Chapter 21
Present Day: Chicago.
He was here. His Master had arrived. Vader expected that. He expected to see Piett's lips quiver in their presence and pale under Vader's gaze. He, however, did not expect the presence of Tarkin. Yet there he was, sitting far too close to Pamila on the sofa. Vader's Pamila. Piett sat on the sofa as well, but at least he had the decency to keep his distance. His Master sat in an armchair across from Pamila. The candle light filling the room did not help. It seemed to encourage the depraved governor.
Of course Pamila played good hostess and invited them inside with a kind smile and open arms. She offered refreshments and food, both were declined. That's just the kind of woman she was. Vader knew this and admired it, but in this instance, he wished she was slightly cold hearted. In Vader's mind, she was too comely to be seen in her lavender sun dress.
Lord Vader did not resume his usual position of standing behind his Master. Instead he stood behind Pamila. He saw his Master notice this, but Sidious said nothing. At least from there he could hover over Tarkin and watch his every move. Every time Tarkin's eyes lingered too long or his hand brushed against her, Vader was ready to strike. But he heard his Master in his thoughts:
Steady, my friend. Steady.
"I'm still blown away about the thought of space travel," Pamila addressed Piett now, easing Vader's tension. "Here on Earth, it was amazing when we made it to the moon. But for you guys, it must be so workaday. And you mentioned you're a captain of a spaceship right? That's amazing."
Piett blushed a bit, but kept a straight back and a steady voice. "Thank you…Pamila," Piett kept on struggling on what to call her. Vader knew he kept wanting to say my lady. In Piett's mind, she was Vader's. Vader approved of this thought.
The Emperor interjected into their conversation, which made Vader stiffen with anxiety. "Pamila, I am most interested in hearing about you. You are a healer yet you use no medicine, you use energy. Please, I would like to hear more about this Reiki."
Vader's entire body went rigid. He knew the true purpose of his Master's inquiries. Sidious was constantly looking for resources and talents to take advantage of. It was one thing to use Vader as the Empire's warden, but he would not let Pamila's healing soul be abused.
He could feel Pamila tense every time Palpatine spoke to her. Vader could feel her stomach sink and her hands tremble ever so slightly. Still, she responded to his Master. "Oh, I don't know if it's really all that interesting. Basically, I just use a certain kind of energy called Chi to help heal the body. It has less side-effects then medications and people seem to appreciate that."
Palpatine placed an index finger on his chin, clearly fascinated. "How marvelous. You must be very gifted to be able to wield such a talent."
"And quite lovely, I might add." Tarkin declared with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows. Vader saw Pamila lean away from Tarkin. She tentatively stood up and moved away from the sofa.
"Are you guys sure you don't want anything? It's really no trouble." Tarkin and Piett looked like they were going to say something, but Palpatine waved them off.
"Thank you, Pamila, but we are fine. I assure you."
Pamila nodded uncertainly and made her way into the kitchen, pouring some purple liquid into a tall glass. Vader knew she wanted to leave this situation, but didn't dare be impolite. Vader wanted to help comfort her while he still could.
Vader looked at his Master, "Is there anything I need to be appraised of since my absence?"
His Master shot him a disapproving look. Most likely upset that his apprentice dared interrupt his inquiries. Palpatine let out a soft sigh and scowled, "Nothing of relevance at this time, Lord Vader."
A noticeable feeling of agitation and tension seemed to saturate the room. Both Tarkin and Piett shifted in their seats as Darth Vader and Darth Sidious stared each other down. Pamila stopped drinking her drink mid-sip. She carefully placed the glass on the counter and fiddled with her fingers nervously.
"I'm just going to let you guys talk. I got some chores to do in the bedroom."
Palpatine tried to twist his face back into a friendly smile as he looked back at her, "I hope we haven't chased you off."
"No, I just want to get some things done before I forget. You guys make yourself comfortable. Let me know if you need anything." With that, she silently walked to her room and softly closed the door.
Vader's master looked at him with disdain, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you did that on purpose."
"She doesn't need to know the Empire's business." Vader responded, trying to keep his tone aloof and callous. "I thought it be best if we discuss such matters in private."
"And I told you there are no relevant issues to discuss!" his Master snapped, rising to his feet, making Piett flinch.
Tarkin interrupted the frosty tension by walking towards the kitchen, inspecting the glass bottle of Pamila's drink, sniffing at its brim. "She seems like a passive, docile little creature. You're a lucky man, Lord Vader."
Vader shrugged unfeelingly, "I hadn't noticed." He looked back at the Emperor. "When do we return to the Empire?" The Force knows he didn't want to go back. If he thought there was a prayer of him defeating Sidious, he would hack them all to pieces right then and live out his life with Pamila in this small apartment. But he knew his Master's Force Lightning would disable him in a minute, so Vader was forced to play this mind game. Once he was out of her life, she would be safe. It would kill what was left of his heart, but it was a small price to pay.
His Master opened his mouth in surprise. "Why the hurry? I thought you would be relishing your rare time off."
"Yes Vader, why rush away from the woman who saved you're life and who only has one bed?" Tarkin snickered. Vader knew Tarkin was goading him. Still, it took all his strength not to crush his windpipe.
Vader struggled to disregard his emotions, "It may have escaped your notice Tarkin, but the three people who make up the foundation of the Empire stand in this room. And they stand outside of the Empire's boarders. Ergo, the longer we are here, the more potential problems could arise there."
Tarkin seemed to bristle at Vader's comment but remained silent. The corner of the Emperor's mouth twitched, either as a smile or a sneer of derision. Piett finally decided to speak up.
"My Emperor, Lord Vader does have a point. The Empire will be in disarray if you remain here much longer."
Palpatine glanced at Piett, barely regarding his words. Then he looked back at Vader. "What of Pamila?"
Lord Vader placed his hands on his hips dismissively, "Pamila is of little consequence. She will remain here, of course. She has no place in the Empire."
Except with me! Except to love me and make me feel like a man again! Don't make me go back to that hell! His mental voice pleaded. He ignored it. This was for the best.
Tarkin folded his arms over his chest skeptically. "Can she be trusted? Leaving her unattended is a bit of a loose end. Perhaps it would be best to eliminate the risk altogether."
Vader let out a deafening growl, his hands clamping down on the back of the sofa. "She is not some loose-lipped informant! Who in this primitive planet would believe a woman about a galactic empire? And even if someone who wasn't insane did believe her, what could they feasibly do to us? Besides, she is no traitor!"
Instead of being taken aback, Tarkin chuckled. "That is a lot of pomp for a woman who is of no consequence."
"Indeed it is," the Emperor agreed, but then let the topic slide. "However, Lord Vader is right. Pamila is not a risk. Piett is right as well. We must return to the Empire soon." He moved to Vader, standing disturbingly close to him. "We will leave you alone to say your farewells. I trust you will meet us at the shuttle?"
Vader saw the location of the transport in his mind. Then he met his Master's gaze. "Of course, my Master."
… … … … … … … …
Of no consequence? Did he really just say she was of no consequence? There was a lot of snuggling for being of no consequence! If she was one night stand, she would have expected this. Some fun and then done. But she wasn't. He had been so respectful with her, so sweet and understanding. But now he was on his way to tell her it was over and that it didn't mean anything. It was her own damn fault! She had turned into one of those wishy-washy women she used to make fun of. She was Florence Nightingale meets Bella Swan! She had grown attached to a perfect stranger in a mask. Could it have ended any other way? How could be she be such an idiot? Expecting a happy ending from a peculiar house guest. Pamila readied herself for the hammer drop she should have seen coming.
The door seemed to groan as it opened, matching the tone of the room. Candlelight from the living room melded with the candlelight from her bedroom, making Vader's shadow large and terrifying as he entered the room. He didn't knock. Pamila didn't know if that meant he was comfortable around her or he just didn't give a damn about her privacy. Probably the latter.
She was in the middle of folding jeans when he came into her room fully. His hand seemed to rest nervously on the handle, toying with it in his fingers. Even she could feel his resistance. Her knight was ashamed.
He spoke in that deep voice that could pierce every part of her soul. "Pamila, I… I… It is time for me to return to the Empire."
Pamila tried her best to smile at him. After all, it was not his fault she built up expectations in her head. "I know," She put down the blue jeans she was folding on her bed. "I hope you have a safe trip." With that said, she picked up another pair of jeans and started folding.
He didn't leave. He stood there. Silent, frozen, and as handsome as ever. God, she just wanted him to leave before she broke down into tears! Instead, he took a step towards her.
"Is that all you hope for?" He asked gently. "Is that all you're going to say?"
She looked up at him as his imposing figure moved excruciatingly slow towards her. He stopped tantalizingly close to her. She tilted her head to meet his gaze.
"What would you like me to say? Would you like to hear me beg you not to go? Would you like me to cry girlish tears for you?"
It was meant to be sarcasm. It was not meant to sting. But it did, she knew it did. He looked down, shame playing out even in his mask. Then after some moments of quiet, he looked at her once again, "Yes. I want you to make me stay here. I want you to convince me that I can prevent the inevitable. That I can change who I am."
Pamila was speechless. What was he talking about? He wanted to stay? With her? No, it couldn't be. He was just being kind. Making her feel good before he left. He was just trying to be a gentleman.
"Please," she started to speak, but it sounded more like a whimpering plea. "You don't know how much I want you to stay. But I can't ask you to. I can't ask you to stay in this tiny apartment with me. I'm a hot mess! And I'm jumping the gun assuming you feel anything for me. All I know is I care for you, but we barely know each other and obviously those other guys are anxious to take you back home. So let's just part friends and be happy."
Vader did not react for a long time. Then his deep voice rumbled. "You care about me?" It seemed like both a statement and a question. Then he looked down at his gloved hands, furling and unfurling his fingers.
Without warning, he snatched the tips of one of his gloves and ripped it of his hand. In front of Pamila's eyes was a silver hand. Mechanical joints held together alloy fingers to a metal hand. It looked skeletal and cold. It shook. He shook. Then she realized. He was terrified. He was angry. Lord Vader was mortified.
With his other hand, he gripped her arm tightly and pulled her close to him and his hand. His voice sounded darker than usual. "Look at this! This is what you have come to care for! Parts of me may be flesh, but this is what dominates my body. Frigid and unloving metal. And if it's not mechanical, its scars. Burns on decrepit flesh! Is that something you want to love?"
Pamila hardly listened to his monologue. While he was talking, her fingers began tracing the finer points of his. It was cool to the touch, but enticing nonetheless. Even if it was metal, she could still feel his aura upon it. His shame. His sadness. His need. In some ways, it was hauntingly human. It craved affection, but felt unworthy of it.
Unthinkingly, she entwined her fingers with his. She heard him suck in a nervous breath. She gripped his hand tightly because it was just that. His hand. Nothing more, nothing less.
"You are someone I want to love."
He was quiet. His thumb traced over her knuckles. It sent a shiver down her spine. Out of pleasure, not the chill of the metal. If she could, she would have kissed him. She still would have, regardless of the mask; but it would probably make him uncomfortable and he would retreat away.
He broke the silence and released his grip on her arm. "I care for you as well. And because of that, I must leave you be." He backed away from her. She swore she could almost her a sniffle behind his mask. She wanted to run and keep him there, but her feet were cemented to the ground. "Farewell Pamila."
Lord Vader, the man she saved from the fire, turned on his heels and left.
*Belt from the Croods stretches out his arms* Da da DAAAA! However, before anyone jumps on the comment section and say how horrible I am for breaking them up, let me just say this is far from the end. They just couldn't stay in that apartment forever. Someone needed to throw some dynamite in the water ;) They will be back together, but some things have to happen in between first ;) and one of them of course is Palpatine in all his evil glory. And side note: I didn't mean to offend twilight fans with my bella swan comment, that is just the characters viewpoint. Until next time my lovely readers! Thank you for all your support.