Chapter 16: Ad Perde Fiducia

CORUSCANT: SURECON MEDICAL CENTRE

It was late into the next morning, and Coruscant's skyline was its usual hum of activity. Traffic coursing left and right. Speeders and transports cutting a swathe of lines between the various high-rises cluttering the view. Sidious turned his triangular throne to face the window. To where Vader stood with his back to him; his hands loosely clasped over the cloak by his hips, his newly repaired respirator evenly cycling. The night had been long for the both of them. But, in Sidious' opinion, the time invested, not unworth the effort. For he now had his Apprentice back. And he couldn't be more pleased.

Neither of them had eaten, or slept, or any of the usual activities that lesser enlightened beings would normally busy themselves with during the late hours of the night. They had risen above relying on such primitive necessities. Together, they had meditated — embarked on a much-needed bonding session of sorts. Sure, they both had their secrets. Secrets that neither one of them had shown any desire to disclose or reveal to the other, but, all-in-all, Vader had surrendered, and now, they were back.

Once again, his plan to seduce him had worked. Played out precisely as he had envisioned it would. And now it was time to carry on. To continue to grow and secure their Empire and turn it into the political and military powerhouse that he'd foreseen.

Sidious cleared his throat, eyeing his statuesque Apprentice. "I want you to send one of your Inquisitors to Raada."

Vader didn't move from the window. Sidious patiently waited, and after several minutes passed with no response, he started to think he hadn't heard, or was perhaps ignoring him. But then he answered; slowly, his deep baritone voice subdued and distant.

"What ... is on Raada?"

What was he thinking about? What was he seeing as he gazed out upon the city? He eased out with the Force, tentatively probed one lone, inquiring tendril along their bond. Not too rigorously. He didn't want to raise his suspicion. As expected, his inquest was fruitless. Vader, still unmoved by the window, guarded his thoughts from him — guarded them very carefully.

Sidious leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers together. "Not a great deal. A small farming moon. A facility that provides resources used in the production of ration packs for your trooper corps. The local governor reports of an uprising. One, I suspect, may be of particular interest to you."

Vader continued to stare out the window. "A Jedi?"

"Perhaps..." he said, expecting a bit more of a bite from him, and tapped his fingers together. "Perhaps not. However, reported eye-witness accounts suggest it a likely possibility." He waited for a spike in his emotion, but it never came. And it made him wonder if he was attempting to shield them from him too.

Finally, Vader turned to face him, folded his arms just below his flashing chest plate. "And yet... you do not wish to send me?"

"No, my son," he said, narrowing his gaze, still trying to get a read on him. "I have need of you elsewhere."

Vader stepped from the window, dropped to one knee before him, and submissively lowered his head. "What... is thy bidding, my Master?"

Sidious smiled, allowed his eyes to hungrily devour the sight. From Vader's polished black helmet angled to the floor, all the way down to his midnight cloak splayed along the ground by his knees. Obediently by my side, he thought with a dark chuckle. "Rise, my son."

He rose as instructed, stood beside him at the desk, then hooked his thumbs to his belt.

Sidious turned his chair, brought up the latest coms on his command console. "Reports coming in from Kashyyyk, detail our forces experiencing heavy resistance from local insurgents."

"Kashyyyk?" Vader asked, leaning forward. "The wookie planet? I was of the impression we had that system secured, long ago."

"Yes. As was I. However, it appears this new rebellion has re-energised under the direction of a more substantial threat. One, that left unchecked, could have the potential to cause even more unrest in the Senate." He pulled up the holo-footage of one of their outposts being overrun, and leaned back, just far enough so his apprentice could see.

The translucent blue images flickered from troopers being shot down and trampled, to Wookie commandos tearing apart a satellite dish, and finally to two blue and green lightsabers slicing their way through more and more of their troopers.

Vader stood rigidly upright, balled his hands into fists. "More... Jedi," he growled, spitting the word Jedi with venom.

And for a second, Sidious felt his shields slip, the anger he sensed building inside his young Apprentice momentarily assuaging his concerns. "So, it would seem."

"Do we know how many there are?"

"A manageable number. Sightings from the outpost have revealed three known survivors, with the possibility of more still yet to be confirmed."

"And instead of scattering across the galaxy, they cluster together, making obvious targets of themselves." Vader returned to the window, his anger flowing freely. "Stupid fools."

"Fools, indeed, Lord Vader. Groups are much easier for you to hunt down, yet marginally more difficult to eliminate. But, you prefer a challenge, don't you?"

"Three Jedi are hardly a challenge, Master," he said, turning around and staring him down. "But... Yes, it has been a while."

DROMUND KAAS: KAAS CITY OUTSKIRTS

Syrennè stopped walking and looked to the sky, watched the shimmering silhouette of the Dark Angel flying overhead. There'd been moments over the last several hours where she'd contemplated stowing away on that ship, but Commander Bly and his troopers had had it locked down tighter than the old Jedi Temple archives. She scowled, dropped her hands and tightened them into fists.

Darth Malgus paused beside her, too looked to the sky. "And so... Kaas City's queen has finally departed."

Syrennè adjusted the sodden hood of her drawn-up robe. "Queen..." she snorted, wiping at the irritating moisture on her face. "Yes. Off to try and drag my Master back, I suspect."

Malgus turned to face her, his golden ethereal eyes twinkling beneath the shadowed veil of his cloak. "Is that a touch of jealousy, I sense?"

The rain continued to pour down, pooling and splashing in the soft dirt around their boots. The sky lit up as three forks of lightning ripped their way through the clouds, spider-webbing across the violent stratosphere and highlighting the towering duracrete walls of the forgotten City at their backs.

Thunder rumbled and cracked overhead, and Syrennè growled with it. She turned to glare back at the Sith ghost. "He is my Master. I should be with him. Is it not an Apprentice's proper place to be at their Master's side?"

Malgus chuckled, cocked a brow at her. "But there's more to it, than that... isn't there?"

She tried to ignore his comment and instead looked to the swamp, to the water-logged, knotted trees silently swaying in the shadows. The sound of chirps and warbles twittered on the air from nearby wildlife, interrupted only by the persistent pattering of the rain and the occasional braying howl of some much larger, more ferocious sounding creature. She tugged on her hood again and sighed. It wasn't fair. When Vader had finally bonded with her, he'd up and left for the Capitol before she'd had any real chance of connecting with him properly. And now she was stuck here, light-years away from him, trudging into some Force-forsaken swamp with a Sith ghost who insisted that he was to continue with her training, while her Master's demanding wife jetted off to Coruscant to go and see him. Syrennè clenched her jaw, squeezed her fists tighter, and stared at the swamp ahead in disgust. "She doesn't deserve him."

"Doesn't she now?"

She spun to face the Sith, her sodden robe swirling on the air. "No! He loves her unconditionally. I've felt it through our bond. But she wants him to abandon everything for her! The Jedi, the Sith, all of it and all of us... she can't see my Master for who and what he truly is."

Malgus kept his haunting gaze fixed on hers, his glowing amber eyes flickering like dancing flames in a fire. "And just ... what ... is your Master exactly?" he demanded, his gravelly tone dropping dangerously low.

Taking a step closer, Syrennè sneered, folded her arms and stared the ethereal Sith down. The images of the restrained flaming creature she'd seen when she'd accidentally breached Vader's shields suddenly filled her vision. "If purification by fire is the purpose..." she said coldly, her sharp tone dripping with venom. "Then, he... is the Dragon."

The Sith could read into that however he wished, for she couldn't explain it. All she knew was that it meant something in the Force; the dragon's presence in her subsequent dreams and visions telling her of that much. She turned and started for the swamp. "Now, where was it we were going?" she called out to Malgus over her shoulder. "I grow tired of standing in the rain."

• • •

It felt like they'd been walking for hours. The swamp had gotten thicker —denser— the branches and leaves of the ancient trees knotting together in the canopy, diffusing the rain around them like a leaking shelter. Syrennè wiped the water from her face again and double-stepped to catch up with Malgus. He silently glanced to her before returning his attention to the path ahead.

Syrennè kept pace beside him. "You still haven't told me where we're going," she said, not bothering to mask her frustration.

"Patience. We will be there soon enough," Malgus growled in response. After a few more minutes of silent trudging through the mud and bushes, he spoke again. "Syrennè, what made you want to become Darth Vader's apprentice?" He looked to her then, the red lights either side of his triangular breather momentarily distracting her from his pasty white face. "You were a Jedi, were you not?"

Stunned by the question, Syrennè blinked and continued walking, numbly. Images from her days in the Jedi Temple started to seep into her mind. Malgus turned his gaze away from her and pressed forward, as if patiently awaiting her response. She let out a long breath.

"Anakin Skywalker was one of the most powerful and gifted Jedi in the Order. Many of the padawans idolised him, myself included," she said finally —reflectively— falling into memory as if her long years spent at the temple were now no more than some distant and fanciful dream. Embarrassed, she chuckled quietly to herself and shook her head. "I even had a poster of him hung on the wall next to my bed in my dorm room. The 'Hero With No Fear' they called him, the saviour and defender of the Republic." She chuckled again, more darkly this time. "Only now can I truly appreciate the overwhelming level of irony in that premise."

Malgus eyed her curiously. "What do you mean?"

Syrennè ducked under a low-lying branch and swatted the reeds from her legs as she continued to walk forward. "He laid waste to all of it. Razed the Jedi Temple to the ground, slaughtered hundreds in his quest for power, and handed the Republic over to his Master on a silver platter." She sniggered as she continued. "The man they called the 'Hero With No Fear' was in-actual-fact consumed by it. Terrified of his beloved wife's foreseen death and desperate to do anything in his power to prevent it. He sold his very soul to the Dark Side, forsaking everything and everyone around him in the hopes of saving her. He loved her so hard and so deeply, that he was willing to set the entire galaxy aflame, if that's what it took to keep her at his side." Syrennè looked to Malgus, made no attempt to disguise the longing in her eyes. "That kind of love is what stories are made of. A forbidden fantasy that one never expects to encounter."

The ethereal Sith narrowed his gaze at her. "You know of this... how?"

"I saw his fall through my own eyes, as if I were standing in his place." She took a deep breath before continuing and tried to centre herself, feeling the residual waves of terror and heartache once again washing over her. "During my brief stay on Tatooine, Master Kenobi was seeking answers to questions of his own, and after learning of my visions on Naboo he'd asked me to try something. When I'd agreed, he pulled Skywalker's lightsaber from an old chest and placed it into my hands."

Angry tears welled in her eyes and she rapidly blinked in an effort to force them back. "That's when the visions started. And when it was finally over, after I had seen every gruesome and soul-crushing detail ... I felt this strange connection to him. Like he was somehow in my head. Whispering to me. Calling me to him."

The ethereal Sith didn't offer any immediate response, and instead, allowed an uneasy silence to manifest between them. After several more minutes had been spent, listening to the squelch of mud under their boots as they carried on through the swamp, he finally broke the silence.

"A Retro-cognitive. How interesting..." Malgus muttered, reflectively. "The ability to see echoes and visions by mere touch of an object is a rare and precious gift indeed." A dark, twisted chuckle left his breather, and he suddenly looked to her. "And here I was thinking you were no more than some obsessive, infatuated teenager. I understand Vader's meaning now, when he called you a Seer."

Syrennè considered his words, digested them. She followed Malgus through the thickening growth of the swamp and pulled to a stop beside him when the trees abruptly ended. Before them a massive, rocky cave sat dormant, constructed out of hundreds of large solid grey boulders, semi-concealed by an overgrowth of glistening green moss. The Dark Side of the Force was unusually strong here —even for this corrupted planet's standards— and she could feel its malevolent weight pressing suffocatingly against her chest. She tried to dismiss the sensation, and instead focused on the Sith ghost by her side.

"You said that my Master called me a Seer," she said, turning her face away from the eerie cave. "If he is of the impression that I have this ability, then why did he leave me here, instead of taking me with him on his trip to Coruscant?"

Malgus met her stare and folded his arms. "He knew you were not ready, Syrennè. He couldn't risk taking you to the Capitol and having you being discovered by the Emperor. Sidious would have ordered him to eliminate you. That is why you are here... with me. I am to prepare you for your next journey. Your Master will return for you in due time."

A rumbling growl echoed from the black hole opening of the cave. Syrennè jerked her head back, squinted in the low light to try and see into the darkness. Three pairs of glowing red eyes suddenly appeared in the shadow, slowly making their way closer. An iridescent blue-black nose appeared, followed by a large, horned, black hound-like head, its hissing, snarling muzzle filled with bared razor-sharp teeth. Its massive clawed paws thumped forward, pulling its hulking quadrupedal body from the shadow, the jagged spines lining its back shimmering in the dull light. Two more of the creatures moved into the open, flanking it either side. Syrennè gasped, felt for her lightsaber and again turned to Malgus. "What are those things?" she demanded, pointing to the mammoth black dog-looking beasts emerging from the cave.

"They are Tuk'ata. The first of your trials," Malgus stated with a nod. "Lord Vader awoke more than just the City when he arrived here. Now it is your challenge to gain entry into the tomb they guard... without killing them."

"Wait!" she cried, staring in disbelief as he started to disappear. "Aren't you going to help me? What am I supposed to do?"

Malgus's voice echoed on the wind as he slowly dematerialised. "They answer to your Master. I will tell you that much. Now it is up to you to decide what to do with that knowledge."

She turned back to the three Tuk'ata, hand shaking around the hilt of her weapon, and swallowed. The trio of beasts growled, stalked forward and started to circle her. Igniting her lightsaber, she held it at the ready, and tried to think up a plan. Without killing them, Malgus's words once more echoed inside her head. Perhaps stowing away on the Dark Angel hadn't been such a bad idea after all. "Oh, I have a bad feeling about this," she groaned, staring into the glowing red eyes of the lead Tuk'ata.

CORUSCANT: USCRU ENTERTAINMENT DISTRICT

"I'd forgotten how filthy this place is," Caleb said, pulling his hood in tight around his face. He looked up between the endless lines of grime covered walls surrounding the streets, past the blinding neon signs blinking and flashing, and tried to focus on the thousands of speeders and hovercars zooming between the high-rises kilometres above their heads.

Ferus shook his head and kept walking. "Yes, it does leave a rather nasty taste in your mouth," he agreed.

Caleb turned his attention back to the street, dodging and pushing his way through the heavy crowd, searching for the bar they were supposedly looking for. "What did Senator Organa say the name of this place was again?" he asked, brushing his hands down the front of his robe for the third time this evening.

"The Outlander," Ferus answered, cocking his head to stare at him from beneath the security of his hood. "And stop rubbing at your robe. You'll draw attention to us."

"Sorry, Master," Caleb apologised with a nod, fighting the urge to brush away the filth once more. He tightened his arms over his chest and tucked his hands inside his sleeves, hoping it would help.

The Alderaanian Viceroy had sent them to the Uscru Entertainment District to meet up with some informant, a supposed Imperial rebel sympathiser far too frightened by the Empire to openly defect. They apparently had word of some massive shipment being prepared, one that the Massassi mercenaries would be all too keen to get their hands on.

But Caleb wasn't convinced. What better way to lure your enemies out of hiding, than to dangle a literal treasure trove of supplies and resources out in the open, and patiently wait for someone to come along and take them? No, it was a trap. It had to be. But then again, what did he know? He was just a padawan.

Actually, come to think of it, he wasn't even sure if he was one of them any more, either. What with the Temple being gone, and the Jedi near-on extinct. All things considered, he was lucky to have even made it this far ... especially when so, so many others hadn't. He let out a long, mournful sigh and carried on walking.

Neither him, nor Ferus, had been overly keen on the idea of coming down here. It was too risky. But luckily enough for them, none of the locals seemed to be paying attention to the two Jedi wandering in their midst. The party-goers were probably too drunk, or high on spice to notice. Still, he understood their need for caution. You never could tell when a trooper patrol was going to suddenly appear from behind one of the shadows.

They rounded the next corner, passing under the light of a nearby street lamp and continued on. Ahead and to the right of them, a crowd of drunkards had gathered, grouped together in a half-circle just outside of a rather rough looking drinking establishment. The patrons were yelling and pushing at each other, fighting over who knows what. Probably a gambling deal gone wrong, as was usually the case down here. Caleb kept his hood up and pushed closer to Ferus.

A loud crash, followed by what sounded to be a window breaking rang out through the street. Caleb stopped, turned to look back at the establishment, saw a body suddenly fly through the air and land with a heavy thud on the blacktop several metres away. Angry screams and curses echoed and bounced down the street as the drunkards scrambled, hovered around the battered and beaten human male now lying prone in the middle of the road. Caleb couldn't help but to stare, and he felt Ferus move in beside him, place his hand comfortingly upon his shoulder. He looked up to his Master, saw the forlorn look in his weary brown eyes.

"We cannot get involved," Ferus said to him, softly, trying to keep his voice low.

Caleb sighed, turned back to stare at the broken man in the street. "I know..."

"Get out of my way!" an angry voice called out, and Caleb instinctually bristled at the sound of it. He looked up, watched as two figures stormed from the establishment. A tall, green-skinned reptilian Trandoshan, and some slightly shorter being, one encased head to foot in blaster-scorched Mandalorian armour.

The Mandalorian forced his way through the crowd, pushing at any drunkard too slow to react. He grabbed a dark-bearded man by the scruff of the neck and shoved him aside. "I said, get out of my way!" he yelled, crossing the road to get to his bounty. Behind him, the Trandoshan snarled threateningly at the bearded man as he went to right himself.

Dispersing, the patrons stood far and wide, stared at the odd-looking pair as they made their way for the broken man. Thumping his knee down onto the man's back, the Mandalorian bent forward, grabbed a fistful of hair and roughly yanked his head up. "You didn't think you were going to get away from me that easily, did you?"

The road was painted red with blood, the battered man coughing and spluttering, choking on his own fluids, making no obvious move to resist the armoured man kneeling on his back. Releasing him, the Mandalorian shifted, slowly lifted his helmeted head to look directly at Caleb and his master.

For a long moment Caleb stared, felt the spine-tingling sensation of the Mandalorian's gaze steadily fixed upon him. Then, the armoured man stood up, gestured to his reptilian companion waiting behind. Without breaking his gaze, he stepped over the human at his feet, moved to the side, and called out to the Trandoshan in his familiar, clone-trooper sounding voice. "Bossk. Cuff him. Then escort him back to the ship and prepare for take-off."

His green-skinned accomplice growled in acceptance, and immediately pulled out a pair of restraining manacles from his otherwise normal looking flight-suit. Bending down, he fastened them around the still prone-lying human male's wrists and yanked him to his feet. While he did so, the Mandalorian continued to stare, watching Caleb and his master on the other side of the street. Then, he raised his left arm and tapped at the armoured plating on his wrist.

"I think it's time we got moving," Ferus whispered, tugging at his sleeve, a sudden hint of urgency colouring his usually calm voice.

"Yeah..." Caleb muttered, unable to pull his eyes away. "I ... I think you might be right."

Using the Force to mask his presence, Caleb followed his Master into the throng of beings crowding the street, and slipped seamlessly into the shadows.

The Outlander Club, located at the far end of the street, was easy to distinguish. Its large oval shaped entrance was surrounded by brightly lit neon lights that glowed a brilliant cool yellow. To either side, smaller neon signs were illuminated, these ones red with strange writing on them, writing that Caleb couldn't decipher. There was a steady stream of unsavoury individuals both coming and going from the club, all passing by him and his master without bothering to give them a second glance.

"Looks like this is the place," Ferus whispered, folding his arms casually, as they paused before the gaudy entrance.

"Yeah... classy," Caleb said, eyeing a sleazy, bloated looking Imperial officer as he walked out through the doors, his flabby arm draped over the slim shoulders of some scantily-dressed, lavender-skinned twi'lek girl. Her long lekku jiggled from side-to-side as the officer staggered forward, the Imperial clearly struggling to stay on his feet.

Caleb shuddered. "No need to try and guess what's going on there."

His Master, however, didn't respond; just gave him 'the look'. The one that said "follow my lead, and don't say anything". Without saying a word, he turned away and started for the club entrance. Caleb obediently fell into step behind him.

• • •

Engines rumbling, the Dark Angel gracefully touched down on the elevated landing platform just across from the towering, repurposed fortress once known as 500 Republica. News of its change in ownership had been kept relatively quiet, with only a handful of the uppermost echelons of the Imperial ruling council being made aware of its transition into her husband's own personal military stronghold. During her trip from Dromund Kaas Padmè had made it her first priority to find out as much as she could about the inner-workings of the Empire's so-called Galactic Senate and its politics. To her surprise many things had remained unchanged.

Regional Moffs and Governors had been appointed to oversee the prominent sectors of the Core and Mid-rim regions, but the greater part of the Outer-rim had been largely abandoned. Just as it had during the days of the Republic. The only notable exception being the appointment of Moff Wilhuff Tarkin to oversee and govern the Arkanis Sector — which incorporated both Tatooine and Geonosis.

An uncomfortable shiver wormed its way through her at the memory of her time spent at both worlds, and she rubbed at her swelling abdomen. Her mother-in-law's death. Her husband's first taste of vengeance and blood-lust. And of course, the day she'd openly admitted how she truly felt to the troubled Jedi stood in the cart beside her as they were marched to their deaths. She sighed at the memory, marvelling in wonder at how quickly and efficiently everything had changed. All because of one man. Emperor Palpatine.

A loud knock sounded from the suite door and she quickly closed her terminal. "Come in," she called, turning around at her desk.

Commander Bly stood in the open doorway, looking quite the part in his Naboo Royal Guard uniform. He bowed before her. "We have arrived on Coruscant, Lady Vader," he said, lowering his hands to his back. "A shuttle is waiting on the platform to ferry you to Lord Vader's fortress."

"Thank you, Commander. I shall be out in a moment," she said, offering him a half-hearted smile.

"As you wish, my lady." He bowed again, then turned and closed the door behind him.

She paused and stared at the closed terminal before her on the desk. No doubt her Sith husband would be impatiently waiting for her at the apartment when she arrived, knowing better than to openly declare their relationship to the many prying eyes of the City's populace. If she were to be successful in her mission to infiltrate the growing rebellion and spy on Bail and Mon Mothma, her affiliation with the Dark Lord was going to have to remain secret. No-one outside of their immediate circle could know the real truth of their continued marriage.

Despite knowing this, a big part of her still hoped he would be standing by the shuttle on the platform, eagerly waiting to escort her. She glanced to Threepio still powered down and charging in the corner, and a lump rose in her throat. They hadn't parted on the best of terms when he'd left Kaas City. In-fact things between them had been quite rocky, if she were being honest with herself. She'd lashed out angrily at him, cutting him off mid-sentence and not allowing him to speak. And she knew that she'd hurt him, could tell just by the clipped words that'd left his vocabulator seconds before he'd turned and stormed through their bedroom door. "I will never stop loving you, Padmè. That... I can promise you." She sighed and rose from her seat. Leave it to Anakin to make a declaration of love, and then twist it in such a way, that the very words themselves sounded more like some veiled threat than an admission of affection.

Disconnecting his charging socket, Padmè flicked the switch to her golden protocol droid and waited for him to power up. She'd contemplated leaving him with Obi-wan so he could help with the twins while she was gone, but had quickly thought better of it. Threepio belonged with her. The droid as representative to her of her marriage vows to Anakin, as much as Artoo was of his, to him. Leaving Threepio behind just felt ... wrong.

His photoreceptors lit up, and he turned his yellow-plated head from side to side before focusing on her. "Oh, Miss Padmè," he said, his servo-motors and gyros noisily buzzing and clicking into operation as he quickly found his bearings. "How might I be of service?"

She smiled sadly at her innocent friend and turned to retrieve her bag. "Come along, Threepio. We have arrived at Coruscant, and the shuttle is waiting for us."

As she'd expected, Anakin wasn't waiting for her on the platform; only Commander Bly, his troopers and her makeshift handmaiden, Niobè. They were all stood by the shuttle watching as she descended the boarding ramp with Threepio in tow. The instant her boot touched the platform the troopers surrounded her, quickly chaperoning her into the awaiting shuttle. She followed without hesitation and was soon taking her seat inside the passenger cabin. Minutes later, they were airborne.

When she finally reached her apartment, her nerves were on edge. How was he going to react? Would he be happy to see her and sweep her into his strong embrace? Or would he be standoffish and closed down after their argument, and make her work hard for his affection? The thought alone being enough to have her feet cemented to the floor, and her hand shaking over the turbo-lift release.

"Would you like me to open the door for you, my lady?" Commander Bly asked, standing patiently beside her.

Padmé shook her head. "No... no, thank you, Commander. I just need a moment." Mustering her strength, she hit the door release and stared straight ahead, watching as her apartment appeared before her.

She blinked. Her gaze drifted from empty corner to empty corner. The lights were all out. The twin yellow sofas sat vacant. And there was a noticeable absence of a certain hissing respirator that she had been sure would be there. Then the realization hit — Anakin wasn't here.

"Is everything alright?" Bly asked, the sound of his familiar voice jolting her from her thoughts. "Would you like us to do a sweep, just in case?"

"No... that won't be necessary," she whispered, blinking again, fighting back yet another uncomfortable lump lodged in her throat. "I just expected..." She let her words trail off, unsure whether to finish the sentence. Picking up her bag, she stood tall, took a deep breath, and exited the turbo-lift.

Walking through the empty apartment to her bedroom, she couldn't help but wonder why he wasn't here. Was he alright? Were they alright? Had he decided not to show up because he was still angry at her? It was possible, he'd been ever so moody lately. But what if it wasn't any of that? What if Palpatine had done something to him — something horrible — and he was lying alone somewhere, suffering?

Lost in thought, she lowered her bag onto the bed and started to unpack. A loud twitter suddenly pierced the silence. She dropped her dress and spun around. "Artoo!" she cried, staring in shock at the little astromech rolling out from the wardrobe. "What are you doing here? Where's Anakin?"

Artoo rocked side to side on his treads, let out a string of panicked whistles and beeps, and spun his domed head left and right like he was looking for something. She couldn't understand a word he was saying, but his fretful tone was more than enough to have her worried.

"Artoo! It is you... It is you!" a voice echoed from behind, and Padmè looked to the door to see her golden protocol droid scuttling into the bedroom as fast as his two robotic legs could manage.

"Threepio, come here," she said, beckoning him over. "I need you to translate what he is saying." As he hurried to her side, she turned back to the astromech and asked him to continue. Artoo repeated his statement, his chirps and whistles taking on a surprisingly angry tone.

"I believe, what Artoo is trying to say..." Threepio said, looking to her. "Is that he has not seen or heard from Master Vader since he departed their shuttle for the Senate Building, more than two standard days ago."

The astromech continued to twitter, rocking side to side again, seeming to get more and more irritated.

"Artoo says, that after several hours of waiting, the troopers returned to the ship, and he was brought back here without him. He has tried several times since to make contact..." Threepio paused in his translation and slowly turned his photoreceptors to her, his voice going grim. "But he has, so far, been ... unsuccessful."

Padmè looked between the two droids and squeezed her hands tight. She knew in her gut that Anakin would've wanted to be here when she got back. If he wasn't here, it was because he was being kept away. Kept busy or distracted, or even restrained somewhere, unable to break free. And she knew without doubt exactly who would be working to keep him away from her, and precisely where she needed to go to confront that someone. Gritting her teeth, filled with purpose and determination, she turned and charged for the door.

"But Miss Padmè, where are you going?" Threepio called out from behind her.

The bedroom door slid open, and Padmè stopped briefly in the threshold, glancing back over her shoulder to the inquisitive droid. "I am going to find him, Threepio. I am not going to just sit around here doing nothing, while Palpatine twists his mind into knots and tries to rip us apart."

When Padmé reached the sitting room, she noticed Commander Bly, his troopers and Niobè all gathered by the turbo-lift, their backs facing her. No doubt her husband's loyal servants were going to try and prevent her from leaving, but that was one promise they would be struggling to keep. Nothing was going to stop her from getting to Anakin. Nothing. Passing between the yellow sofas, she grabbed her robe from the armrest and quickly shrugged into it, not slowing her stride.

As she neared closer to the group, they suddenly went quiet and moved aside, splitting down the middle, making her path toward the awaiting exit all the more accessible. Only... there was one still standing in her way.

Padmé stopped in the open space between the split group, floored by the figure standing before her. A woman with dark brown hair neatly crested atop her head in a loose bun. Her deep chocolate eyes, wide and glistening with unshed tears, stared straight at her as if she were seeing a ghost. Her face, as familiar to Padmé as her very own reflection.

The woman smiled. "Good evening, Milady," she said, the melodic sound of her formal and affectionate greeting like music to her ears.

"Dormé..." Padmé whispered, her hands trembling by her open mouth. Tears staining her cheeks, she tried to shake off the initial shock of seeing her old handmaiden and most trusted best friend, and started toward her. Dormé met her in the middle, and the two women embraced.

After a few tear filled minutes, Padmé pulled out of her handmaiden's arms and slowly led her through the apartment to the yellow sofas. "I don't believe it," she said, taking a seat beside her long friend. "How did you... who told you I was here?"

Dormé smiled, and for a moment, looked to the small glass table positioned before them. "I was summoned to Theed Palace by Moff Panaka, about a week ago," she answered distantly.

"Moff Panaka?" Padmé repeated, taken slightly aback by the new title bestowed upon her former head of security.

Dormé chuckled. "Yes, I know. Both Gregar and I believe, he's let his new power go to his head, too." She sighed and rung her hands together in her lap. "Anyway, when I got there, he took me to the throne room, where I was greeted via holo-call by Lord Vader."

"He personally called you?" Padmé asked, shifting forward in her seat.

"I was as surprised as what you are," Dormé said, meeting her stare. "He asked me to come to the Capitol to serve as your handmaiden, and to train Niobè. He said that you were returning to office as a personal favour to the Emperor." She smiled, placed her hand comfortingly upon Padmé's knee. "As puzzled as I was by the request, I agreed."

Padmé sat silent for a moment, digested her friend's statement. After a minute, she stood up, walked over to the transparisteel window, and stared blindly at the city. "Did he say anything else about me?" she asked, not turning around. "Like where I've been, or how he knows me?"

"No. And it wasn't my place to ask, milady. After the news of your death, and the pain of attending your state funeral, I'm just relieved to see you safe and well."

"Forgive me, Dormé," Padmé apologised, realising how hard her handmaiden would have taken the news. She trailed her fingers along the edges of her wrist-com, her gaze lost in the headlights of the distant city traffic, contemplating trying to contact Anakin again. If she could just speak to him, even if only for a second, she would feel better, knowing that he was alright. Then at least she could understand his reasoning behind bringing Dormé into all of this. Not that she wasn't grateful for her handmaiden's assistance. She was. It was just that now she was left wondering if there was some underlying motivation behind it. Something he hadn't told her about. She shook her head in frustration. If only he wasn't so secretive all of the time.

Dormé cleared her throat. "Milady, since hearing that you were reprising your role as Senator, I took the liberty of contacting your office and preparing your schedule. I presumed you wouldn't mind."

"Thank you, Dormé. Although, I do hope you left me time to sleep," Padmé said with a soft chuckle, turning around to smile at her on the sofa.

"Of course, milady," the handmaiden said, smiling back. "However, Senator Organa has expressed interest in meeting with you at your earliest convenience. He didn't elaborate as to why, but it seemed quite urgent."

Padmé's smile fell again, the reality of her situation weighing heavily on her shoulders. Her promise to spy on her old friends was already feeling like too heavy a burden to carry. She looked to the floor, her fingers once more finding their way to her wrist-com. "Yes, I imagine it is," she whispered. Shaking off her unease, she squared herself and took a deep breath, finally making her mind up about what to do. "Dormé," she said, looking to her, "please make contact with the Viceroy. Let him know, that I can meet with him this evening, he simply needs to inform me of when, and where." The handmaiden's curious stare followed her as she turned and made for her bedroom. "I need to be alone for a moment," Padmé said, already lifting her wrist into call position. "Please, wait here until I return."

"As you wish, milady."

The bedroom door closed behind her. Artoo and Threepio stared as she paced back and forth by the bed, her fingers hurriedly keying in the private sequence her husband had programmed into her com.

Artoo twittered a question, one she presumed to be about what she was doing. "I am calling him again, Artoo. He has to answer sooner or later," she said, continuing to pace, listening intently to the beeps of the com attempting to make a connection. It beeped and beeped, and her heart grew heavy. Again, he wasn't going to pick-up.

Then, just as she moved to end the call, the beeping stopped, and he answered —audio only— and she could hear the steady rasp of his respirator. Heart pounding, Padmé nervously opened her mouth to say his name, when his stern baritone voice silenced her.

"Do not speak."

So, she didn't. Instead, she listened to the vibrant chatter going off in the background. The hum of engines. The rattle of armour. The voices of troopers. He spoke again; not to her, but to someone else who must have been accompanying him.

"No, Captain. Depart for the surface. Upon landing, set-up the defensive perimeter, and await my arrival. Make no move to engage until I get there."

"Yes, Lord Vader," a voice she recognised as one of his troopers replied.

She remembered that commanding tone all too well. He was going into battle? But where, and why? The distant noises quietened, and she guessed he must have moved to somewhere a little more private. But still he kept the video link disabled.

"This is not the most opportune of times, Padmé," Vader growled, his words clipped and tight. "What's wrong?"

She swallowed and found her voice. "I am back on Coruscant. Where are you?"

"Off-world. Dealing with something. Why?" he growled again.

His aggressive and impatient tone was annoying. She'd been trying to reach him for days, and now, when he'd finally answered, he was snapping at her. Her worry quickly turned into anger.

"I have been calling you non-stop, Anakin! You never answer. I was getting worried. You said you would always answer, no matter what."

A distorted grunt echoed over the call. "I don't have time to argue with you over this. We'll discuss it when I return from my mission."

"Your mission? What mission? I thought you said the war was over. Why are you heading into battle?" she demanded, suddenly aware that she was practically yelling at him, and before he could respond, she tried to calm down. "I just want to talk with you, Ani. You know... about your message. I'd hoped you would be here. I miss you."

This time she could've sworn she'd heard him sigh. And he too, seemed slightly calmer — slightly.

"The war is over, Padmé, but some systems are too ignorant to understand that." He huffed again. "Now, I must go. We will talk more when I return. Until then, stay out of trouble."

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Well that was a long one. I could've kept going but thought that was as good a place to end it as any. Hope you guys enjoy it.

Wow the reviews, thank you all so much for your wonderful insights, you guys are beyond amazing! I feel so privileged and humbled by your responses.

Morality is a Spook: I too have always felt that Palpatine cared for Anakin/Vader in his own sick and twisted way. His reaction to him lying on the shore on Mustafar was more than just that of disappointment and contempt. "Goodspeed you magnificent bastard" that made my day.

Guest: Padmé feels Obi-wan was responsible for protecting his nine-year-old padawan from a predator. The same as any parent would protect their child, I guess. He should have seen the warning signs; their relationship was far from normal. You're right though, Padmé and Anakin/Vader are both trying to control each other, and it's driven by deep-seated insecurity and trauma.

Lady Amidala Skywalker: I am so glad you are enjoying it. Hearing that is so humbling. As for his good looks and health, well that all depends on him and what he wants. And whether he deems he is worthy of being "repaired".

Lori Black: Padmé's dream was an important turning point for her, all though not quite obvious yet. Anakin/Vader was always running from himself, it's one of the reasons he fell in the first place, he couldn't face his fears. Obi-wan becomes more than just a substitute marriage counsellor in time, stay tuned. Syrennè and Vader are an entertaining dynamic to play with. It's like a complete role reversal of him and Padmé. Let's see how he deals with it. Lol.

Sfloresf: Count Dooku's execution in the novelisation of Revenge of the Sith was one of the main tipping points for Anakin. You can actually hear, as a reader, the exact point where Anakin starts to disassociate. He thinks back on the event as if it happened to someone else. It is truly interesting, especially with how well Matthew Stover crafted the scene, it is one of my favourites.

Guest: I am so glad you are enjoying it.

Finally, my sincerest apologies for the extended waits, who knew chasing a career and trying to write would be so difficult to time manage.

Thank you for reading, and as always...

MTFBWY