Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I appreciate it more than you know. You guys are awesome. :)

And now, on with the story. This is a chapter that bounces around between many viewpoints, and (hopefully) the plot thickens...


CHAPTER SIX

After a walk blissfully unencumbered by security checkpoints (Vader simply nodded at the security guards who gulped while saluting), Lord Vader and Padme Naberrie returned to the quiet, cool halls of the Senate Building. The hum of speeder traffic and the buzz of conversation was distant and muffled; they were almost alone in the midst of a hurricane of life forms. The fork in their paths came too quickly.

Padme stared down the corridor that would lead her back to Bail's office if that's where she wished to go. She did, after all, have the rest of the day off. The hallway loomed and she could feel the calm and the colors that had surrounded her in the museum swirling away from her and draining into it. She felt cold.

Observing her tiny shiver, Vader finally broke the impassive silence that had settled over them. "You don't have to go back yet."

"What?" said Padme distantly, shaking off her dark visions in order to meet his eyes. They regarded her with laser-like intensity. "Wait for me," he continued after a moment. "I will take care of things here, and we can continue our conversation. Are you hungry?"

"Yes," Padme answered honestly, before she had time to consider whether a lie would be more prudent. It was a habit she had incurred in his presence, and it alarmed her. Diplomats knew the value of words and the value of controlling them. She winced at herself, trying for a blank face.

Vader didn't look at her false expression; he studied her eyes. "Good," he replied. "We will eat shortly. You may wait in my office if you wish." He gestured for her to precede him down the corridor running away from the Alderaanian offices. Her eyes traced the sleek paneling and blank walls that led to Lord Vader's office. The light seemed brighter down that way. Holding on to the warm feeling in her chest like a lifeline, she stepped ahead of Vader and together they walked to his office.

With a few quick words and a promise to hurry, Lord Vader left Padme in his cavernous office alone. The silence was pressing in so large a room - she was almost afraid to speak lest her voice echo. The office was richly furnished but sparsely decorated, only a model of some sort of TIE fighter adorned the broad desk, which was mostly covered in holodiscs and flimsiplast documents. The most beautiful feature of the room was the great window-wall that curved around the rear of the office, letting in a flood of natural light and a breathtaking view of the cityscape on the horizon. The spires of Coruscant glittered distantly and Padme moved forward until her fingers were pressed against the transparisteel, trying not to smudge the surface as she craned to see as far as she could. It was beautiful. What a view he had...

She glanced behind her at the office that was almost empty of personal touches. She turned to run a finger over the wing of the TIE model resting on his desk - the only personal artifact she could see. Just who was this man, this Lord Vader? It was possibly too late to be wondering that, since he seemed so bound and determined to spend time with her... and she seemed incapable of refusing such time. She frowned at herself and turned back to the window-wall. The sunlight was beginning to slant a little lower through the forest of skyscrapers.

The doors hissed behind her and she almost felt Lord Vader's peculiar energy enter the room. "Now that that unpleasant business is out of the way, shall we go to dinner, Milady?" He sketched a bow when she turned to him. As he straightened up, the failing sunlight glowed in his dark blonde hair and warmed his icy blue eyes. He was, Padme reflected distantly, strikingly handsome. She swallowed.

"It would be a pleasure, Lord Vader," she replied, and stepped forward.


Davlo Narik was under severe stress. Of course, with his job, he wasn't the slightest bit surprised; extreme stress was to be expected as a server in the highly prestigious Coruscant Skies Restaurant. He felt as though his feet had barely touched ground since he'd arrived for his day-long shift. The usual crowd of senators, representatives, planetary governors, and the upper crust of Coruscanti society were filling the tables and he could see that the foyer was filled with more patrons. On bad days, even a reservation didn't guarantee that you could avoid wait time. Just then, a harried-looking hostess led a uniformed man with a severe face toward the private rooms in the back. The uniform proclaimed that he was a Grand Moff. Davlo bit back a sigh. A Grand Moff would be one of the most powerful people in the galaxy, overseeing entire systems, and usually answerable only to the Emperor himself. And the super rich and ultra powerful never had to wait. He pulled his attention from the milling wait line and rushed to distribute his tray of drinks. He had at least ten tables of patrons and he was juggling several food and drink orders in his head-

"Davlo!"

The manager appeared beside him, catching his shoulder. Davlo groaned inwardly, hoping he hadn't made any mistakes or gotten a customer complaint... he couldn't afford to lose this job. Apartments on Coruscant weren't cheap, and he really didn't want to have to leave the Core systems and live with his family in the Outer Rim-

"Davlo, I need you. We have a... special guest."

Orders and drink requests and questions jumbled and crashed in his overtaxed mind and before Davlo could get a word out, the manager continued, a touch nervously, "Amie's not here. I need you."

Davlo's chest tightened and his heart pounded. Amie was the senior server and handled a very select clientele. A very powerful clientele.

A very dangerous clientele.

He swallowed. "Who?" he managed, finally.

"Lord Vader."

Davlo felt dizzy and every other thought tumbled from his mind. The sunlight streaming through the windows on every side suddenly felt too warm, and the scents of soup and meat and warm bread suddenly made him nauseous. He knew the stories about Lord Vader as well as anyone. He had seen Amie's face blanche on the rare occasions when Vader showed up in a dinner party of government officials. It was rare... but if Amie's reaction was anything to go by, it wasn't pleasant. He wished fervently he was anywhere but here.

The manager looked frightened himself, but he looked at Davlo with determination. Davlo collected his thoughts and took a deep breath. He couldn't afford to lose this job. "Okay," he said, wincing at the waver in his voice.

"Good," said his highly relieved manager, clapping him on the shoulder. "You get back there. I'll get someone to cover your section right away."

And he was gone.

Davlo's feet felt heavy as he wove through the sea of tables, brushing past very important people from all over the galaxy. He made it to the edge of the main dining room and followed the window-wall until he came to the door marked Private. He quickly scanned his senior employee ID card and stepped through when the door slid aside. He stepped into a hallway with deep, luxurious carpeting and paintings on the walls. The door closed behind him with a dull thud. He swallowed, still feeling slightly ill.

He forced himself down the hall, passing rooms on each side, some filled with small parties of government officials and some quiet and empty, until he came to the grand suite at the end of the hall. The door slid aside, and he forced his fear into the farthest corner of his mind and focused on keeping his voice from shaking.

"Welcome, Lord Vader," he began, relieved when he sounded almost normal. He moved closer to the table, which was a fair distance from the door, his steps silent on the plush red carpet. The room was elegant in the extreme, with gold gilding on every chair and gold filigree designs inlaid into every surface. The designs were all variations of the Imperial crest, of course. The table was made of dark wood, and the Imperial crest, a circle containing a six-pointed gear, gleamed against the wooden backdrop. The walls were a creamy color, but they were mostly hidden behind enormous canvases painted with scenes of the Empires greatest triumphs. Empire Day, the day of the Empire's birth, was especially prominent, being situated behind the head of the dining table. The painted version of Emperor Palpatine, holding his hands aloft and looking very noble as he addressed the Senate, was just over Lord Vader's shoulder. The Empire's second-in-command was seated tensely in the gilded chair, his elbows on the table, his fingers interlocked and his chin resting atop them. His brows were furrowed and his icy blue eyes were fixed on the only other person at the table, a petite brunette dressed in a style that Davlo thought might be Alderaanian. "Milord." Davlo drifted up beside Vader's chair and dipped his head in a respectful bow. "How may I serve you?"

It took Vader a moment to notice him, but when he finally spoke and ordered, he did so in a clipped tone and didn't look at him once. The woman glanced at her menu and ordered as well.

Davlo retreated with another bow. He gulped in a relieved breath when he finally made it back to the hallway. His forehead furrowed - who was the woman? He had never heard of Lord Vader coming here with a woman... he had never heard of Lord Vader coming for anything less than a government dinner party of the utmost import. He wasn't exactly the most sociable official in the galactic government. Davlo shook away the questions; he couldn't pause for long. He rushed off to the kitchens, forcing his thoughts to the far corner of his mind for later consideration. For now, he had to focus on surviving. He was going to oversee the preparation of this food himself. There would be no mistakes.

The next hour passed with torturous slowness, but Davlo's nerves calmed with every moment he spent in the private dining room. Lord Vader hadn't even noticed him. He didn't seem to be noticing anything except the woman whom he called "Padme." Davlo filed that information away. He was desperately curious about what was going on now - Lord Vader had barely stopped looking at her. Their conversation had been very quiet and had always stopped when he drew near with a drink or a plate of food, so he had no idea what they were saying. But it seemed like casual talk, and they even laughed once or twice. Lord Vader had laughed - he had to tell the rest of the staff about this.

The meal was wrapping up, and Davlo was bringing the final course of the meal, a very popular dessert that was a signature dish of their top chef. In just a few minutes Vader and his companion would leave and he could breathe without feeling like there was a bantha on his chest. Davlo couldn't wait.

He laid out the decadent dessert that looked as much like an art exhibit as an edible dish, and retreated to the corner until he was needed. They ate, chatting quietly and even exchanged a few smiles. Davlo puzzled over the girl's identity in silence.

He hurried forward a few minutes later when they finally stood, and brought the woman's cloak, holding it for her. Vader smoothly plucked it from his hand and held it for the woman himself. Davlo tried not to gawk. He must have failed, because Vader glared at him. Davlo swallowed and stared at the floor as he nervously wished them both a good day.

The woman fastened her cloak and moved toward the door with Vader. Her eyes trailed across the canvases on every wall. She stopped quite suddenly and leaned toward a landscape depicting a distant battle. She suddenly turned back to him. "Excuse me - can you tell me who painted these?"

Davlo started, but he had worked hard to know facts like these so he would look good when he had applied for this job. He smiled nervously, trying not to look at Lord Vader who had taken a step back in their direction. "Of course, milady. These paintings were commissioned from an artist named Palo Neruta."

Her eyes went wide and a tiny smile crossed her face. "From Naboo?"

"I believe so, milady."

"Thank you, Davlo."

Still smiling, she moved toward the door again, Vader standing aside for her and then following in her wake. Davlo saw him lean toward her and say something quietly. He could just catch her reply. "Yes, that was him earlier today..." They disappeared from sight.

Davlo stared after them. He had expected to feel relief, but he was much too distracted to think of that now. Because as the pair had left, Davlo had noticed something odd. The look on Vader's face when Padme spoke of Palo had been very like jealousy.

What in the galaxy had he just witnessed?


Lord Darth Vader wove his private speeder in and out of traffic lanes in frustration. The sun had set long ago, and the sky had come alive with the twinkling lights of speeders in every direction. This particular river of traffic was flowing at a maddeningly slow speed and he clenched his good hand, gritting his teeth against the delay. He needed to get to his private chambers to meditate.

The hazy peace of spending so long in Padme's presence had slowly faded away as his speeder pulled him further and further from her apartment. He felt the familiar tug of his duties to the Senate and the tingles of fear that stalked him every day that he continued planning to kill his master. With backbreaking weight, reality rushed in to fill the vacuum the young senator's assistant had left when she stepped out of his speeder. What was he doing?

Honks started somewhere up ahead as a speeder made a highly illegal maneuver to desperately flee the traffic jam. Vader sympathized entirely.

He couldn't control this ridiculous traffic anymore than he could control his own actions, it would seem. He had wanted to find out about this girl, that was all. And here he was, distracted by thoughts of her delighted expression when she talked of the Lake Country and her childhood. Such sweet memories for her... and now for him too. He knew nothing of that kind of childhood happiness (whispers of a memory surfaced: his mother kissing his cheek and bringing him scrap parts for the droid he was building... he pushed them aside).

Emotion, weakness, danger. That was the progression of things. Control was vital in dealing with emotions, and as he sat in the worsening traffic jam, glaring at the nearby speeder lights and distant stars beyond them, he knew he had none in this matter.

If he had a crippling defect, it was a lack of control. His fears had always been out of control and his every emotion burned until it incinerated him - a fact Palpatine encouraged to a point, but rebuked when it inevitably wreaked havoc. The only safe emotion was anger, for at least that could be translated into power through the Dark Side. Control. He could walk away from this, recognizing the mistake it already was, having led him to risk deceiving Palpatine... and recognizing the even greater mistake it would become if he were to continue.

This girl (images of sad brown eyes and the gentle, shapely planes of her face swam in his minds' eye and warmed him inwardly) had already distracted him enough. He could feel himself tipping on the edge of an abyss and he must step away now or risk destruction. He had his destiny to consider. The power he had fought and schemed and deceived for was finally at hand. If he could be patient and controlled just a little longer, he would have finally earned the right to be the guiding force in his own life, for the first time in his memory. He just had to walk away.

He grimaced and jerked the steering shafts of his speeder, tearing out into the empty space above in a very illegal and highly dangerous move. But the Force remained as placid as a still lake, whispering nothing to him of danger as he wheeled chaotically towards his home, so he pressed insistently on the accelerator as the engine whined.

He set the speeder down on the landing pad of his private residence and disembarked rapidly, powering down the speeder with a backwards pulse of the Force. Her smile and her laugh echoed in the hollow sounds of his footsteps and he hurried inside. He felt as though his conflicted thoughts would float away in the open air and Palpatine would perceive his weakness. The door slid closed behind him and he felt a fraction more secure... as though a door and a roof would stop his master's perception. As though anything would. He shivered and though of how he must kill Palpatine and free himself... but brown eyes and a warm presence kept distracting him. Why must everything be so difficult?

He shrugged off his heavy outer cloak and flung himself down in his private chambers to meditate. He felt himself drifting off to sleep after only a few moments. His thoughts clouded and relaxed and he realized through the haze that he did not dread the morning. A day full of dull duties, sycophantic senators, and the constant fear of Palpatine - but he felt nothing but anticipation for the coming day at the Senate... because that was where she would be. He smiled in his sleep.


Vader's home was part of the enormous complex that housed the Imperial Palace. It stood apart from the palace itself, shorter, plainer, but still palatial and imposing. Dark metals and sharp corners created an uninviting and even fearsome aspect to the structure, which was likely why Vader had chosen it to be his estate when the Sith monarchy of the Imperial Government had established itself.

But no one could ever know for sure, thought the cloaked figure from a ledge opposite Vader's landing pad. Lord Vader being as secretive and reclusive as he was, he never gave interviews or spoke publicly when he could avoid it. And given his reputation, most reporters and politicians were inclined to give him all the space he desired. The inky figure winced and rubbed absently at the phantom grip he suddenly imagined clamping around his throat. He knew what Lord Vader was capable of. He had found many a colleague dead with the telltale bruising around their throat, bruising that was distinctly free of fingerprints or any sort of hand marking... because Vader didn't even touch them. He shivered again, but suppressed it, glancing down to make sure his black clothing was still indistinguishable from the shadows around him. Satisfied, he raised his electrobinoculars and trained them on the door Vader had swept through moments before, focusing on the mission at hand: reconnoitering Lord Vader himself. It was risky business - the very riskiest in fact, with the highest mortality rate of any assignment he had ever seen. But one did not become a prized member of Palpatine's elite spies by indulging in squeamishness. He let the fear prickling at his neck float away with the next breeze and returned to his work.

Nothing. Vader was likely asleep for the night.

Shifting into a slightly more comfortable position, he slid a tiny datapad from one of his pockets and powered it on. A filtering screen kept the light from blazing like a beacon and giving his location away. He silently entered RETURNED HOME - 1100 into his chart and scrolled past the previous entries.

DINNER WITH PADME NABERRIE (ASSISTANT TO BAIL ORGANA OF ALDERAAN)

ATTENDED AN EXHIBIT AT THE IMA WITH PADME NABERRIE (ASSISTANT TO BAIL ORGANA OF ALDERAAN)

An interesting days' work indeed. Vader could be a boring detail (if you were able to escape his notice and survive long enough to get bored). He was a creature of habit and almost never deviated from his set routine of Senate meetings, scowling out his office window, meditation and lightsaber practice. It was as though he was purposely avoiding drawing attention, which was of course why Palpatine was having him watched. But today - today was different. Vader had seemed preoccupied for the last few days, and there were even rumors that he had attended the Imperial Opera, though no one could name his companion if there had even been one. He had discounted the rumor as ridiculous at first, but he had seen the evidence today with his own eyes. To all appearances, Lord Darth Vader seemed to be courting a woman. The overpowering shadows hid his derisive smile.

He was fortunate to be the one on duty on this historic day - the day Darth Vader detail became entertaining instead of the contradictory mixture of terrifying and boring. He scanned the report for mistakes one last time and pressed SEND. The report was away, and he would follow up with a personal report the next day. He was sure Emperor Palpatine would love to hear all of this. He smiled unseen in the darkness.