Summary: While trying to get the location of the Rebel Base from Leia on the Death Star, Darth Vader gets more than he bargained for in a memory of her mother.

Note: When reading the chapter Leia remembers her torture on the Death Star in "Of Queens, Knights, and Pawns" by chancecraz (on A03) this popped into my head. Wasn't planning on tackling the torture scene until much later but here we are.

Some scenes and dialogue are borrowed from the 1976 script of A New Hope on .

PS: Thanks to all who left a comment! :D Glad to see all the Leia & Vader love.

...

Senator Leia Organa of Alderaan marched, head unbowed, out the charred entrance hatch to the Tantive IV. She paused momentarily at the threshold and breathed the crisp recirculated air of the Stardestroyer, a welcome change from the scorched interior of her ship. The nauseating stench of discharged blaster fire, charred flesh, melted plasteel and excrement had been nauseating. It had taken all of her strength to ignore the fallen soldiers that littered the corridors as she was brought before the Imperial in charge.

It appeared most of the crew had been killed.

A part of her had not been surprised to see the Imperial in question was Lord Vader, conferring with his officers. The attack that came without even a token offer of surrender had caught the whole bridge by surprise; secure in the belief that they had escaped the Empire's notice.

Speaking with Lord Vader, and not staring at the dead Alliance officers spread behind him, victims of his brand of interrogation, had been extremely difficult; A fate that could have been hers, if she wasn't a member of the Senate.

The only way she was keeping her sanity, and not letting fear overwhelm her, was in the confidence that they hadn't yet found the plans she'd hidden. And if they couldn't find the plans, then they just attacked a consular ship with no provocation. They didn't have a legal reason to keep her detained.

A small part of her was hopeful she'd be let go, if no evidence was found, a paltry cover story their only excuse for killing all aboard. Such blatantly false cover-ups only aided the Alliance in the long run, as people leaked the truth and exposed the hypocrisies of the Empire.

It was a small, faint hope. This was Death Squadron, Lord Vader's personal command; there would be no leaks from this ship.

"Get moving," a disdainful voice, one of her stormtrooper guards, ordered while nudging her sharply with his blaster. She grimaced and stumbled but managed to catch herself. As she was marched down the boarding ramp, she heard his hated voice echo out of the ship.

"Send a distress signal and then inform the senate that all aboard were killed!"

She clenched her fists. That the Empire even pretended the law was absolute and applied to all equally, was a joke. Especially when someone like Lord Vader could just do as he pleased.

Her escort of stormtroopers led her through the cavernous hanger. On the periphery, maintenance crews were working on various Tie Fighter models while a few shuttles were undergoing pre-flight checks.

As she looked around, she noticed that she couldn't see any other prisoners being taken off of the Tantive IV. Had they really killed all aboard except her? Not that they'd be able to tell the Empire much, as most of the crew had been Alderaani soldiers, unfamiliar with the current Alliance Base, but the Empire didn't know that. Somehow, had Lord Vader known that she was the only one worth taking alive?

The troopers marched her towards a corridor, heading deep into the belly of the ship. The walls were the typical featureless grey. A small mouse droid rolled past, the only distraction from her swirling thoughts on the long march.

In what felt like no time at all they reached the detention center, all hard black lines and backlit by a faint ominous red, and shoved her in.

Leia landed on her knees with a grunt, the door closing and locking with a sharp hiss. Looking around the tiny holding cell the reality that she was soon to be presumed dead by the rest of the Senate hit her. They wouldn't dare to treat with such disrespect otherwise. The tiny cell was a simple square with a drain in the corner. It didn't even have the semblance of a bed. If the other Senators knew this could also be their fate…

She chose the cleanest looking corner and sat down, knees against her chest and closed her eyes. If she was presumed dead, then they could do anything they wanted, there was no law protecting the 'dead' from interrogation. She took a shaky breath and swallowed down the fear that threatened. If she was lucky, and she could convince them she didn't know much of value, they'd simply execute her.

I'm sorry Papa, she thought, tears threatening, I failed you.

She shook her head and scrunched her eyes, forcing the tears back. No. She couldn't break down yet. There was still a long fight ahead of her and she would need all of her strength. She brought her knees down and entered a meditative pose.

She had been coached on how to resist interrogation, all high level members of the Alliance were, but Vader was in a league of his own. She'd heard horror stories of his tactics but had never seriously believed she'd ever be in this position. And she knew it would be Vader interrogating her, he was obviously personally leading the search for the Death Star plans.

Her only hope lay in her message being received, and that the droids were never found.

She did her best to clear her mind; going through the familiar exercises she'd been taught. Any moment now, Lord Vader could walk into her cell.

An unknown amount of time passed.

The wait in the holding cell slowly became excruciating.

That they hadn't taken her to an interrogation room yet must've meant they were still looking for the plans. She had hoped that if the Empire didn't find any evidence on the Tantive IV they'd think they had the wrong ship. But with Vader's legendary ability to follow leads, he must have figured out she put them in the escape pod. Nothing else made sense.

She had no sense of how long she'd been in here. They were barely feeding her, and when they did it was in irregular intervals, making it hard to measure time.

Calm was becoming more difficult to maintain, she wished they would just hurry up and get it over with. Vader's continued absence was both bolstering her hope and wracking her nerves, making the wait intolerable.

The transfer to the Death Star hammered home just how massive the battle station was. That a Stardestroyer could sit comfortably in a hangar, and in what looked like one of many, was staggering. Never mind the rumoured firepower it contained, there had to be enough stormtroopers and equipment to invade a whole planet!

Now more than ever, she was resolved. If Vader hoped to break her spirit in a show of the Empire's might he was sadly mistaken!

There was one other fact she noticed on the long march. No other prisoners were transferred, she was truly alone.

Princess Leia Organa, officially 'deceased' Senator, sat stoically on what passed for a bench in her cold little cell. The interrogation ward was kept at a low temperature; she'd spent the last few hours on the edge of shivering. She clenched and unclenched her hands, waiting. Within her, she focused her mind on nothing, repeating over and over who she was and what her mission had been. She was a member of the Galactic Senate on a diplomatic mission from Alderaan.

Soon, she somehow knew, soon Darth Vader would come interrogate her. The waiting was over.

She started slightly as the entrance to her cell opened with an ominous hiss. She forced her hands to unclench and stared defiantly as Darth Vader, torture droid in tow, entered her cell. Two stormtroopers took up position on either side of the entrance.

"Now Your Highness, we will discuss the location of your hidden Rebel base." He threatened, door closing and sealing her in with him.

Fear began to rise, her earlier determination beginning to crumble, as reality once again asserted itself. The torture droid gave off a steady beeping-whirring sound, hypodermic needle at the ready.

Already, she could feel the darkness of the room closing in on her, the lack of space to move suffocating. Lord Vader stood there, hands on his belt, observing her. She jutted her chin up and tried to return the stare as defiantly as she could manage, blinking rapidly to clear the intruding darkness from her vision.

His black helmet tilted, as if considering something, and then ordered, "Proceed," waving the droid forward.

She did her best not to move as the droid floated uncomfortably close, unable to stop herself from leaning back slightly. A hatch opened and a claw, quick as a snake, shot out and latched onto her arm. She was unable to tear her eyes away as the hypodermic needle extended towards her.

She didn't know what was in it, but she desperately didn't want to find out. In her peripheral vision, she noticed her hands were beginning to shake, betraying her fear.

There was a sharp prick of pain. She steeled herself for what was to come: pain, numb uncaring, a talkative high, all were potential outcomes of the drug.

A wave of dizziness assaulted her; her vision and focus beginning to blur. Her awareness of the whirring torture droid receded. The dark shape of Lord Vader moved towards her, arm extended. She swayed, no longer able to hold herself up. A black gloved hand, stark against the white of her shoulder, eased her down.

The haziness stayed with her when her head hit an unforgiving surface. Darkness overcame her vision.

In the distance, she could hear someone begin to shriek. Under that high pitched sound, the loud, unvarying sound of Vader's breathing, regular as a metronome.

The moment seemed to stretch forever, the scream unending. She could barely focus on who she was, where she was, anymore. A voice broke through the noise: demanding, coaxing, and ordering.

What is the location of your Base?

The sound reverberated through her, overwhelming all other thought. She tried to shy away from it, knowing she couldn't obey. But everywhere she turned; there it was, demanding an answer.

What is the location of your Base?

The more she tried to run, the more hurtful and insistent it became, flashes of pain, of her own agonized screams, assaulted her. She knew it was imperative she didn't answer, but the drug made it difficult to remember why. She wanted the voice to stop hounding her, for the pain to stop.

Eventually, unable to stand anymore, she tried to give it an answer, anything to make it go away.

It's on Coruscant, she thought, only to be viciously swatted down.

The Base, give it to me. Impatience began to rise in the dark voice, their annoyance at not receiving an answer immediately plain. A kind of pressure kept increasing, driving her to towards the truth.

Getting desperate, she pictured the next place that came to mind, not letting herself think of the true meaning of the demands; the Royal Palace on Alderaan, resplendent on a sunny day, a safe base to always come home to.

She whimpered as the image was shredded, pressure and panic building in her mind as the voice growled, Your Base!

Perhaps it was the emphasis on 'your', or it could have been the genuinely terrifying, deep voice, hemming her in, or the desire to get away from the pain, to hide in a place no one could find her, but a memory bubbled up. It was a strong memory, one from happier times.

Back when she still had a mother.

...

"Leia! Where are you little one?" A melodic female voice called. Leia crossed her arms and frowned down at her crossed legs.

She was in her secret place, a dry alcove beneath the roots of a great tree on the edge of the palace gardens, grown wild. She was sitting on a blanket she'd smuggled in, along with some of her favorite, forbidden, toys. In her clenched fists was a makeshift wooden sword, the reason she was hiding.

She'd been watching the palace guard training, copying their movements with her sword. She'd skipped her etiquette lesson -because what was the point of such boring classes! - when she'd caught sight of her adopted father, an angry frown on his face, looking for her. He spotted her before she could find something to hide behind. He'd shouted at her and, knowing she was in deep trouble, she'd run to her safe place, her secret base, to hide the sword.

"There you are, Leia." A relieved voice said, parting the curtain of vines to reveal her mother's concerned face, kneeling in the dirt.

She looked tired and worn, as she often did these days, and when her eyes landed on the sword clutched in Leia's small hands, her face morphed into complete sorrow.

Tears sprang to Leia's eyes and she cried, "Mama—

...

No.

The dark, angry voice was back, breaking her out of the treasured memory.

That's… that's impossible.

The pain-pressure on her mind receded, and with it some of the hazy, drugged confusion that had clouded her mind.

She was in an interrogation room, with Darth Vader, he was the voice, and he'd just reacted to the memory of her mother… her secret mother!

Alarm shot through her, impossible to hide from him.

Who was that! He demanded, and she heard a distant shriek again. If it was something he wanted, she refused to give it to him!

A black rage brought darkness to her mind once again, smothering her. It was difficult to breathe. The image of her mother, in that moment, rose up once more, unbidden.

A screeching crash, a harsh mechanical squeal, broke through the darkness.

Then silence.

The voice, and the associated dark pressure, was gone. She could breathe again. She took a moment to sigh, grateful for the relief. But the danger had not yet passed, as badly as she wanted to believe it had. The desire to know what was happening gave her a small boost of energy.

Grimacing, Leia slowly opened her eyes, her whole body sore and sensitive to the slightest movement. Groggily, she frowned at two white shapes collapsed on the ground. Next to them, in multiple pieces, lay the shattered remains of a droid. Exhaustion weighing her down, at first she didn't register the dark shape, clenched fists shaking.

She squinted up at Vader, not understanding what she was seeing.

In a blink, what seemed from one moment to the next, he was kneeling before her –too close! - and she flinched violently away, whimpering at the pain that shot through her.

He reached out a hand, almost (she swore her mind was playing tricks on her) hesitantly. She stared at it fear, waiting for the pain to start again, for the darkness to descend, for the voice to chase her through her memories, when it clenched into a fist, and disappeared from view.

He said something, but her ears were full of cotton, and all she could make out was a deep rumble that vibrated in her chest. She blinked, mind starting to go fuzzy once more.

He stood and turned, as if to leave, but paused at the collapsed white shapes.

Stormtroopers? She frowned down at the white forms, trying to force her brain to make sense of what she was seeing.

She started and curled into herself as something warm was suddenly laid down over top of her, black gloves far too close. As the black shape, Vader her mind tried to insist, pulled away her eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the scratchy blanket. However, the warmth was welcome in the cold cell, and helped tight muscles begin to relax.

Just as her eyes were falling shut, exhaustion weighing them down, she heard Darth Vader's deep baritone hiss.

"They will pay dearly for this."