Her mind started racing. Skywalker. Like the kid they were after. At first, Vader's quest had seemed rather futile to her, a matter of law enforcement at best : Luke Skywalker was just a kid with a lucky shot. Not a bright one at that. But now… stars. She was a dad.

The sight of the Jedi taking a step towards her, lightsaber still in hand, shook her out of her thoughts.

"Wow wow wow!" she exclaimed, springing out of the bed. " Turn that thing off, will you?"

The woman cast her a puzzled look. Vader may have phrased things a little differently. She straightened up and cleared her throat, attempting to regain a facade of composure.

"We do not need to be adversaries," she added with a slight nod.

The woman's grip tightened around her lightsaber, and for a split second Aphra thought she was about to strike her down. Her shaking intensified.

"Don't…" the woman warned her.

"Don't what?"

"You know full well what I'm talking about!"

"I… I don't." It was the truth.

"Don't play dumb with me, Anakin!"

"I'm not! And that is not my name."

For a second, Aphra wondered if she had revealed too much. But she suspected Vader would have denied it too.

"Oh, no. Not this again!"

"Not WHAT?" Aphra burst out.

"Is this all a joke to you?" the woman snarled. "Have you got any idea what you did to me? How long I remained trapped inside that Sith temple, with nothing but rats and dark spirits? Have you got any idea, how you've haunted my nightmares with that eerie, ugly mask of yours, or what I had to…"

Aphra raised an index in objection.

"That was rude," she cut her off. The jedi blinked in surprise.

"What the… Did you just try to lecture me on my manners?"

"Maybe? Look. I don't know what I'm doing, what I've done or what you want. All I know is you're freaking me out and I have no idea why you're here." The words had flown out of her mouth in a panicked stream, each one bumping into the next.

The woman took a deep breath, hooking her saber to her belt. She took a step forward, a second and a third, until she was standing right in front of Aphra.

"I'm here because I know my master's still in there."

A nervous laugh escaped Aphra. Poor girl.

"Well…"

The fresher door came open, and Vader stepped out… in nothing but a towel. The jedi's jaw dropped. Her eyes went back and forth between the two of them.

"You… she… are you…?"

Aphra considered pretending. It would be wiser. Safer. And perhaps a bit of an indulgence.

Vader squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. First his name and now her. Apparently, the Force was in a rather foul mood, and had decided to work it off by throwing it all in his face. Memories of his past, of his crimes, of the man he once was, plaguing him, poisoning him, and now all but laid bare for the Doctor to see. Perhaps he had brought it upon himself. Learning about the boy had been the first dent to the dam, and his admittance to Aphra - his stupid, blasted name - had only widened the breach. Now the waters of his past ran wild and uncontained, colliding and mixing in a maelstrom of remembrance. Anakin Skywalker. Darth Vader. Were they one and the same? He didn't know anymore. He didn't want to know.

"Ahsoka…" The word made the girl's eyes pop.

Vader sighed.

"How do I even explain this…"

Aphra came forward.

"Let me help. I'm her. She's me… or rather, I'm him and he's me. It's a little confusing. My name's Aphra. Doctor Aphra."

Ahsoka blinked, frozen in place.

"How?"

"A Jedi holocron on Vrogas Vas. That damn Rebel kid dropped it and bam! We body-jumped," Aphra explained, slamming a fist into her palm.

The jedi plopped down on the bed, looking down at the floor.

"Suggestions are appreciated," Vader said.

"Suggestions, eh? No 'hi', no 'sorry'. 'Suggestions'. "

"I have nothing to be sorry about." That was a lie. But marooning her on Malachor had been mercy. And weakness.

"It's not just Malachor, you know. It's all those years you served the Empire. It's all that smoke rising from the Temple, all that pain tearing through the Force when you slaughtered them all. For each master you took out, how many children died? I didn't know, then. I didn't know it was you. I blamed myself when I found out. I still do. But I miss you."
A tear rolled down her cheek. Vader looked away.

"Then you are a fool."

"Oh, I am," she smirked. "I learned from the best. Now here's the deal : you don't turn me in, you don't murder me, and in exchange I'll do what I can to help you get your body back. Doctor Aphra here may not want to remain the emperor's lapdog forever. And since you've already messed up the galaxy… I really don't see how you could still make things worse. Not that I'm not hoping to change your mind in the process."

Oh, he didn't doubt it for a second. But she would fail, that much he knew.

"I have chosen my path. I am in control."

That was a lie too, a blatant one at that. Ahsoka looked him up and down.

"Oh, I see that," she scoffed. "And how are things working out, so far?"

It was Aphra who answered her.

"How does it look?" She turned to Vader. "Look, boss, I'm sorry but being you sucks. And if the jedi wants to help I'm not about to say no."

Vader exhaled loudly. What would he not have given to never face his apprentice again, to forget everything, up to her very name? But Aphra was right. The longer they remained trapped, the more likely it was for his master to find out. Her offer of assistance was not entirely unwelcome.

"Agreed."

Ahsoka sighed in relief. The next thing he knew he was being squeezed into a forceful hug.

"Hey Skyguy?" Vader glowered at her. "You're tiny."


The Ark Angel had landed on Mustafar, and the moment Aphra stepped out she instantly felt the heat emanating from the lava flow beneath the platform. The fortress stood alone on the barren wasteland, a stark, dark monolith above hot, molten rock. It was a dour, forbidding place. Not unlike its owner, when she thought about it.

They entered a bare, empty hangar dominating the lava river, and a pale, hooded man crept out from who knew where, his steps completely silent as he made his way to them. He bowed without a sound. Aphra even wondered if the man was breathing.

"My Lord," came his hushed greeting. His eyes darted quickly between the three of them, betraying his bewilderment. "My ladies."

Aphra was about to greet him back, but realized she didn't know his name. She settled for a brief nod and gestured at the droids.

"Take those droids to maintenance," she said, eliciting an enthusiastic beep from Beetee.

"Very well, My Lord. Should I ready a bacta tank as well?"

"I shall see to it myself. Leave us."

The man left the hangar with the droids in tow.

"Such a cozy little house. Does the whole staff capes?" Ahsoka said when the door closed behind him.

"There is no 'staff'. Only Vanee."

Ahsoka and Vader spent the rest of the day cooped up in the library. None of them spoke a word. Meanwhile, Aphra suffered.

The procedure was indeed, as Vader had mildly put it, unpleasant. The bacta had provided some degree of relief, but now she had to get out. Appendages caught her, and the tank drained itself, descending into the floor. Aphra gritted her teeth, forcing herself to hold still as her limbs were plugged back into place. Sudden input raced up her nerves, and a whimper escaped her. The droids put her down. Done, at last. They hadn't gone easy on her, and she would have to check a few screws, but she was alive, clean and uninjured. Or rather, as uninjured as she could be, she thought as she looked at herself. Her gaze trailed up the length of her arms, gray metal giving way to muscle and scar tissue. There was a metal box grafted to her sternum, branching out to the sides for electrodes to connect. But her medical record had more than satisfied her technical curiosity, and so her eyes lingered elsewhere. The appearance of the Dark Lord was anything but banal. She was a mess - that was beyond question - but a shapely one. Her abdomen was taut, her shoulders wide and square, and steel blue eyes looked back at her from the reflective surface of her fingertips. And after what she had been through, well… focusing on the upsides couldn't do any harm. It was at that moment that the door slid open, and Darth Vader caught her gaping.

"I suppose apologies are in order," he said, not quite meeting her gaze.

Aphra narrowed her eyes.

"What for?"

"For the embarrassment my entrance may have caused." He paused, biting his lips. "And for the view."

Aphra smirked.

"Why? The view's not bad," she said with a wink.

Vader snorted.

"Do you expect me to believe that?"

"Why not? A dish is a dish, no matter the cooking."

Vader's face turned crimson. Under normal circumstances, she would have feared for her windpipe, but as it was, the Sith Lord was pint-sized, unable to use the Force, flustered and confused.

"Aphra, please…"

Alright then, mostly confused. Shocked, maybe.

"I… I didn't mean to say that. That part about the cooking."

Vader nodded silently.

"So," she said, contorting to pull her zipper up, "how did that research go? Did you find anything?"

"Save for a holonet story about that Sith Lady who tied her spirit to a broom?"

"Damn. That'd make a hell of a movie. Tell me you never tried that."

"Can we please have a semblance of an adult conversation? "

"Fine. Did you bring the shiny-breaky-holo-thingy?" she asked, shoving her helmet on.

"Holocron," he corrected, handing her the small pouch in which he carried the debris. She spread the pieces on the medical table and began going through them. A polished, nail-sized chip caught her attention, its center occupied by a blurred engraving. Her index traced the groove, mechanically following the all-too-familiar pattern. Her father had spent years bending over such markings, scouring the Outer Rim for whatever might lead him to his fabled Fortress of Garn. Had it not been for that symbol, her mother would still be alive. Aphra swallowed hard.

"I know someone who might help. "