Chapter Three

Icy fingers of frost crept up the darkened transparisteel viewport of the private chambers of Darth Vader, like claws holding to a diminishing surface. The hyperbaric facilities were kept clinically cold due to his condition anyway, but this morning the temperature seemed to have plummeted past cold to frigid. He had already managed to complete many of tasks he had planned for the length of his stay in the time that he had been here. He finished documenting the staffing situation on the station that would be located in the orbit of the small moon Endor and decided he would make the holotransmission to the Executor in the study downstairs.

The transmission completed, he rose from study's the ornate desk to look at the snow through the viewport. It was something of an enigma to him, as he had never experienced it in detail until his time on Naboo. There had been snow on Ilum, where he made his first lightsaber, but it was hard and inhospitable, so different from the flakes that had blanketed the Lake House the first holiday that he had spent there with his wife.

"And what is the big, bad Jedi going to do when a snowball hits him right between the eyes?" Padme's eyes twinkled with mischief. In her upturned hand she held a snowball the size of a large guranga fruit.

"He is going to grab the naughty, little senator and carry her back to the house and make her listen to Threepio tell the genealogical history of the four hundred and eighty-seven diplomatic clans of the Livuarian monks of Ithor. How's that for aggressive negotiations? Huh?" Anakin raised a brow mockingly to emphasize the seriousness of his threat.

Padme drew her hand back even more. She grinned and raised her brows, drawing back to throw the wet projectile at her husband, but before the snowball could leave her hand, Anakin ran and grabbed her from behind. He broke her fall with his body and laughed as she looked at him in offense.

"That is not fair!" Padme playfully slapped his chest. "You used the Force! You had to, that was way too fast!" She slapped him again on the chest, harder this time. "That's it. This is war."

He opened his mouth to protest when his wife brought a whole handful of scooped snow down on his face. She sat up to straddle him and laughed out loud at the look of sheer surprise on his face.

"Geez, Padme! That was cold! I'm from a warm planet, remember?" He started to get up when she leaned down and placed both gloved hands on the ground beside his head. She then placed her mouth a mere centimeter from his, her breath meeting the fog of his in the cold.

"Oh no, you were being a bully, throwing your weight around like you were some sort of Jedi Knight or Sith Lord or something," she smiled as she moved even closer.

"Now you must pay," she said as she lowered her lips to his. Anakin forgot all about the cold and the snow.

Vader shook himself from the reverie. He very rarely indulged in memories, choosing to bat them away insignificantly when they crept up. Or at least he did before. It seemed that he was losing control over some of the capacity he had gained for shutting the past out. He despised feeling this lack of control. If it had been a sentient being that reminded him of his painful past, he could dispose of them. In fact, he normally did. But how did one keep oneself from visiting old, painful memories, especially when the search for a son brought them so vividly to the fore?

It occurred to him that he was, perhaps, fooling himself and it troubled him greatly. Over the years, he had unconsciously surrounded himself with reminders of his past. The girl, Myr, was one. He frowned under the mask. He could not put his finger on who she reminded him of, but he respected her gentle practicality and innate nobility. To share a residence with him, no matter how infrequently, took courage.

He knew the girl had been standing in the corridor for most of the time he had been in the study; he had felt it the moment she arrived. Normally he would have said something, but he decided to indulge her curiosity. He was in a rare generous mood today. He turned towards her and said, "What is it?"

Myr nearly jumped from her skin when Lord Vader addressed her. She had thought she was being inconspicuous, she should have known better. Now what was she to say? I'm sorry, Lord Vader. I was just standing here wondering if you were standing there thinking about your past… She stopped the train of thought midway, horrified. She sometimes forgot the man could read minds.

He stood motionless, his hands resting on his belt, and she had the most peculiar sensation that he was frowning at her as if she were some afflicted imbecile. "What is it?" He asked again, causing her to jump.

"I'm s-sorry, my Lord," she stammered. "I was wondering if you would be staying as long as you had originally planned. It appears that you were very productive in your tasks."

He turned to look out the window for a second, crossed his arms and then turned back to her. "Yes. I will be staying." He stood there still, unflinching and expectant, and Myr realized he wasn't wearing the cape.

She knew there had been something different when he turned to her, she just couldn't place it exactly. She found herself surprisingly pleased that he had said that he would be staying. She mentally shook herself and continued, "Wonderful, My Lord. I will tell the rest of the staff to expect you through the holidays. The entire planet is delighted that you will be here." She dropped a small curtsey and left.

Vader stood for a second before gathering his things to take back to his private chambers. The girl was a bit capricious, from what he could tell, and very naive. He was still affected by the exchange; he didn't deal with civilians well. He never had. There had never really been a time when he was a civilian; he was uncomfortable in social settings. Not that it mattered. He had no interest in how people perceived him. In fact, the less he had to deal with others, the better.

Myr watched him leave to go to his private chambers and walked inside to the study. On the chair behind the desk lay his cape. She picked it up and rushed to the foyer, but the lift doors were closing.

She looked down at the garment in her hand and wondered how many had ever gotten this close it. It was a fine wool crêpe with a heavy silk lining and when she moved her fingers along the edges, it flowed over them like water. Before she knew what she was doing she held it up to her face, surprised by the faint smell of clean leather.

To be continued…