right way. The voices grew louder with every step he took, reaching their full nuisance potential when he stopped before the massive door at the end of the corridor. His ears started buzzing as the voices surged up, clamoring and mingling in a cacophony of frantic whispers and pained screams, as if purposely trying to overwhelm his senses. Almost as if the ghosts were warning him away from something. Or someone. One voice in particular caught his attention. A voice he remembered far too well.

…The very thing you swore to destroy... I will do what I must… don't try it!... you were the Chosen One!

Ah. Kenobi. Or at least what little was left of him. He was there too. And by the sound of it, he did not want Vader to go through that door. All the more reason to push forward. What could Obi-Wan do about it, anyway? Lecture him? Play on his guilt? Vader was not impressed so far. More powerful than I can possibly imagine. Is that so, old man?

Ignoring the admonitions of his former mentor, Vader grabbed the handle and pushed the door open, revealing a large, barrel-vaulted aisle, lined with several rows of stone shelves, filled with glowing cubes and cones, with a depleted datapad here and there.

Aphra peeked inside the room and decided that it was safe to follow him inside, taking slow, unusually careful steps down the main aisle. It wasn't long before Vader froze on the spot and she could only assume that he, too, had caught sight of the shadow browsing through the shelves. The silhouette, she suspected, was that of the boy they had been looking for. Yet, she didn't manage to catch a better glimpse, for the shadow started and made a dash for the door, causing several artifacts to shatter on ground. Before either of them got a chance to catch up, an intense silver flash flared up before her eyes. There was no sound. No blast. Just the thud of her back slamming against the floor as her body was tossed next to Vader's black mass. Then a complete blackout.

Without opening her eyes, Aphra stirred a little and realized that she was still lying on the hard ground. Judging by the overall soreness of her body, the impact had been brutal. How long she had been out was a mystery, yet she wondered if she had received some kind of first aid, for, if she was to be honest, she smelled like a blasted medcenter. She didn't know if Vader had been knocked out as well, but she noticed that his breathing was loud – louder than ever – which meant he must have been close, and yet she didn't feel the usual ebb and flow of his respirator.

"Urgh… I feel like sh*t" she groaned, failing to rub her closed eyes as her hand encountered a hard surface instead.

"Wait a minute…" she paused, surprised by the deep rumble that had just escaped her mouth. "That's not my voice!"

Her eyelids jolted open at the realization. She quickly propped herself on her elbows, ignoring the dull pain she felt above both joints, and the sight before her nearly caused her heart to stop. It took her several seconds to finally put her thoughts into words :

"Uh… Why are you red? Why are you me?"

Vader jolted awake and blinked in surprise at the sound of his own voice, and for once he, too, remained dumbfounded by what he heard and saw. The question caused him to look down at his feet or rather… Aphra's feet? He was too confused to make sense of any of this, too stunned by the abundant input of his senses – Aphra's senses, from the feel of chilly air on her skin to the fruity taste of her lips. He brought a hand – an ungloved, flesh hand – to his face, and couldn't help but notice how soft it was compared to his own withered skin. His gaze stopped on the nearest shelf, caught by the mesmerizing glow of the holocrons and all those bright hues that had slowly washed away from his memory. He didn't, however, linger much on those thoughts, for he was beginning to feel dizzy, and suddenly realized that he had forgotten something: breathe. How could he not have breathed yet, he who had craved such freedom for the past two decades? He took a deep, forceful breath, filling his healthy, unburned lungs with the stale, dusty air of the temple. He didn't mind the dust. He wouldn't mind swallowing sand if it meant breathing freely again. For the first time in a long while, Vader felt good. Until the rush of oxygen produced its sobering effect, and realization dawned upon him: he could not stay that way. It was unreasonable. Impossible. Unthinkable. He had to be Darth Vader if his plans were to succeed. Whatever had happened needed to be undone, for both their sakes. He looked at her and took another breath, now fully aware that he would, sooner or later, have to renounce those again.

"I believe we have a problem, Doctor."