Chapter 7: Aedificium Tempestas

The rain was back, drenching the dreary city once again. It seemed as though the weather was as depressed as what he was.

Obi-wan sighed and leaned back in the recliner, watching the twins play with their hand-carved toy banthas on the floor.

Several hours had passed since the Trooper Commander had returned with the equipment. Appo and a handful of his officers had carried crate after crate into Vader and Padmè's bedroom before transferring him from the com-room via hover-stretcher. The Sith had laid considerably still during his transition; presumably dropping into stasis after his collapse. Nice to know he'd at least remembered that part of his Jedi training.

The last three weeks had been nothing but a mixture of confusion and disappointment. When they'd first arrived at Kaas City he had felt the light still lingering inside Vader. He'd even shed a few tears when he'd taken the mask off and spoken to Padmè; the sound of his familiar husky voice dredging up layers of pain and hurt that he'd fought for months to suppress.

But for some reason that flicker of light had faded, day by day gradually growing dimmer. At first, he'd thought it was the city. Being an old Sith Stronghold steeped in the Dark Side of the Force, it had been a plausible explanation. He'd even spotted him one night, conversing with what appeared to be a ghost, a cloaked ebony shadow lingering beside the open glass doors of the main chamber.

Was it this ghost's influence? Or was it something else ... something deeper?

Obi-wan stroked his beard. Whatever the reason, his Force powers were getting stronger. Vader meditated more now than what he'd ever done as a Jedi. He even seemed to show more restraint too. Why? Why now? If Anakin had only done these things back when he'd asked him too — instead of being reckless and flying off the rails constantly — he was certain that he would have been made a Master on the Jedi Council.

Then there was that blast of energy that had sent him flying. He'd never experienced anything like that before. It was like being hit by a turbo-laser at close range only through the Force. What was that all about? And more the point, who'd taught him how to do it?

The bedroom door whooshed open and Padmè stepped out, her hair down and her expression solemn. She shot him a pained stare before bending to pick up her daughter and cradling her to her chest.

"How is he?" Obi-wan asked.

She slumped onto the sofa beside Syrennè and sighed. "He's groggy, but awake. Aleria had to sedate him."

"What? And he allowed her to?"

"He insisted on it. I think he heard the twins screaming." She stroked Leia's brown curls and sighed again. "He said he could sense their distress, that they could feel his pain." She lifted her head. "How is that possible, Obi-wan? They're not even one year old yet."

He wanted to tell her no, that they were still too young. But he'd seen and sensed the same thing himself. Hearing their father growling in pain, both children had suddenly become inconsolable — Leia screaming and rolling around on the floor, and Luke crying out "Da-daa" and banging against the bedroom door trying to get to him. They had only stopped when the room finally fell silent. Their bond was incredibly powerful, frighteningly so.

"They are his children, Padmè," he said, edging forward in his seat. "I'm afraid that anything is possible."

He went to get up when the door opened again, this time it was Aleria. She too looked exhausted, her green eyes heavy as she hurried across the chamber to Vader's desk. Her white lab-coat was spattered with blood — Anakin's blood — and the sight of it made his whole body suddenly go numb. What the hell had happened in there? He rose from the chair and joined her at the desk, just as she started to rummage through his stuff.

"Doctor, might I have a word?"

"Not now, Master Kenobi," she said, digging at the mountain of data-discs and journals piled in a heap. "He wants his data-pad. I don't want to keep him waiting."

Obi-wan walked around to the other side of the desk and pulled the device from Vader's drawer. Then he headed straight for the bedroom. "Fine, I will take it in to him. I've been meaning to ask him a few things anyway."

"No ... wait!" Aleria called.

He stopped by the door and glanced over his shoulder.

"Please," she said. "He needs to rest. Don't go getting him excited."

Obi-wan nodded and opened the door. The instant he stepped inside he froze. He'd had no idea what he was expecting to see, but it sure as hell wasn't this.

Vader was lying naked on the bed with a sheet draped over his waist, his back propped up by pillows. His skin was pale and scarred. A black box that had been surgically implanted just below his collar bone was surrounded by wired-up sensors and blackened blood vessels. Tubes were sticking out from everywhere; one in each bicep and two taped up and buried in the right side of his chest.

Then there was his face. As badly scarred as it was, he was still clearly recognisable; even with the clear oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose. There were new things too. His cheeks were sunken, and two purple-black shadows encircled his closed eyes. Was he sick? He really didn't look well.

"What ... do you want?"

The groggy sound of his voice caught him off guard. Obi-wan averted his gaze and released the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. When he looked up, two half-lidded hazy blue eyes were staring at him.

"Here," he said, walking to the bed with the data-pad, "your doctor said that you wanted this."

Vader took the device in his prosthetic hand and narrowed his stare.

"I wanted to see how you were doing."

"How ... thoughtful of you." He dropped the data-pad onto the bedside table and tried to push himself further upright. With a groan, he laid his head back and closed his eyes.

Feeling a bit out of sorts, Obi-wan took a seat by the window and tried to think. He had so many questions, but now seeing how difficult it was for him to simply speak, he was hesitant to ask any of them.

"Aleria's notes are on the data-pad behind you on the dresser. Read them if you must. Just stop thinking so loud."

Hearing Anakin's voice in his head he looked to the bed and saw him once again staring at him. Twisting around, he grabbed the data-pad and brought up the report. "And you tell me to stay out of your head."

He growled. "Shut up and read it."

Obi-wan skimmed over the doctor's records, struggling to make any sense out of them. He placed the device back on the dresser and stroked his beard. The third occurrence. Repeat drain treatment. Sudden and severe hemopneumothorax? What did it all mean?

"My right lung collapsed. Apparently being burned alive has some rather nasty side-effects."

The haunting images of Mustafar flashed before his eyes. He shook them off. "Anakin, I'm—"

"Don't!" he growled, turning his head to look out the window. "No lies, remember?"

It wasn't a lie, really. He truly was sorry. Sorry for everything. Sorry for failing him as a Master; sorry for not standing up against the Council when they'd decided to make him spy on the Chancellor; and most of all, sorry for not realizing that he was being groomed by Palpatine before it was too late. But there was no point in rehashing the past, not any more. Part of their new alliance was an agreement to not lie to each other. Which worked well, considering. Now they could say whatever they wanted providing it was the truth — no matter how hurtful or accusatory.

It was surprisingly freeing. And necessary.

Vader broke into a coughing fit and lurched forward, the sudden and unexpected outburst interrupting his thoughts. He muttered something in Huttese, grabbed his data-pad and slumped back.

"What is going on with you?" Obi-wan asked, folding his arms and leaning back in the chair. "First I get thrown into your desk by some mysterious shockwave, then you appear stumbling up the corridor like you've just been trampled by a bantha."

Blue eyes peered over the screen. They stared through him, shifted then drifted away. His expression tightened and turned cold; the molten glow of Mustafar flickering beneath the shadowed ravine of his brow. Then ... he looked away, back to the data-pad.

Obi-wan jumped up and slammed his hand on the dresser. "Damn it, Anakin! Talk to me!" He yanked the device from Vader's grip with the Force, and called it into his hand. The move earned him another hate-filled glare, but he no longer cared. He was sick and tired of being patient. Surrounded by such anger and toxicity, he'd suspected that it would eventually affect him.

"It is too late for you to pretend to care, Obi-wan."

"I ... I wish I was pretending," he said, turning to the window and covering his face. "Perhaps then ... it wouldn't hurt so much."

A gentle pressure probed at his mind. Not forceful or demanding, but enquiring — tentatively feeling out along their bond. He slowly turned around and they stared at each other in silence. For a long, agonizing moment, time stood still. Paralysed, he studied the once again glacial blue eyes of his fallen brother; seeing every tortuous and traumatic memory dance inside them. It hurt even more now. Now that he'd openly acknowledged it. The pain; the denial; the betrayal; the truth. The truth that even after everything Anakin had done, every crime he had committed, every life he had taken — he still cared for him.

Unable to look away, he sucked in a shaky breath and fought to compose himself.

Vader sighed and broke their gaze. "Can I have my data-pad back?" he asked, holding his hand out. "I need to transmit the order before the window closes."

There was no venom in his voice. He almost sounded resigned, contemplative even. Perhaps he had succeeded in getting through to Anakin after all. Obi-wan sighed and looked down at the device. "Oh... right," he said quietly. On the screen was a strange cell-like structure with detailed schematics for some type of advanced ventilation system. Across the top, written in Aurebesh was the name Rhinnal State Medical Academy. "What is this?" he asked, placing the data-pad into the Sith's outstretched palm.

"Something that enables me to exist for longer than ten minutes without the mask on," Vader said dismissively, reaching for the bedside and grabbing his wrist-com. "Aleria, have you got that supply list ready yet?"

"Yes, Lord Vader."

"Good. Bring it to me."

Obi-wan dropped back into the chair. Again, he'd refused to speak to him. But the effort had had some effect at least, with the Sith going quiet and not going on another of his argumentative tirades. He glanced to the door. The doctor walked in, still wearing her bloodied white lab coat. She moved to the bed, pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and placed it on the Sith's lap.

Vader grabbed it and started reading. His right hand tightened into a fist. "Is there anything left on the Exactor?" he snapped, suddenly glaring up at her.

The redhead shook her head. "Not medically, my lord. Even the bacta tank is dry."

"Why?" he demanded, scrunching the paper into a ball.

To her credit, Aleria didn't flinch at his angered outburst. She just folded her arms and kicked her hip out. "Apparently, the crew were still waiting for the delivery at Coruscant when they were ordered to prepare for immediate departure."

The Sith's eyes widened slightly then narrowed at her, as if it had suddenly dawned that she was indirectly accusing him of being at fault. He growled. "Why was I not informed of this?"

She tilted her head and gave him a wry smile. "To be fair, that day you were only focused on locating your wife. Missing deliveries wouldn't have attracted your interest."

Vader scowled. "Indeed," he grumbled, returning his attention to the data-pad. He thumbed over the screen, tapped at it a few more times then put it back on the bedside. "There. It is done. Now, bring me my suit. I need to get moving."

"Get moving? But, your body needs to rest," Aleria said. "Without the bacta tank, healing takes longer."

He ripped the tubes from his arms and went to grab the ones in his chest. "I was not asking for permission."

She lunged forward and grabbed his hand in an effort to stop him from pulling the tape off. Amber flashed in his eyes as he glared up at her. Obi-wan prepared to intervene, creeping to the edge of his seat and bracing his feet on the floor.

"Doctor..." Vader warned.

"Please, my lord," she pleaded. "At least let me do it properly."

He pulled his hand back. "Very well. Make it quick."

Obi-wan rose to his feet and straightened his tabard. It was obvious their conversation had reached its end so there was no point in him sticking around while Vader got suited up. He glanced to the bed and the Sith met his gaze. "I'll see you when you come out."

Padmè was still sitting beside Syrennè when he left the bedroom. Luke and Leia were back on the floor, once again playing with their banthas. In an alternate universe it would've been quite a comfortable and inviting environment. Anakin and Padmè's children playing on the floor while they sat arm in arm on the lounge, the three of them discussing... whatever. As it was now, it only served to amplify his sorrow. And regret. He shook the image away and trudged over to the recliner by the glass doors to sit down.

"How did it go?" Padmè asked, her hazel eyes staring questioningly from across the room.

He sighed and slumped back. "About the same as usual, Padmè."

"Not good then?"

"No..." he said, his attention drifting to the twins. They were getting more and more energetic every day. If they were anything like their father, no doubt they would soon be difficult to keep tabs on. He chuckled internally. Something else to look forward to. He looked back to their mother. "But it wasn't all bad either. I think I might have even gotten through to him ... well, for a brief moment anyway."

Luke dropped his Bantha toy and turned to stare at the bedroom door. Seconds later it opened to the steady rasp and hiss of Vader's respirator. The Sith's black armoured body filled the doorway, his floor-length cloak settling at his boots from the movement. The young boy scrambled to his feet and stumbled for his father, his tiny hands reaching out. "Da-da," he said.

Vader dropped to one knee and caught his son in his gloved hands just as he tumbled forward, the young Skywalker tripping over his own unsteady feet. "Careful, my son," Vader said, drawing him to his chest. He rose to his full height and straddled the boy on his hip then carried him over to the desk. Pulling out the chair, he sat down and maneuvered Luke onto his lap.

Arms caged around his son, Vader activated the command console and brought up the small holo-projector. A glowing blue image of the star destroyer Exactor appeared above the desk. He tapped at the console when Luke stretched his hand out and tried to touch the ship. The Sith let out a dark chuckle. "You like my ship?" he said, a twinge of amusement evident in his tone.

Luke reached out with both hands and wriggled closer. "Ship. Dadda ship," he said, his innocent blue eyes repeatedly darting between father and holo-image.

"Yes, Luke," Vader said, gently pulling him back onto his lap. "Dada's ship. The Exactor. Can you say... Exactor?"

The young Skywalker looked up at him in confusion then back to the holo-image. He pointed. "Zak... zakt... Zakta!" He smiled excitedly up at his father, wagging his finger at the ship. "Dadda... ship... Zakta!"

Vader chuckled again and wrapped his left arm protectively around him. "Well done. Now, be still. Dada has work to do."

Stroking his beard, Obi-wan watched curiously as the Sith brought up the hyperlane map and started plotting out jump routes. He stretched out into the Force, feeling for Vader's presence. A small flicker of light breached the consuming layers of darkness surrounding him. As if the dark side had moved aside slightly, making room for the light emanating from the young Skywalker.

His focus was broken when Leia dropped her toy and started to cry. Padmè quickly left the sofa and went to her, scooping the crying infant into her arms and consoling her. She walked over to her husband, his black mask momentarily lifting from the holo-map to watch her. Stopping before the desk, cradling their daughter, Padmè cleared her throat.

"Are you planning on going somewhere?" she asked him, the smallest hint of anger lacing her tone.

Vader rested both hands flat on the console. "Yes..." he said, staring at her. "However, I am not going with you. If that is what you are worried about."

His words were clipped and tight. The anger previously absent whilst he entertained his son now clearly evident.

"Where are you going?" she asked, adjusting Leia on her hip. "And when were you planning on telling me?"

The Sith stared at her a moment, the even rasp of his respirator echoing in the sudden awkward silence between them. He returned to the holo-map and resumed his business. "I have been summoned back to the palace," he said robotically, not looking up. "I leave for Coruscant tonight."

Leia fussed in her mother's arms, wriggling and squirming, reaching for the floor. Padmè huffed and put her down. The young girl scrambled away, pushing unsteadily onto her bare feet and stumbling toward her father. Reaching his armoured leg, she grabbed hold of his cloak and started tugging on it, staring up at his mask.

He tilted his head to look at her, then gently tousled his gloved fingers through her chestnut ringlets.

"I don't want you going back to Palpatine, Anakin," Padmè stated angrily, folding her arms over her chest. "He will ruin you! You won't be the same when you return."

The Sith's mask snapped to his wife, his left-hand balling into a fist on the console. "Perhaps you would prefer that he came here, Padmè?" he growled. He removed Luke from his lap and gently placed him next to his sister on the floor. He rose to his feet and braced both hands on the console. "So, I can die trying to protect Obi-wan and our children from him?" He strode around the desk and loomed over her; his hands tightly clenched at his sides. "Is that... what you want?"

Padmè was visibly trembling and Obi-wan decided that it was probably a good time to intervene. Vader seemed unhinged, like at any moment the dam wall holding his anger at bay could suddenly break. He rose from the recliner. "Anakin... I don't think that is exactly what Padmè meant."

The Sith whirled and stabbed the air with his finger. "You stay out of this!" He turned back to his wife and folded his arms. "Well, Padmè? Is it? Is that... what you want?"

She hugged her arms tight around her chest and slowly shook her head, her eyes never leaving his mask. "No, Ani. I ... I just want my husband back. Please... all I want is your love."

"My love?" he scoffed, gripping her chin in his prosthetic fingers and tilting her head back. "You... already have that. You just don't know what to do with it. You never have."

He let her go. Spinning on his heel, he stormed off and headed for the passage, calling out to his apprentice. "Syrennè! Now!"

The young blonde jumped to her feet. "Yes, master!" she acknowledged, hurrying after him.

The moment he left, Padmè collapsed to her knees, shaking. Obi-wan crossed the room and knelt beside her, pulling her trembling body into his arms. He rubbed her back and let her cry into his shoulder. Vader had frightened her; reduced her to a quivering, sobbing mess. Two tiny bodies squeezed in-between them, their fear echoing through the Force. He closed his eyes and let out an exhausted sigh. "He doesn't mean it, Padmè. You know that," he whispered, trying to soothe her.

Padmè continued to cry.

"I'm so sorry," a voice said from the bedroom. "I should've warned you."

Obi-wan lifted his eyes from Padmè's shoulder to glance up at the redhead doctor lingering in the open doorway. He cocked his brow. "You should have warned us about what exactly?"

"His suit," she said shaking her head. "The medication he's on can make him... unstable at times. I serviced the auto-med unit and refilled the serum tank. It's been empty for weeks and he needs it to keep up his strength while his lung heals." She sat down on the sofa and stared at her feet. "Like I said, I should have warned you. I'm sorry."

"Yes. While I am sure that that certainly wouldn't have helped matters," Obi-wan started, staring up at her. "I know him well enough to know when something is bothering him. That, doctor... was fear. Fear manifesting itself as anger."

Syrennè shivered and gripped the hood of her robe. The rain hammered down, drenching both her and her master as they stood out on the stone stairs with their backs to the Kaas City palace. Vader's long cloak drifted on the icy wind, the water weighing it down so it resembled a rippling black wave. Her teeth chattered; loud enough to drown out the rasp and hiss of his breathing. For a moment she envied him his armoured bodysuit, dubious that he could even feel the numbing chill on the air. Or perhaps the cold was in actual fact coming from him. It wouldn't be the first time. Her master did seem pretty uptight.

She scanned the city either side. It was not the happiest of places. The sky was black, the rolling storm clouds occasionally illuminated by pockets of sheet lightning that sparked and crackled for miles. Every flash lit up a different piece of the city, highlighting a shimmering grey tower or two here, a reinforced bunker there. Gloomy and oppressing. But truly radiant in the Force.

Staring at the Dark Lord's back, she wondered as to what was to become of her when he departed for Coruscant. Was she going with him to meet the Emperor? Was he going to take her to some exotic Outer-rim world where they could learn more on the ways of the Sith? Each prospect was equally exciting and terrifying. "Master?" she asked.

"What?" he said, not turning around.

"Am I to come with you to Coruscant?"

"No."

All excitement bled from her veins. So, he was leaving her here. How was she supposed to continue her training if her master wasn't going to be around to teach her? The rain got louder. The roaring deluge overpowering her own inner voice. "You're leaving me here! Why?"

"I have need of you here," he said flatly.

"But... what of my training?" she demanded, crossing her arms. "Who will teach me if not you?"

Vader turned to face her. He reached into his belt and pulled out a small disc. "Your remaining here is part of your training," he said, holding the device out between them.

She took the disc, noticed it was a small com-unit and quickly stuffed it in her robe. "I don't understand, Master."

He turned his back to her again. "You will. For now, I want you to contact Commander Appo. Have him gather the Dark Angel's crew and await my presence in the hangar. I will join you there shortly."

She bowed her head. "Yes, my master." Walking away, she pulled the com-unit from her pocket and ascended the stairs. An unexpected chill surged through to her bones. She paused and glanced back.

What is that?

A tall black figure now stood beside him, similar in both height and stature. It shimmered in the dull light... and the rain almost seemed to pass through it. She shook her head and carried on; back up the stairs.