Title: Safekeeping

Author(s): gauss1
Timeframe: ANH, flashback to ROTS

Genre: AU, Drama, Angst, a little A/P fluff, and some pathetic attempts at light humor
Summary: The destruction of Alderaan triggers an old memory for Darth Vader

Notes: This story is in response to the Quotation Roulette Challenge over on another site.

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought – Percy Bysshe Shelley

Unlike the opulent, carpeted hallways of many of the government buildings built during the height of the Old Republic, the interior corridors of the Death Star were designed with pure efficiency and function in mind. From the cold, impersonal steel walls to the hard, gleaming floors, there was no doubt that the architects had carefully planned each detail to convey an overall sense of austerity, precision, and intimidation. Unfortunately, the intended effect was nearly ruined by the heavy figure running frantically through the halls, awkwardly cutting through neat formations of stormtroopers and clusters of officers. I'm late again, the young man cursed.

Ensign Dug Myfel, junior officer in the Imperial Navy, continued to berate himself as he scurried closer to the bridge. He knew that his position on the Death Star was a sinecure – certainly, his abysmal scores at the Academy hadn't warranted such a choice placement – and he lived in mortal fear of angering his father, whose considerable influence was responsible for his fledgling military career, with reports of ineptitude. After all, corruption and nepotism could only take a man so far. Even in the Empire.

Before making his appearance on the bridge, Dug paused for a moment and tried in vain to collect himself, straightening the cap on his sweaty mop of hair and willing his rapid breathing to return to normal. Summoning as much stealth as his clumsy body could muster, he attempted to slink in unnoticed - with any luck, his absence might not have been…

"Ensign."

Caught. He froze in mid-stride and turned to face the voice. "Sir?"

Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin's cold eyes raked over Dug's form, causing him to straighten his posture self-consciously. With a mental groan, Dug remembered the greasy stain from breakfast on his slightly disheveled black tunic, and fervently hoped it wasn't too noticeable. Under normal circumstances, any personal attention from the powerful Moff was to be desired by a young officer seeking advancement; however, it often seemed as though Tarkin went out of his way to dissect his flaws. And unfortunately, despite Dug's best efforts, he always managed to present Tarkin with a wide array from which to choose.

"You are late." Those three simple words dripped with utter contempt, drawn from an apparently infinite well of loathing.

Dug cringed under the microscope of Tarkin's regard, preparing himself for the inevitable public dressing down. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the other bridge officers sharing cautious looks of amusement, and scowled. They all hate me. Someday, I'll make them pay.

To his extreme surprise however, the expected verbal lashing never came. "Go fetch Lord Vader from the observation deck."

Dug's eyebrows shot up in confusion. Lord Vader? To be honest, the dark figure scared him to death. Even with his outsider status, Dug had heard the rumors among the other officers of the unnatural abilities and supernatural strength of the enigmatic black shadow, as well as stories about his legendary short temper when it came to incompetence and bumbling. Bearing this fact in mind, Dug had wisely kept out of his way as much as possible.

And yet…perhaps getting some face time with Vader would be a good idea. It was a simple job, really, something I can't possibly mess up, and completing a task successfully could actually make me look good…well, competent at least. He frowned. Why am I being given this opportunity?

Tarkin could hear each of the thoughts crossing his mind as clearly as if he had spoken them out loud. His lip curled.

"Think of it as a…reward for your continual tardiness," he said sardonically.

As he traveled the corridors of the Death Star again, this time at a more dignified pace, Dug again pondered his unusual assignment. He wondered if it had anything to do with the recent successful destruction of Alderaan and the high-ranking Imperial senator who was being held prisoner. She was a princess, he knew, and apparently dangerous. She was also very beautiful and brave, and Dug had felt an unexpected twinge of sympathy for her as she watched her home planet being destroyed. He knew it was completely ridiculous to think of her in a personal way, but still allowed his thoughts to wander in wishful fantasy. His imagination, fuelled by the romance holonovels he kept hidden under his bunk, tantalized him with the possibilities and he suddenly came to a bold decision. Perhaps after fetching Lord Vader, he would go and visit her in her cell block. He just wanted to talk with her, possibly get to know her a little better.

Who knows, maybe a princess and a guy like me…

Staring out into the blackness of space, Darth Vader stood silently on the observation deck, willing the indescribable pain in the Force to subside.

He had sought solitude after witnessing Tarkin's little "demonstration," a move that had angered him as being unnecessary. Massive, senseless destruction was never an effective tool – Vader believed in applying calculated amounts of fear, death, and intimidation with surgical precision to accomplish his goals. Tarkin was ruthless and intelligent, but often too crude in his methods. And he had badly underestimated the princess; Vader sensed that Tarkin's actions only strengthened her defiance and resolve to fight.

However, he had been unprepared for the searing stab of agony caused by the sudden annihilation of hundreds of trillions of life forms in the Force. In one blinding instant, he was enveloped by the collective emotions and fears of countless beings; he could even sense their anguish and helpless despair. They were mothers and fathers, children and comrades, and their heartbreaking screams deafened him - only to be instantaneously replaced by an ominous silence and an aching void in the Force. The resulting pain had almost brought him to his knees, but he refused to show any weakness in public - especially in front of those who were blind to the mysteries of the Force.

He had sensed a similar pain coming from the petite woman who stood in front of him, trapped against his form, and was strangely unsettled. There was something…familiar about her, something unique about her presence that stirred up long-buried memories. Perhaps it was simply the lingering echoes from Alderaan that had brought out old associations, but he could feel something in the Force. Something recognizable. It whispered to him of the past, awakening the old demons he thought he had long defeated. Vader frowned, searching his feelings, cautiously exploring his emotions…

Suddenly he stiffened; he was not alone.

Dug stood in front of door panel to the observation deck, gathering his courage and nervously rehearsing what he would say: Lord Vader, your presence is requested on the bridge…Lord Vader, please allow me to escort you to the bridge…With each second that passed, he could feel his earlier bravado slipping away.

Lord Vader, I was sent to bring you to the bridge, please don't hurt me…

Vader reached out with the Force and encountered Ensign Myfel's presence. He quickly withdrew – he had no desire to waste his time deciphering the banal impressions of an inconsequential officer – but in that instant of connection, he had picked up the surface thoughts from the man. There was the ubiquitous fear and trepidation, which was to be expected, but also feelings of…tenderness?

Did that paltry creature actually fancy himself to be in love with the princess?

Inexplicable, absolute contempt coursed through Vader. What did that soft, pathetic thing know about love – truly electrifying, soul-destroying, all-encompassing love? This creature standing behind the door had all of the soul and spirit of a Tatooine sand bug; even if he tried with every fiber of his wretched being to imagine what the sensations were like, he could never feel in his entire lifetime the smallest fraction of what Vader had experienced in a single moment. He flatters himself a romantic, he realized derisively, sensing the boy's deplorable naïveté. He allows himself to be duped by the pale imitation of 'love' based on the idiotic tripe he reads. What an utter fool.

Vader knew the difference.

"Anakin Skywalker, you give me that back right now!"

She was definitely furious: eyes flashing, chest heaving, small hands clenched into fists. Her voice had the unmistakable steel that reduced her political opponents to quivering submission; her stiff posture unconsciously mimicked her former royal station. She was every inch the warrior queen, the regal Senator, the woman who had coolly baited a nexu and had the battle scars to prove it.

He found her completely adorable.

Anakin had slipped away during the early afternoon to surprise Padmé at her Coruscant apartment. He knew that she worried about the holonet reporters discovering their secret relationship - but how could he stay away after months of forced separation? Night, and cover of darkness, was a lifetime away, and he was tired of being cautious.

Moving stealthily through the elegant space, he had finally spotted her alone in the bedroom – curled up on top of the bed and surrounded by piles of work, of course. And yet, despite her legendary dedication to her duties, she seemed almost too engrossed in the data reader – he would almost say enthralled? She hadn't even sensed his presence this time, which was certainly unusual; due to their strong bond, it was difficult to catch her off-guard, even when using his best Jedi tricks.

Well, whatever it was that she was reading, no matter how fascinating, would have to go now that he was here.

"Working hard as usual?"

Her head shot up to see her husband lounging by the entrance to her bedroom. "Anakin! What are you doing here?" Her evident surprise was quickly replaced by an elation which let him know that his impromptu visit wasn't entirely unwelcome.

He pushed off from the wall and sauntered towards the bed. "I just wanted to see you again, Padmé. I missed you."

She laughed at his impatience. "You just saw me a few hours ago!"

He gave her a wounded look, crossing his mechanical hand over his heart with a gallant flourish. "You must know that every moment away from you is an eternity, milady."

Padmé shook her head at his exaggerated gesture, but couldn't entirely suppress the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Well, now that you are here," she said thoughtfully, "I suppose it would be a terrible waste to have you leave so soon."

He admired her practical mind. "Exactly." Anakin sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb her files, and glanced at the document reader she was still holding. "What are you reading?"

She flushed slightly. "Oh, nothing." Her hasty attempts to hide it under the piles of files only further piqued his curiosity.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing, Ani. Leave it."

What started out as an idle question now became a mission. He tried to reach for it. "No, really…"

"Ani…" She batted his hands away.

"I just want to know." Persistence is the way of the Jedi.

"Anakin." Persistence is also the way to get in big trouble with your wife.

He knew he would pay dearly for his transgression, but his curiosity, elevated to unprecedented levels by the mysterious actions of his wife, was simply impossible to resist. Using the Force, he summoned the data pad from the hands of the outraged senator.

"Anakin, that's not fair! Give it back to me!" Using his superior height and reach to his advantage, he fended her off enough to glance at the words on the data pad. His eyes widened in shock.

"Padmé, you read romance holonovels?" His voice was incredulous.

Standing up, she finally managed to snatch the reader away from him. Cradling it protectively to her chest, she threw him a scornful look. "It happens to be a serious work of historical fiction, with a few small…embellishments thrown in," she said defensively.

Oh, this was just too good to pass up.

"You read romance holonovels?" he repeated with a wicked grin. He couldn't believe it: Padmé Amidala, esteemed senator from Naboo, the most serious, mature, responsible woman in the galaxy, apparently spent her spare time reading about barely-clothed fictional princesses falling in love with hunky space pirates. The mind boggled.

She flushed in humiliation. "It's just a silly little diversion, Ani. I read them to relax."

Try as he might, he couldn't get his head around the concept of his wife reading frivolous holonovels for relaxation. "Why, Padmé?" he grimaced.

"They're an escape from my normal, stressful day. Have you ever read one?" she challenged.

Now his manhood was affronted. "Of course not!"

"Then how can you possibly pass judgment on me for reading them?"

"I'm not passing judgment, Padmé - I just can't picture you liking them, that's all. And I don't have to read them to know why I don't like them. I can tell: the stories are full of stupid, two-dimensional characters put into unrealistic situations. They're written by people who have no idea what real love is like."

She was getting really angry now. "And I suppose you could do better?"

"As a matter of fact, I can."

"Oh, really?" Her voice was positively glacial. He was on dangerous ground here.

"Well, I happen to know this amazing story about a young boy who vowed to marry a beautiful queen…"

She was still glaring at him. Not a good sign.

Well, you're really in for it now. Still, he pressed on, coaxing her. "And even though they parted, he thought about her every day for ten years. He later became a Jedi, and when he finally saw her again…she took his breath away."

He noticed that despite her attempts to stay angry, her expression softened ever so slightly with remembrance. Encouraged, he continued speaking earnestly, trying his utmost to charm her. "For her protection, he escorted her to Naboo, and there he kissed her for the first time. And it was intoxicating." To his intense relief, she actually smiled.

"They traveled together to Tatooine…" He paused as the pain from his mother's death washed over him again; some wounds would never heal. Padmé's eyes filled with compassion for his loss. "…and later to Geonosis, where the beautiful queen told him she loved him…"

She threw her arms around his neck, all pretense at anger now gone.

"I do love you, Anakin," she said breathlessly. "More than anything."

"And I'm so in love with you. I'm sorry for teasing you, Padmé – please forgive me."

"Well…" the 'stupid, two-dimensional' remark still rankled a little bit.

He gave her a pleading look. "C'mon, Padmé. You can't destroy the greatest love story of all time."

She laughed; she couldn't resist him when he was being playful. "Of all time? But how does it end?"

"I don't know," he admitted, suddenly turning serious. And for a second, all of the doubts that he kept caged up inside crowded into his mind: his worries, his frustrations, and the paralyzing fear of loss. He tenderly touched Padmé's stomach, marveling again at the life growing in her, utterly amazed that such a beautiful creature could ever love him. It almost didn't seem real. Hugging her tightly, he vowed again to keep her safe; he would do anything for her - he couldn't bear to lose her.

"'The future is always in motion,' as Master Yoda would say." But right now, he didn't want to further spoil their short time together with his dark thoughts. Casting them aside for now, he allowed a suggestive grin to play across his features. "In the meantime, how would you like to add another chapter to our story?"

She pretended to think about it. "Well…I guess this is for posterity, isn't it?"

His laughter filled the room.

Vader paused. The memory washed over him so clearly, with such startlingly perfect bittersweetness, that it almost overwhelmed him.

Padmé.

He hadn't allowed her name to cross his mind in years; every happy thought of his former life with her was tinged with unbearable regret and anger at how it ended. He wasn't sure what made him think of her now, after all this time - perhaps it was the destruction of Alderaan, combined with the strange effect of the princess, that had triggered this random flash from his past.

For almost two decades, he had immediately abandoned any train of thought that could lead to such intense emotional pain, ever again. And yet…now that the memory had resurfaced, he found himself strangely enthralled by it, unwilling to let it go. He frowned; was it due to his temporarily vulnerable state in the Force? For so long, he had chosen not to remember to avoid the inevitable misery that followed. But if it were possible to separate every unhappy association from his recollections of his wife, would he do it? Would it be the same? Or would it simply feel hollow and false, like those holonovels he had teased her about so long ago?

Searching his feelings, Vader realized with a start that a part of him didn't want to give up the ache that he felt; that somehow the joy and the grief were inextricably linked. His remembrance of their short time together was filled with pain - their love had utterly destroyed him - but he knew that he would rather have that burden now than continue to live in a state of placid numbness, a soulless automaton without any knowledge of what it was like to feel, even briefly, so completely alive. Closing his eyes for a moment, he allowed the sensations to fully wash over him and savored the tender bitterness like a fine wine, the pungent fumes of regret only enhancing the inherent sweetness.

He decided at that moment not to push this remaining fragment of his past aside like the others; rather, he would willingly embrace it in order to hold onto a faint trace of her. She deserved at least one memory; she had actually deserved so much more.

And yet, to linger on the past for too long was more than he could handle right now; he felt too raw, too exposed to gaze upon its mocking brightness. Vader carefully placed this precious memory of Padmé, and of their brief, heartbreaking moment of happiness into a secret corner of his mind for safekeeping, to take out at some point in the future and examine at his leisure. Someday.

Finishing his meditation, he strode to the door. With a negligent wave of his hand, the panel slid open to reveal a very nervous ensign.

Dug stumbled back in surprise at the abrupt appearance of the Dark Lord. His eyes widened – up close, Darth Vader was even more intimidating than he could have imagined. All thoughts of currying favor, promotion, and his glorious future career flew out of his head. With a pathetic snap to attention, he tried unsuccessfully to control his fear.

"L-lord Vader…your presence is requested on the b-bridge."

There was an ominous silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic mechanical breathing. Head bowed in submission, Dug's heart thundered in his chest. Was he looking at me? Did I somehow displease him? Panic overtook him. Can he see the food stain? He felt the sudden, overwhelming need to fall at Vader's feet like a blubbering child and beg for mercy.

Then, with the barest of acknowledgments, Darth Vader strode off in the direction of the bridge. Watching his retreating cape billowing out like a black cloud, Dug sagged against the wall, allowing his eyes to close; his head was spinning, his throat tight with relief.

Almost too tight…

Dug fingered his collar uncomfortably.

Moments later, Vader heard the thud as the body of the pudgy officer collapsed on the floor behind him. For a split second, he almost felt a twinge of pity for the bumbling young man, whose pathetic life had ended before having the chance to experience the true depth of human emotion, with all of its inherent pain and ecstasy.

Almost. His lip curled at the thought of the infuriating princess; she should really thank him for his intervention. He wasn't sure why, but he felt strangely protective of her, despite her continual defiance.

Easily dismissing the incident from his mind, Vader strode towards the bridge, his footsteps echoing in the sterile corridor.

The End