A/N: Wassup my friends? Greetings from your favorite fourteen year old writer.

Still.

So still it might have been dead. The only movement was the soft breeze ticking the lush grass, creating tiny waves in the the water resting in the scattered ruts in the ground. No life moved anywhere. Twisted trees, fallen, broken and destroyed lay flat on the ground. Gigantic cracks separated the land masses from each other. Bodies, half covered in mud, had been preened of any goods they had. The beautiful place was still so beautiful in a broken, desolate way.

Destruction.

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi stood on a large boulder, overlooking the destroyed battlefield. Dear force. How were they going to ever stop Vader?

Then came a heard Minese came scampering and bouncing out of the unaffected woods. The Jedi started, surprised at the sudden outburst. They came, skipping and jumping over all the war zone, their short, furry tails up like flags as they jumped flat out. There must have been a hundred of them, all racing across the battlefield, jumping across the large gaps with ease, streaking towards...him.

Obi-Wan was confused. Were these migrating minese? Where they being chased? Should he move out of the way? They slowed when they approached him, jumping from ledge to ledge on the large boulder, then hopping around him, nestling into the ground, and nuzzling around his boots. A few stood up on their hind legs, their noses twitching a mile a minute as they watched him expectantly. The others picked pieces of grass they found on the mossy rock, while others cleaned their faces with their soft paws. Some stretched out beside him to nap, content to sit next to his boots.

Apparently, they liked company.

Obi-Wan had never seen an minese besides as pets. Their large brown doe eyes were inquisitive and bright, and their nose were small, constantly twitching. Long ears, perked up at him, while the lazy sleepy ones ear's laid flat against their backs. The long back legs were obviously specifically made for jumping. Their fur appeared soft and thick, mostly for black and brown, and Obi-Wan was sure that the pelts had been used to make some rich woman's coat before.

Obi-wan slowly sat, trying not to startle them, although they came to him, looking at him like he was their master here feed them. They backed away a little, giving him space to sit down and stretch out. One he did, they immediately came back, a few hopping onto his lap to sleep.

Well.

Obi-Wan hesitantly began stroking one's fur, marveling at the softness of it. A few began sniffing his pockets. He smiled, pulling out some fruit that he had taken as a snack. He offered it to the little white one standing on his hind legs in front of him. It immediately took it, walking away with it, occasionally fighting off his squabbling friends until he had it a safe distance away, before nibbling away the entire palm sized fruit. After he finished, he stood again, wiping his face with his paws, and, clean, came back to Obi-Wan for more.

They seemed content to keep him company and let him pet them.

Obi-Wan turned is attention back to the battlefield. If only the Force would provide him with answers. He needed answers. The leaders of the Rebellion kept it secret from the rest, but it was only a matter of time before they found out that they didn't have much time. The Rebellion was dying. They didn't have the resources to keep going. Unless something happened soon, they would be over with.

The Force had promised an savior. One destined to save them. One to destroy the Sith, bring balance to the Force, and save the Galaxy. Or the prophecy had. For centuries, the Republic had stood, the Jedi standing behind it as the keepers of the peace. When Palpatine became Emperor, the mysterious dark force that had been working undercover surfaced, and Palpatine declared the Jedi as traitors. Vader destroyed all the Jedi temple, turning the clones against the Jedi, carrying out an sentence called Order 66.

How the Force had cried that day. The death of so many, magnified by the loss of so many force sensitives. Every force sensitive felt it, every tiny force being snuffed out, while the Dark Side grew, swelling with victorious triumph. He remembered that day well. The day that had haunted his nightmares for years.

Before, during Palpatine's rise to power and while the fogginess due to the Dark Side grew, the Jedi had already guessed that dark days had awaited them. And when Master Yoda had a vision about it, their suspicions were confirmed. The Jedi would fall. They began searching for something to prevent it, and that was when they found the prophecy, so old that they had nearly forgotten it. When the Force became completely unreadable and the entire of Coruscant became heavy and dark they knew another Sith had arrived.

It had been hope and inspiration to all of them. They searched everywhere for him, meditated endlessly, and begged the Force for answers. But then the Empire had come, and had stayed in place for four years. The majority Jedi had been destroyed. The Temples were gone. Vader had built his home on Coruscant. The Rebellion was nearly gone.

How long were they going to go on like this? How much longer could they go on like this?

Obi-Wan hardly believed that there was an 'Chosen One' after all. If there was, where was he? The entire Republic depended on him, and the Alliance was trying to hold off the Empire until he got here. But Obi-Wan had come to the place, that even if there was an such thing as a 'Chosen One', he couldn't sit back and wait for him to come rescue them. Just look were they were.

And what if the prophecy was misread? Or perhaps untrue? They'd have been sitting around waiting for something to come that wasn't coming.

The others didn't know, but the Council had mostly given up on the prophecy as well. They still spoke about it, but only as something to encourage the members of the rebellion that they had left. If they told them that the Chosen One didn't exist, they would lose all hope and the rebellion would be no more. But now the truth was nearly unavoidable.

That data chip was their last resort.

Truly, the fate of the Rebel Alliance rested in the hands of Padmé Amidala.

But for know, he they could do was hope, hope that somehow everything would work out.

It is only thing left for him to do.

Jāuhn walked into his apartment, happy that the day was done. Never again was he ever training with Vader. At least not for a while.

He immediately sought out his wife, walking towards the kitchen, guided by the sensational smells of cooking. Walking into the kitchen, he was greeted by the sight of his wife bent over the stove, checking...something...in the oven. Her long, thick, wavy black hair was smooth and shiny, braided into a plait, long enough to touch the back of her thighs when it was down. Her eyes were cobalt black, matching her hair, her lightly tanned skin spattered by tiny freckles almost unintelligible to the eye. She wore her favorite lounge clothes, one of Jāuhn's grey imperial shirts and some black leggings.

She turned after a moment, and was surprised to see him, not expecting him to be home early. "Jāuhn!" She dropped the ingredients in her hands, running to him and launching herself in his arms. He hugged her back, chuckling at her enthusiasm and reveling in her touch. His wife was absolutely adorable. She pulled back, taking his face in her soft hands, and kissed him firmly. "Mm."

He rested his head against hers, content to just hold her. "Hey."

She smiled conspiratorially back at him, her black eyes twinkling with mischief. "Hey."

"I love you." He said, grinning like the love struck fool he was. Dear force, he was in deep.

She smiled, closing her eyes. "I love you more."

She released his going back to the stove. "You're back early." She observed, glancing at the clock.

"Yeah." He took off his robe, hanging it by the door, along with his boots. He walked back into the kitchen, jumping up on the counter, watching his wife work. "Vader sent me home early. He pinned Tarkin with cleanup duty."

She glanced him curiously, her round lips pursed slightly. "What happened this time? These episodes are becoming so much more frequent." His wife, Camil, was quite used to Vader, and knew him almost as well as Jāuhn did. Every bit as enthusiastic about the justice as he was, she was always curious about what went on in there. She was one of the few people not afraid of Vader. She had been of course, the first time she had met him. He had invited Vader over because his wife always worried about the company he was keeping. She had been so mad at him. But Vader had been very cordial to his wife, and had quickly become welcome in his home.

He sighed. "I don't know. He went to see Palpatine, and then he...sort of wrecked Coruscant a little...and was in a very bad mood afterwards."

"Well. That explains it." She turned back to the stove. "That sick bastard. I can't wait until Vader sets him straight. And um..." Camil turned back to him, looking him up and down. "You're okay, right?"

Jāuhn smiled slightly. "I'm fine. Just got hit over the head with a staff a little."

She rolled her eyes, taking a large pot out of the oven. "You know I like Vader, but sometimes, just sometimes, I worry about the company you keep." She said teasingly, going to set the table.

Jāuhn followed. "What about you? How was your day?"

His wife had been part of the local force for five years. They had originally met when he had gotten into a squabble because both of them found a rebel spy at the same time and had argued for hours over who truly go the credit for his capture. They had a sort of love-hate relationship for a short time before he admitted his feelings to himself. He proposed immediately as any Imperial would, and she surprised him and herself by accepting. Three weeks into their knowledge of each other's existence, they were engaged, and three weeks later they were married. In moments like this he knew that he had made the right decision.

"Meh. Not much happened today, just a few little things. We had to take a dead woman's body out of a freezer." She shrugged and sat down.

"Really?" Well that wasn't surprising. He himself had to deal with situations like that before.

They talked over different subjects over dinner, most situated on political-related problems. Afterwards when they were cuddled on the couch, she decided to ask him to tell her a story. "What about?"

She curled into his side, stretching her toes. "Tell me about the first time you met Vader. Or when you became friends."

"Hm, let me see..." He paused, thinking back to three years ago. "Well..."

(Flashback)

Three years ago,

En route to Ord Massel

Jāuhn snapped to attention as did the rest of the men did when their leader entered the room, the room so quiet a pin drop would be a crash.

"Alright. Listen up. We're heading to a battle, and I need you all ready and fully rested, so you will be assigned bunks. Due to a failure in the sewer system, over half of the cabins have been flooded, and are unusable. We're going to have to fit you five to a room, two on each bunk and one on the floor. However, since there is an odd number of cabins and an even number of crew, one of you will have to share with me."

He gestured at Jāuhn. "Lieutenant Paddit, come with me. The rest of you, go."

Jāuhn just stood there while the rest of them walked away, feeling the most unlucky person in the universe. Vader turned and left, not sparing them another glance. Jāuhn blinked, once, twice, then hurried after him.

I'm dead. What if I move too much and the bed is squeaky, and Vader kills me?

With a wave of his hand, the door to Vader's room slid open. Unlike the crew cabins, with their standard grey metal walls, his room was pitch black. And instead of the utilitarian bunk made into the wall, there was a chair.

He stood there awkwardly. Was he supposed to sleep...or what?

Vader closed the door and shrugged out of his hooded robe, dropping it nonchalantly on the floor.

Jauhn's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. No one, absolutely no one had ever seen Vader's face. At least, none that lived to speak of it. Of course there were rumors to what the Sith hid behind his hood, though none of them were anywhere near to what the truth was.

For one, Vader was young, perhaps even younger Jāuhn. Aside from a few scars, his skin was entirely without blemishes. Sapphire eyes flecked with molten gold were hard under carefully trimmed dark blond hair.

Sitting down on the chair, Vader removed first his boots and socks, then peeled off gloves and outer tunic, tossing them on top of the robe. Mechanical fingers danced across the arm of the chair for a moment, and it hummed, slowly unfolding itself into a reclining position until Vader was lying flat on his back, his eyes closed.

Jāuhn stared at the resting Commander in Chief in a mix of curiosity and fear.

"Why aren't you asleep, Lieutenant?"

Swallowing, Jāuhn asked, "Where am I to sleep, my Lord?"

"On the floor, where do you think?" His tone was laced with exhaustion, and he cracked an eye open to glare at him. "If you were thinking I was going to share my bed with you, Lieutenant, you are very much mistaken."

"N... no, my Lord," Jāuhn stuttered, fighting to keep his hands away from his throat. He had seen many a man die for less. "I simply wished to be certain of your intentions, my Lord."

"Well, now that you are certain, Lieutenant," Vader growled, "Go to sleep."

And he did.

(End of Flashback)

"...After that, he promoted me to Admiral, and since then, we've always been on good terms." He looked down at his wife, whose eyes were closed, but was still awake. "Hmm."

He stood, picking her up from the couch. "Come on, you need to go to bed."

Once they were nicely snuggled in bed, his arms around her and her leg over his he whispered. "I love you."

He felt her smile against his neck. "I love you more."

"Not true."

"Go to sleep, Jāuhn."

And he did.

"Where is Lord Vader!?"

Jāuhn sighed wearily. Why? Why on today of all days? He had been ripped from his bed, forced to go to work 18:00 just to go to a meeting that Vader didn't appear at. Where was he anyways?

He stifled a yawn. Why? Why? Why?

"Admiral Paddit." Grand Moff Tarkin addressed him, annoyed with the circumstances. "You'd be so kind as to find out why Vader dragged us all out of bed for a meeting that he didn't show up for? But before you go, here's an datapad with all the happenings of the night. Take that to Vader, will you? The rest of you gents, go home. This meeting is dismissed."

Jāuhn sighed, picking up the datapad containing records of all events that happened while he was away, wondering why he had been chosen for this. Probably because he was the only one of them Vader treated favorably.

Why?

He sighed, deciding to comm. Vader's mansion. Perhaps his droid knew his whereabouts.

"Hello, I am C-3PO, human cybo..."

"I know who you are. Where is Vader?"

"Oh, Admiral Paddit! How nice to hear you are alright! How is your wife?"

"Vader, threepio, Vader. Where is he?"

"Oh. My Master is here, asleep in his room."

Jāuhn pinched the bridge of his nose.

Why?

Why him?

Jāuhn pondered on these things while walking to Vader's slightly morbidly designed home. He had always been confused why his friend had built his home in replica of a place that had caused him so much suffering. He was let in immediately, and walked straight to his personal bedroom.

The dark room lit up when he entered, the red band around the room glowing slightly, softly, enough to brighten the room in a dimly.

Vader was there, wrapped in all of his blankets, bare from the waist up. His gloved arm covered his face, and his calm breathing signified that he was awake, even if just barely. Jāuhn was tempted to pour ice water on him for waking him up and not getting up himself.

"Don't even think about it."

"And if I do?"

Vader's arm shifted slightly, and one icy blue eye glared lazily back at him. "Don't make me kill you Jāuhn. You've been an good friend so far."

Jāuhn scoffed. "You couldn't kill me if you wanted to, Milord. You'd care to much."

Vader snorted, his eyes closing again. "Don't count on it."

Despite what Vader said, he knew that he would never lay a finger on him. Unless he did something stupid like unreasonably fall in love with the rebel concept. Which wasn't the slightest possibility.

Jāuhn cleared his throat. So was he getting up or what? Sighing, he set down the datapad, and grabbed the comforter, ripping it off the Sith. Vader groaned, reaching out with the force and pulling the blanket back.

"It's time to wake up Milord."

Vader sat up, his expression downright murderous. "What?" He snapped.

Jāuhn handed him the datapad, sitting down on the end of the bed. "If I may ask, why did you have us all get up and then stay in bed?"

"You may not."

He watched as his friend skimmed through the datapad, before it shattered in his fingertips. It was his way of making sure no one ever was able to see the classified information he'd just seen. He'd probably have his droid come get it later. His eye briefly skimmed over the lone stripes that decorated Vader's back, rising over his shoulders and on his neck.

Cruelty.

Jāuhn yawned, standing and stretching. "I'll wait for you outside, Milord."

It was odd how a person who could be ready immediately if the situation called for it would prefer to stay in bed than go to a meeting he had arranged.

Work.

Endless piles of endless work, piled on her desk. File after file. It was all futile. All of these useless bills, fixing minor problems of the Empire, and yet none for anything worth fighting for. An endless well of nothingness to squabble about, all of it an distraction from the true evil taking place behind the scenes.

This, this is the life of Padmé Amidala.

Work for years to come. Work of absolutely no consequence.

And she was sick of it.

The fate of the Alliance had been placed in her hands.

They trusted her with their future.

She would not let them down.

One after the other, she tossed them into disposal chute. The Alliance was dying, and she wasn't going to waste another moment on useless files.

Her best friend was going underground tonight, and here she was sorting flimsis.

Locking up for the day at 02:00, she started her journey home. Her journey was quickly cut short by an patora, whom she immediately recognized as Senator Chuchi, a beautiful, brave young girl with high morals and values, which reminded Padmé distinctly of herself when she first came to the senate. The girl was unfortunately nervous at the thought of standing up to Palpatine, although she did appose the Empire.

"Senator Amidala." She bowed politely, but her body posture seemed stiff, almost on edge.

"Senator Chuchi." Padmé bowed as well, a warm smile on her face.

"Senator Amidala, might I enquire an tête-à-tête with you? There is an urgent matter that concerns you that I wanted to speak about." She looked nervous even though she had regained her composure.

"Of course. What time is convenient for you?" Padmé could barely control her curiosity.

"As soon as possible." She glanced behind her as though she was expecting someone to appear behind her.

Padmé's brows pulled down in confusion at her unease. "Well, I am retiring early today, if you would like to meet me elsewhere?"

Chuchi hugged her suddenly, kissing both of Padmé's cheeks, a farewell custom normal for her people, while Padmé reciprocated the action, taken aback slightly. "Meet me at this address at 05:00. I'll come a half an hour later." Chuchi murmured against her cheek, her fingers slipping something into the hem of Padmé's skirt quickly before she pulled away and left.

Padmé took public transport home, hurrying into her apartment, locking the door. She reached into her skirt, pulling out a tiny piece of flimsy with an address an Chuchi's name on it.

When she first was introduced into the art of secret correspondence, she had kept kept most of the information on a passworded datapad. Unfortunately, she discovered that datapads were easily hacked. Documenting such things were no longer an option. If it was possible to be found, then it was not safe. She couldn't allow anything to be traced to her. So, she got a shredder. She memorized the information, then she destroyed it enough that it was unfixable and no different than random house dirt.

She shredded the scrap into fine dust, and blew it into the air, making sure it was unretrievable.

She wasn't quite sure how many confidential messages she breathed every day.

She sat in the tub, the water a long time gone cold.

When?

When had she stopped feeling? When had she gotten used to a life of constant peril? When had she gotten used to the idea that there was redemption?

She wasn't paranoid, she was cautious.

Paranoid: Unreasonably or obsessively anxious, suspicious or mistrustful, pessimistic.

Cautious: Careful to avoid potential problems or danger.

Never would she have guessed that she would be a person who carried a blaster wherever she went. That she would take extreme risks just to be able to not break her facade by looking over her shoulder.

She wasn't hurting, she was numb.

Hurting: Experiencing mental or physical pain or distress.

Numb: Unable to feel, to respond, dead.

Never did she think she wouldn't feel the energy, the life inside her, the fire she had once had. That it would show on her face. She still fought, but she didn't see an end.

She wasn't an savior, she was an murderer.

Savior: A person who saves someone or something from danger and is regarded with the veneration of an religious figure.

Murderer: One who commits murder.

Never had she thought when she had been a naïve little girl hoping to make thing better that she would be the cause of the way thing were. That she would be the reason of so many lives.

She wasn't breaking, she was broken.

Breaking: In the action of breaking, separating.

Broken: Having been fractured and and damaged and no longer in one piece or in working order.

And somehow she couldn't find anything to help.

A part of her didn't even want to. She was better this way, not hoping, just fighting because she couldn't do anything else.

She was so broken that she was too twisted to care.

And all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put her together again.

Nervousness, a feeling she had long grown immune to, was evident on Senator Chuchi's face, as they sat in a back corner of an club.

"I've been talking to Bail almost three years now. When the Empire first started, he tried to convince me to join the rebellion, but I was scared. I told I couldn't, but promised that if he personally ever needed help, I would lend my assistance. A few days ago, I talked to Bail again, and he told me that he's leaving tonight. He also informed me of the state of the Alliance. I thought it over, and while I cannot join the rebellion, the planet of Pantora wants to support you. We cannot send our soldiers to you, but we can provide clothes, supplies, artillery, ships, and food." She paused, having let everything out in one breath. "I can't promise that I will ever be able to house Rebels though."

Padmé inward felt a small bit of hope growing in her. Perhaps this was what they needed. With the backing of the Patora system, they may be able to renew their strength. For the longest time she felt, especially in these last few weeks, she felt that the galaxy had come to an crisis, that something was bound to happen soon. Her original thought concerned the dying out of the Rebellion, but perhaps it would be their comeback.

She allows a tiny smile to overcome her, a smile from inside, one of the ones people couldn't see. That tiny hope was growing inside, lighting her up inside. It gave her something to hold on to, something to make her body smile.

Intimidation.

The gate is as strong as concrete walls, smooth and polished, as black as night. There was no light visible between them, and they were so tall she couldn't see above them. A glowing red line went around the inside of the doors.

Their frightening appearance and the altogether foreboding appearance, they symbolized something far more sinister. Behind those doors was the things she feared most, the things that haunted her dreams. The things the things that tormented her. The things that took away her hope. The thing that took away everything away from her, and that continued to take things away from her.

Her deepest fears, and the darkness secrets of the galaxy were in these rooms. And the terrifying enigma behind it all.

She stood in front of the the tall building, wondering how someone could even call an place so intimidating an home.

Finally, after standing at the gates of Darth Vader's home for ten minutes, Padmé Amidala raised her hand touched it.

A/N: Am I like your favorite updater yet? This chapter wasn't fantastic, but don't worry, new chapters soon. your support and enthusiasm is such great motivation, especially since this is my first 'fic. I was so sure no one would ever read or care for it, that it'd be an okay, but not in the favorite stories, so the fact that you guys even take time for it is amazing. Yes, I made a cliffy, don't hate me. Also minese are made up creatures since I couldn't quite find an good equivalent. Minese are our modern day bunnies.

As always, I love you so much, thank you for being part of my family and I'll see you guys next time. (Stole TheGabbyShow's outro.)

xx,

Christina.

Fun Fact: A tree nearly fell on me and missed by inches.

Word Count: 4672