Disclaimer: Don't own, but in a reality far far away, we could.
Author's note- Thanks to everyone for reading this story. We appreciate it in the way only losers without lives ever could!
Phantom'sJediBandieGirl- Well, I guess you can keep your arm. Thanks for reviewing! We love your awkward situations and we'll be sure to put in a few of our own. I have weird friends…- Yes you do. Thanks for pitying us…. Lauren says you suck. Blusgr2- Lauren says you suck worse than DeShaun. Hey, but thanks for reviewing! Gay wookies rule! And 27 is a good number. hEaRtS- We appreciate the review! Oh, and as for Vader eating, well, we kinda didn't catch that. It'll be explained, albeit in a somewhat sucky way. Thanks. Just Jill- Lol. Thanks for the review. KillinBuddy- Watch Star Wars, you freak. We're glad that you have a fascination with the gay dude. (Though, was there ever any doubt that you would?)
An Unexpected Guest
Chapter 2
I stand there for a moment, my body unable to move. He stares at me with a blank expression, his eyes slightly bloodshot. We are both speechless. So many questions race through my mind.
"What are you doing here?" I finally manage to blurt.
He is silent for a moment before saying, "Who are you and where am I?"
His speech is slurred, and then it hits me. "You're drunk!" I yell.
"No I'm not," he replies.
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not."
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not."
"Yes you are."
"Damn…."
"See," I say, "you wouldn't have argued with me, let alone lose that argument, if you weren't drunk."
He goes silent, and then promptly passes out.
"Take him to a jail cell," I hear myself say.
Obi-wan's head lolls unpleasantly to one side, drool pooling on his torn Jedi garb. I never cared for the traditional Jedi wardrobe … it always looked to me like someone had taken a throw rug and cut a hole in the middle to form some kind of shirt. Black was always my color.
I've been sitting in this cell for a while now, watching him sleep, hating him. Why did he have to show up? Life has been so good … I have loads of friends, I've finally gotten used to my mechanical arms and legs, and I actually remembered my way through the Death Star this morning (wandering around this thing is like constantly walking in a circle – so confusing). But now, now that he's here, all of these horrible memories keep flooding back. I can almost feel the tears stinging my burnt face when I last looked upon him. All I really want to do is kill him … reach forward and strangle him, or torture him slowly with Sith lightning, or cut him apart piece by piece with my light saber, his agonized screams echoing in my ears….
But I don't. I need to question him; I need to find out why he's here. Of course, Palpatine certainly would have gone along with my first impulse. He seems jealous of Obi-wan for some reason, though I can't imagine why. I convinced him that we should get some information out of him first, which is why I am here now, waiting.
He begins to stir in his sleep; the chains around his wrists clank slightly as he shifts his weight on the cold stone floor. He looks different than I remember him … older and weaker, perhaps. Or maybe it's simply the absence of that infuriated, pained expression that I've had imprinted in my mind for six years. I wonder where he's been, what he's done since the night he almost killed me. He interrupts my musings, however, by waking up and vomiting at my feet.
After a few minutes of continued retching and hurried movements on my part to get away from the chunks of soggy food spewing from his mouth, he finally wipes his face on whatever part of his bound arms that he can reach, and turns to me with an odd expression playing across his face.
"Why do you have chocolate frosting on your mask?" he asks, staring at me blearily.
I look at him for a moment, not quite sure what he's going on about. And then I remember.
"Oh damn," I say, hurriedly trying to wipe away the cake frosting that I had been inhaling through my mask earlier.
Silently cursing Palpatine for not notifying me of the chocolate all over my mask, I turn back to face my former master.
"So," I start, "what are you doing here?"
He looks at me like I'm stupid, and then he says, "I was drunk, how the hell should am I supposed to know? I'm not even a hundred percent sure where I even am!"
This is the reason Obi-wan is here, I think to myself, because he got drunk?
"Since when do you drink?" I ask. "When you were my master, I never saw you drink."
"Well, there's not much to do on Tatooine," he replies. "I suppose I could play chess with the sand people, but they really don't like to lose…," he shudders slightly.
"Why are you on Tatooine?" I ask.
"I have to watch over y – er – my son," Obi-wan says.
"I didn't know you had a son. After all the crap you gave me-."
"It was just a one night stand with some girl I met at a bar; I really didn't expect her to get pregnant."
"Oh," is all I can say. Obi-wan has a son? How odd is that? And all the time I could feel myself getting angrier and angrier at him, despising him for having something I never got the chance to have. I am brought back to reality, though, when Obi-wan starts shouting.
"Holy Sith, it's cold in here! Why don't you turn on the heat?"
"Heat is expensive," I say, becoming annoyed.
"Wait, let me get this straight. You rule pretty much the entire galaxy but you're too cheap to turn up the heat?"
"I'm not cold," I say. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty warm in this big, heavy suit that YOU PUT ME IN!"
"You put yourself in that suit," he says in a dignified, Obi-wanish way. "I don't know what you're griping about – you got everything you wanted, didn't you? Of course, you helped kill hundreds of others that trusted you along the way…."
"All I ever wanted?" I say through gritted teeth. "The only thing I ever wanted was her."
Obi-wan starts retching again, bringing up only phlegm. I watch him impassively, waiting for a response.
"Maybe it was about her at first," he pants, "but you've always had a desire for power. Qui-gon never saw it, but I did, Anakin."
"Don't call me that," I mutter, although through my mask it sounds more like a hiss.
"Don't call you what, Anakin?"
"Don't call me Anakin," I say. "Anakin Skywalker is dead."
"Really?" he says. "I was under the impression that I didn't kill you, Anakin."
I can feel my rage boiling over inside. "My name is Darth Vader," I tell him.
"But didn't your mother name you 'Anakin,' Anakin? I mean, 'Darth Vader' is simply – erm – lovely, but I could swear she at least called you 'Little Ani,'" he says with a sarcastic sort of smile that I just want to rip off of his face.
"Anakin," he starts in an annoying sing-song voice.
"Shut up, Obi-wan," I say.
"Ani, Anakin."
"Stop it!"
"Aaaanaaakiin."
"I said STOP IT!" I yell, whipping out my light saber in a blur of crimson before pausing it as his throat.
"Going to kill me?" he asks softly. "Come on, it would be a perfectly Sith-like thing to do."
I lower my saber, frustrated and lost for words. I march out of the cell without looking back, not really knowing why I didn't just kill him, not really realizing that I had just been tested.
Authors' note- Okay, so a little drama there at the end, hope we didn't scare you off. Thanks for reading, and reviews would be more than great to fill our boring lives with some excitement. Oh, and remember, WE LOVE YOU ALL LIKE A BROTHER!
