Chapter 18
Varykino and Visions

Vader dozed in the warm sunshine, not really asleep, but not totally awake either. It was almost like being in meditation, only he hadn't consciously sought out the calm, rather empty state of mind that the mental exercise usually brought. It just sort came. And, instead of being bored to death by it, smothered by the inactivity, tense with rigid focus, he actually found himself enjoying it. Kind of like how Obi-Wan seemed to like it so much.

He could feel the Force flow around and through him. Light and pure and calm. It was difficult remembering anytime in his life where he'd felt so much at peace. Maybe when he'd been little and lived with his mother, before he could fully understand how different the life of a slave was from that of a normal person, or the times when he simply hadn't cared. It felt really nice.

The fear that haunted him constantly, lurking in the shadows of his thoughts and nightmares, seemed…distant somehow. The Count, his boogeyman, no longer seemed all that threatening or near. Agents of the Dark Side, the allies of the Sith, suddenly lacked the potency he once imagined they had. He felt safe.

And mildly guilty. He should've felt safe like this with Obi-Wan, his 'Master'. He'd chosen the man himself as a protector, a man who would drive his nightmares away, shield him from his fears, and burn back the Darkness with his Light. Why couldn't Obi-Wan bring him this kind peace?

…Perhaps he wasn't being fair. Knight Kenobi did the best he could. The Knight was always vigilant. He was a skilled fighter and a good teacher. Obi-Wan taught his charge the skills of a Jedi so that if he failed Vader would be able to defend himself. There was no reason to blame Obi-Wan for his lack of peace.

His current location probably was the biggest factor is his greatly improved state-of-mind. Naboo was a beautiful world, more wonderful than his Mom's stories of Dantilla, or any other planet he'd ever heard of. It was better than Tatooine, better than any world he'd ever lived on with the Count, and better than any world he'd yet visited in Obi-Wan's company. Coming here was like suddenly finding heaven after living millennia in purgatory.

"Are you asleep?" Padmé asked, half-curious half-annoyed.

"Nope," Vader replied, keeping his eyes closed.

Padmé let out a frustrated sigh, but said nothing further. Vader could sense her frustration very clearly, along with deep concern, worry, and a hint of fear. Slowly, he cracked open one eye and regarded the beautiful Senator.

She sat stiffly on the blanket spread over the flowery field where they had had a picnic. Her back was almost painfully straight and her hands were knotted up in a cloth napkin she'd been playing with. It was clear that she wasn't paying attention to the beautiful surroundings as her deep brown eyes were distant, unfocused. Her mind was trapped in her troubles and worries. She seemed almost physically incapable of relaxing.

The outdoor lunch had been her idea; she claimed a need for fresh air. She'd probably also wanted some privacy too, but he couldn't let her have it, or at least as much as she wanted. Even all the way out here, there was the possibility of danger to her. And even if he did leave her be the way she wished to be, he doubted it would bring her the calm she was clearly lacking.

Vader chewed his lip anxiously. He was torn about what he should do. Should he let himself get closer to her? Should he try to be her friend? Or should he keep his distance, remain her unfriendly prison guard and leave her to stew alone? If he took the risk and dropped his rude, nasty act, would he be able to keep his true identity hidden from her? Should he?

The previous day, especially after the boat ride when they'd first arrived at Varykino, had been awkward. Well, awkward for him at least. The realization that he knew her, that she was the Padmé he knew and admired as a child, had knocked him off balance for pretty much the rest of the day. It had been very uncomfortable for him to go on like nothing had changed, when in reality everything had changed. He saw her unhappiness, her worry, and ached to help her.

A lifetime ago, when he'd first seen her, he'd mistaken her for one of the mythical angels he'd heard space pilots discuss over drinks. He'd first been smitten by her beauty, her grace, and the odd aura of authority she gave off to his undeveloped Force senses. And then, when he'd spoken with her, spent tine with her, he was struck by her kindness and caring. She hadn't cared that he was a slave, a lowly beast of burden. After her initial shock over his social status, she treated him just as she would treat any free boy. And he had adored her for it.

"Stop watching me," she snapped, finally noticing that he was still staring at her out of his one open eye.

"Sorry Milady," he murmured politely, though he didn't look away.

Padmé turned and glared down at him. "Just what do you find so fascinating about me that you keep staring?" She demanded coldly.

"You are…different than I had first thought." Vader replied hesitantly.

"Oh?" She muttered warily.

"Yes, I have found that my initial impressions of you to be…inaccurate and unfair. I allowed my Master's distaste for politics and my own mistrust and biases cloud my judgment." Vader admitted. "…And I apologize."

Padmé stared at him in disbelief, and then suspicion. "I…see."

Vader closed his eye and rolled over to rest on his stomach. When her wary suspicion failed to dissipate any, he decided to speak again. "Being on-edge for so long isn't very healthy." He commented.

"What makes you think that I'm on edge?" Padmé asked tensely.

"Your behavior, your mood, your emotions, all point to you being overly stressed." Vader shrugged casually.

"My emotions?" She almost growled.

"I'm not trying to read them." He muttered defensively. "I simply can't help but sense them when I am near you."

"Well, I would appreciate it if you kept yourself out of my business." Padmé scowled.

"I shall do my best to do so, Milady." Vader shrugged again. "So relax, there's no need to feel stressed."

"My level of stress in none of your concern, Padawan." Padmé growled.

"Oh, but it is. Your welfare is my concern." He corrected gently, sitting up to regard her through half-open eyes.

She glared at him silently for a moment, before turning away to blankly study a herd of grazing Shaaks. Vader sighed quietly and thought over how badly he'd screwed this up. Padmé now despised him, did not trust him, and would most likely make herself sick with worry.

He really wished Obi-Wan was here. Padmé liked him better. And the patient Jedi would probably have more success in convincing her to calm down. Obi-Wan might never smile or show any obvious emotion beyond annoyance and disappointment, but he was kind and understanding. Or at least he did his best to be, his life as a Jedi made it all but impossible to truly understand non-Jedi.

The gentle breeze, that made the grassy field ripple like the surface of the nearby lake, began to stiffen into a true wind. Gusts pulled at the delicate petals of the flowers and some came loose, making the currents of rushing air more visible. Vader noticed that Padmé seemed fascinated by this and an idea took root.

He slipped into a meditative trance more easily than he remembered ever doing it before. Carefully he loosed more flower petals into the wind and then focused on influencing the air currents. He convinced the wind to swirl in unusual patterns and guided the petals within the patterns. It probably looked simple, but it took a lot of concentration to make it look anything other than chaotic. After a while, he lost himself in the currents of the Force and, without realizing it, began to 'far-see'…

The engines of his racer roared in his ears as the sand flats rushed by him in a blur. He tightened his grip on his steering handles and gritted his teeth in determination. All he had to do was pass Sebulba and hold onto that spot for a few seconds and he'd have first place and the race in the bag…

The vibro-blade hummed faintly in his trembling hands. He was almost soaked in sweat and he felt sick to his stomach as he kneeled on the cold stone floor, his shirt laying discarded beside him. The Force seemed to flicker out of his reach and he forced himself to focus. He needed the Force's guidance for this. If he messed up, he'd die. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he swiftly stabbed the blade into his side, just below his ribcage and began to cut…

The Light Side of the Force was a real pain in the neck to touch on. You couldn't just reach out and grab it and make it do what you wanted with raw force of will. If you tried, it would just slip away like a puff of air. Frustration clouded his focus and a vicious cycle would begin, culminating in a muffled string of Huttese curses. At a tired, disappointed glance from Obi-Wan, he grumbled and set about trying again, determined to do it this time…

Padmé sat by a crackling fireplace in the Varykino estate house. She gazed blankly into the flames, looking worried and sad. He stood nearby, watching her silently. Padmé turned to him and looked as if she was going to say something to him, but Artoo rolled into the room and shrilled for attention. An odd sense of foreboding filled the room…

Lightsabers crackled and hummed. Red against two blue. One blue blade was silenced, leaving it a contest between just two. The red swung in graceful fluid arcs, beautiful but swift and deadly. The blue struggled to keep up, to predict where the next blows would come. And then the blue faltered, the red struck, and his arm burned…

"Are you alright?" Padmé asked, yanking him out of his trance.

He found himself sweating slightly, panting and shaking. It took a moment to get a grip on reality and reply. "Yes…yes, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You're shaking." Padmé frowned, concerned and suspicious.

"Yes, I'm sure… Just…just some visions." He shrugged, struggling to regain his Jedi calm.

"What sort of visions?" She asked sharply.

"Mostly just of the past." He swallowed. "There's…nothing that I saw that would help or effect you." He added hesitantly.

"Oh," she sighed, disappointed. Padmé studied the sun's position and climbed to her feet. "It's starting to get a bit late, let's go back."

Vader nodded agreeably and helped her gather up the picnic basket and blanket. She confidently picked her way across the field towards the house, while Vader slunk in her shadow. Absently, he rubbed at a spot just below his right elbow, trying to get rid of the odd tingling feeling that lingered there.

I've got a really bad feeling…

The flower petals drifted on the freed winds for a little while longer before drifting down to the ground…forgotten.