Chapter 3 – Rebellion

Author's Note: This is the last prequel chapter to the original one-shot (Chapter 1). :D

~ Amina Gila


The Force howls around them, rage, pain, and many other emotions to which Obi-Wan has no desire to name, hammering at his shields. Vader is in the epicenter, eyes wild, expression completely raw and broken. He – he didn't think that his words would have such an impact on the Sith, but it doesn't really matter anymore, because they're both going to die here. It seems poetic, fitting, that their final resting places be here.

Obi-Wan doesn't have any regrets, at least he doesn't have time for any regrets, because the Force storm which Vader has created – followed by another explosion from down below – shatters whatever supports the floor still had, destroying whatever handhold he'd managed to grab when he was hurled backwards, and the next thing he knows, he's falling. The flames are searing, licking at his flesh and clothing, but he mercifully doesn't land in them, tumbling through a hole in the flooring below, a hole which he didn't even realize existed. It's fortunate that it was there, or he would have died an agonizing death. He carefully doesn't allow himself to think about the expression on Vader's face.

At the time, he had thought it might make him feel better, to see that he's not the only one hurting from everything which had fallen apart. But seeing the pain on Vader's face only served to magnify his own, guilt choking his throat, leaving him unable to utter even a sound. Still, Obi-Wan pushes aside his emotions, leaving them locked behind his shields as he brings them up, concealing his Force signature entirely and completely blocking the bright bond in the back of his mind. If the Force has destined him to live, it would be best if no one realizes he's alive.

Faintly, he hears Vader scream his name, but it's lost amidst the roaring of the flames. Their heat is singing his skin, and Obi-Wan doesn't waste a moment, darting down the hallway as he seeks out an exit. Except the entire building is surrounded. It only makes sense because Vader would have been being cautious. He ignites his lightsaber in a smooth gesture, cutting through the thick durasteel wall, crawling out into the outside, and not a moment too soon.

The explosion that rips through the building is powerful enough to hurl him through the air. He lands hard, scraping his hands on the stones lying on the ground. He doesn't take the time to look back, crawling across the barren dirt and ducking into some shrubbery which will conceal him from sight, at least long enough for him to get away. Hard though it may be to live, to continue onwards in a galaxy which has been destroyed beyond any hopes of recognition, Obi-Wan refuses to give up, to take the easy way out. The Force has given him this gift, and he refuses to spurn it.

In the Force, he can feel a maelstrom of pain, of grief, and he closes his eyes against the intensity, bringing up his shields to block it out. He refuses to let himself be swayed so easily by Vader's pain. He's a mad, mindless monster; he has to be. There's no other explanation. Anakin was never like that. He was good. Kind. Compassionate. Caring. Force, he always cared so much for people. Obi-Wan could never understand how he could be such a good person after the horrors he endured as a child, whatever exactly they included.

Vader is everything Anakin never was or would have been. Selfish. Cruel. Filled with hate. It doesn't make sense on the surface, but a closer look reveals that Vader destroyed Anakin. He's the opposite of everything Anakin ever stood for. It hurts. It hurts so much to admit that Anakin is really gone, dead, destroyed by Vader. Obi-Wan lets himself feel the loss. He lets himself feel the pain that rips through him at the realization. Everything and everyone he's known is gone, and nothing he does will bring them back.

The loss of the Jedi, of all his family and friends is like a knife to the heart, but Anakin – he shies away from the thought, so acute is the pain. Anakin was, and always will be, his everything. He loved him as deeply and fiercely as he could anyone, and despite his struggles, he was hopelessly attached to his former Padawan. If Obi-Wan had Anakin at his side, this might actually be tolerable, but he doesn't, and it's not.

What happened? What went wrong? He genuinely has no idea, and nor does he know where he should start searching. Did he do something wrong? Or was the fault elsewhere? In the end, does it even matter? Anakin is dead, and nothing will bring him back, which means that somehow, someway, Obi-Wan has to let him go. Except… he can't. (Every time he closes his eyes, he can see the pain and devastation on Vader's face, and it shouldn't hurt him as much as it does.) Anakin became a part of him, a part of his very soul, and "letting go" is… impossible. How can he "let go" of the child he raised, of the boy he's long thought of as his own?

Obi-Wan breathes in shakily, forcing himself to focus solely on his surroundings, tuning out his thoughts and feelings as he reaches out into the Force as deeply as he dares. Vader is still alive; he could sense that much even without touching the Force. The Sith's emotions – grief, anger, and pain, among others – are battering at his shields incessantly. So, he thinks him dead. That's – that's good. It's what he'd hoped. (So, why does that fact make him feel guilty? Why is he relieved that Vader survived the inferno? Those aren't questions he cares to explore, much less admit to having.)

Obi-Wan watches the clones moving around with a numb sort of detachment, waiting in the brush as they scan the perimeter of the collapsing structure before pulling back. It's obvious that they've "confirmed" his death. Somehow, they didn't find him. He's not that far away, so the Force must be protecting him, though he can't say why. He's close enough that the breeze was blowing ash onto his body.

When Vader leaves the system, he feels it. He feels the jolt as that brilliant, dark Force presence vanishes. (Obi-Wan finds that he feels the most curious sense of loss as it disappears.) It's evening now, the last rays of light all but gone, as he rises from the brush, dusting off his robes as he hurries towards where the starship had been hidden. He'll be the only one leaving, and he recognizes that fact with no small amount of solemness. The other Jedi are dead because of Vader. A flare of anger burns through him, and he lets it go. He failed Yoda. He failed the Jedi. (He failed Anakin.) Vader will live to kill for another day. (He's relieved that he didn't manage to destroy him, that he didn't succeed in injuring or killing him.)

Obi-Wan does not look back as he boards the shuttle and leaves the planet, heading towards the rendezvous point where he's supposed to be meeting with Bail and Yoda. There's a part of him that, he thinks, may never leave. He is not Obi-Wan Kenobi anymore. He cannot afford to be, for one, and for another… he doesn't know how to be Obi-Wan if he doesn't have Anakin with him. It doesn't matter anyways. It's time to leave the past in the past, and as far as the galaxy needs to know, Obi-Wan died when Anakin did.

**w**

"Well?" Sabe asks anxiously, looking up at the medic as she smooths Padme's hair from her sweaty forehead. The effects of the poison have already become apparent; Padme's face is tinged with blue, and her breathing is labored.

"I'm sorry," the medic replies grimly, and to her credit, she actually sounds sincere. Her pain in the face of her inability to save her beloved Senator is obvious. "There's nothing more I can do unless I put her in statis, but doing so would endanger the child – children, actually."

Sabe sucks in a startled breath. "Children?" she echoes, looking down at Padme, who gives her a wan smile and squeezes her hand slightly.

"Yes," confirms the medic. "Senator Amidala is in labor with twins. If we move quickly, we might be able to save them before it's too late."

The words send a stab of pain though Sabe, mingling with the panic which has been consuming her ever since this whole ordeal began. She should have known better than trusting any medic sent to tend to Padme while on Coruscant. How could she have been so stupid? This is all her fault. Her best friend will die because of her stupidity. Sabe pushes her self-condemnation to the side in favor of focusing on Padme's face.

"Do it," the Senator whispers weakly, dark brown eyes meeting Sabe's for a moment before she looks up at the medic. "Save them."

Sabe rubs the back of Padme's hand, offering her silent support and encouragement during the birth. It won't be easy for Padme, but in a way, it might be even harder for her. She's the one who will be losing her best friend. "Hang on, Padme, just a little longer," she whispers as the medic, accompanied by a medical droid, hastily sets up the area to perform the operation. Sabe almost wishes that Anakin was here; he should be here with his wife while she dies, courtesy of the drug injected into her system. It wasn't a drug to help her so much as it was a poison to kill her. Perhaps if Sabe had paid more heed to the offhanded comment Padme made about Anakin's vision, this would never have happened.

She willingly lets Padme crush her hand as she goes through the painful procedure of giving birth. If nothing else, she can offer her little sister this one consolation, especially with Anakin so far away on an unknown mission. Was this contrived entirely by Palpatine, the now-Emperor, Sabe wonders? Did he orchestrate this to guarantee Padme's death along with those of her children? And for what purpose? What would Palpatine have to gain by murdering Anakin's family, the very people he sold his soul to protect?

In the end, Sabe can only consider herself lucky that she realized Padme had been poisoned so early, breaking her best friend out of the medcenter and fleeing to Naboo where the medics would at least offer whatever aid they could. Padme cries out from pain a few moments before the medical droid comes around to her side, a baby in its arms. "It's a boy," it informs them, handing the baby over to Sabe.

"Luke," Padme whispers, tilting her head so as to get a better look at her son. She smiles faintly, lifting a hand to stroke Luke's cheek. Sabe blinks away tears at the weakness of the gesture. She's dying, and there's nothing anyone can do to stop it. Luke whines quietly, waving his limbs around as he becomes accustomed to his new environment. Padme cries out again as her second child is born.

"It's a girl," the medical droid announces.

"Leia," breathes Padme as the droid brings the baby to her side for her to look at. Leia is whining and fussing in the droid's arms, and Sabe reaches out briefly to soothe her, stroking her face lightly. Thankfully, the contact calms her, and she quiets.

"Padme," Sabe whispers, cradling Luke in one arm and squeezing her best friend's hand, "Your children need you. You have to hang on." She doesn't care that she's pleading in vain because she can't bear to see Padme die. Not when she's so young.

Padme winces, squeezing her hand slightly, eyes darting towards her children again. "Protect them," she gasps, struggling for air. "Don't… let Palpatine… get them…"

"I won't," the handmaiden vows fervently. "I promise. I'll keep them save."

"There is… good in him…" Padme murmurs as her body goes still forever. She doesn't need to say who she's referring to. Anakin. Sabe blinks as tears flood her eyes, and she leans down pressing a kiss to her younger sister's forehead and stroking her hair one final time, as she lets herself mourn for only a moment.

Straightening, she turns towards the medic, refusing to let her tears fall. Not now. "We cannot let anyone learn that the children are alive," she declares. "We must provide evidence that the child – a boy – died during the childbirth." Sabe doesn't know what she'll do now, but she has to find a safe place to flee. Perhaps she should get in contact with Bail. He should be able to help.

She glances back at the body of her best friend, pain ripping through her. It shouldn't have ended like this. They were supposed to be happy. Padme was supposed to raise her children, not leave them to Sabe to care for alone. Well, she's not alone obviously, because the other handmaidens would be more than willing to help, especially when they learn the reason behind her death. Sabe can't bring herself to accept that she'll never be able to talk to Padme again. She'll never be able to laugh with her about inside jokes that no one else knows. Why did this have to happen? Why?! What did any of them do to deserve this?

"Of course," the medic agrees, obviously understanding. "I'll help you."

**w**

The room is quiet, a solemn air in it, as Sabe finishes explaining the situation. Obi-Wan is the first to move, glancing over at Yoda, though the vacantness in his gaze never fades. Something happened to him, Sabe knows, something beyond the Purge, though she doesn't know what. She never knew him well, but she did see him a few times, and now, he seems… broken, for lack of a better word.

"Hidden, safe, the children must be kept," Yoda decides at last, ears twitching.

"We must take them somewhere the Sith will not sense their presences," Obi-Wan agrees numbly. He sounds as if he's only half there.

Sabe narrows her eyes at the two Jedi. "I am more than willing to raise them," she tells them. "Padme specifically requested me to protect them, and I promised her that I would. I will have help, of course. The other handmaidens will support me."

"Too dangerous that would be," Yoda decides, shaking his head. "Split up, they should be."

"Why?" Sabe demands, scowling. "Why do they have to be split up? They're twins!" She swore to Padme that she would protect her children, that she would never let Palpatine lay a hand on them. She might not have been involved in undercover work, but she knows how to disappear. She knows how to go into hiding, and she knows plenty of people who can help her. It won't be easy, of course, but they'll manage.

Obi-Wan looks at Yoda again, before fixing her with a tired stare. "They are powerful," he explains succinctly. "Their presences are twice as strong when they're together. Should either Sith enter the system, they would be discovered if you keep them together."

Sabe looks down, silently acknowledging that she doesn't know nearly enough about the Force to understand, but she trusts the Jedi to tell the truth. They have no reason to lie, and she knows that Padme trusted Obi-Wan, so she will too. Still, it hurts. It's like losing Padme all over again, and she momentarily closes her eyes against the pain. "Okay," she whispers. "I'll take Leia. We'll raise her the way Padme would have wanted."

"And what of the boy?" Obi-Wan inquires, turning towards Yoda.

"Perhaps I could raise him?" suggests Bail uncertainly. "My wife and I have spoken of adopting a girl, but we would be willing to raise Luke instead."

Yoda looks between Sabe and Obi-Wan, before focusing on Bail. "No," he says. "To Tatooine we should send him. To his family, send him. Raise him they can. Raise him Obi-Wan can."

The Jedi Master jerks, breath hitching. "Me?" he echoes, voice pained. "Are you certain?"

Okay, something is definitely wrong. Why in the name of the Force does Obi-Wan look so unsettled at the prospect of raising Anakin's child? Sabe wants to ask, but from the pain on Obi-Wan's face, she's not sure if she really wants an answer.

"Certain of my decision I am," Yoda informs the other Jedi.

Obi-Wan exhales slowly, nodding, and Sabe can practically see the tumultuous emotions hiding just beneath the surface. "Very well. I will take the child. Master Yoda, do you think Anakin's twins will be able to defeat the Sith?"

"Strong the Force runs, in the Skywalker line. Hope, we can," Yoda answers. "Done, it is. Until the time is right, disappear we will."

"What about Anakin?" Sabe interjects.

Obi-Wan visibly stiffens at the name. "He's dead," he replies flatly, "And should Vader learn of the twins, he will not hesitate to take them and raise them into weapons. For everyone's sakes, no one can learn that truth." He doesn't look at her as he says it, blue-gray eyes fixed on something no one else can see.

There is… good in him… Padme's final words echo through Sabe's mind. She's conflicted, torn about her next course of action. "I don't understand," she admits. "Anakin took the name Vader, from what I heard."

"Once start down the Dark path someone does, forever will it dominate their destiny," Yoda cautions. "Lost to us Skywalker is. Consumed by Darth Vader he has been."

Dread washes through Sabe. "Are you saying he's irredeemable?" she queries.

"Anakin is dead," Obi-Wan says in lieu of reply. "Vader killed him." It sounds as if it was physically painful for him to say, as if he's finally begun to admit the truth of whatever happened to himself. Sabe's heart hurts for him, because she knows – too well – what it's like to lose someone close to her. I'll always miss you, Padme.

If it was up to her, Sabe would raise Leia with the exact truth about what happened. She would tell her how her father lost his way, how her mother's final words were of the goodness in her father's heart. But Padme's words may well have been nothing more than the hope of a dying woman. She was not a Jedi, and she loved Anakin, true, but that doesn't mean that she understood the nature of the Force.

From what the Jedi are now saying, Padme was wrong. Whatever goodness resided in Anakin's heart is gone, and only the evil and darkness of Vader remains. That – that means that he, too, is gone. Dead. Maybe the implications will sink in eventually, but right now, Sabe feels numb. Empty. She recognizes distantly that she's gone into shock, too many stressful things having happened in so short a time. She was never very close with Anakin – she hardly even knew him, all things considered – but he was still a friend, and more importantly, he was Padme's husband. He was her brother-in-law.

Sabe is no Jedi. She does not understand how the Force works, but if Obi-Wan and Yoda say that Anakin has been destroyed, then it must be so. The man who now walks the galaxy is Vader, and Sabe won't let him learn of the twins, even if she has to die to protect them. She swore to Padme that she wouldn't allow her children to come to harm, and it's an oath she takes seriously. If Vader will take the twins, turning them into weapons on Palpatine's behest, then it's definitely best if they never learn of the connection between them. It will be hard, but Sabe knows that she has to become accustomed to thinking of Anakin as dead. It's useless to entertain thoughts of his survival when the truth is so glaringly obvious.

"I understand," Sabe murmurs, looking down, a lone tear escaping down her face. "I should go now, take Leia, find a place to settle down."

"May the Force be with you," Bail calls after her. The Jedi say nothing, only nodding mutely as she rises to leave. After today, she may never see them again, and she pauses only briefly, engraining their faces in her mind. They know the truth, and the truth will never leave this room. It's far too dangerous. She understands that, and she accepts that, hard though it is. As of now, a new life will begin for her.

**w**

Naboo is a peaceful planet, even now under the Empire. Leia finds that she loves nothing more than sitting outside in the grassy fields or perched on a branch in one of the many trees concealing the small house from view. They live in the middle of nowhere, and this is the only place she's ever called "home." Obviously, they aren't always here. Sometimes, especially in the past few years, she's accompanied Aunt Sabe – or occasionally Aunt Rabe or Aunt Dorme – on secretive missions for the Rebellion.

She's happy to help, and she loves standing up to the Empire in any way she can. It's what her mother would have done, she was told, and Leia admires her mother greatly. She wants nothing more than to become someone Padme Amidala Skywalker would have been proud of. Aunt Sabe assures her that she has nothing to fear, because her mother already is proud of her. Leia believes her. When she was little, she saw vague flashes of a kind, beautiful, yet sad woman in her dreams. The woman resembled Aunt Sabe, and that was how Leia knew. Somehow, in some way, she had been given a glimpse of her mother. Those are flashes which she has long treasured because they're the only real connection she has with either of her parents.

None of her aunts speak much about her father, but she knows his name: Anakin Skywalker. He was a Jedi, a General, a hero during the Clone Wars. He's dead now, like her mother, and the ache in her chest from the knowledge that she'll never get to know them is an old one. Large white clouds lazily drift across the bright blue sky as Leia lies on her back, letting the sunlight warm her face and body. Something isn't right, though she can't pinpoint what it is. The peacefulness that Naboo itself seems to exude has been dampened somehow, and it's as if a dark cloud is hovering on the edges of her consciousness. It doesn't make any sense.

"Leia!" Aunt Sabe's voice reaches her, something akin to fear in it. It's enough to make Leia spring to her feet, racing back to the small abode in which she's grown up. All of her happiest memories were lived here, and she considers it her own personal haven.

"Coming!" she calls back, reaching the back door only a minute later, panting. "What is it, Aunt Sabe? What's wrong?"

The elder woman's face is tense, anxiety pulsing almost tangibly from her. It's a weird quirk to which Leia's long since grown accustomed. She's been able to feel other people's emotions for as long as she can remember. She's also faster and more agile than most humans; it's as if something innate within her is giving her precognitive abilities.

"It's time," says Aunt Sabe, and a chill runs down Leia's spine. "You need to go."

"What about you?" Leia protests, even as Aunt Dorme swiftly enters the room carrying a bag for Leia. All of them have always had a bag of emergency items to take with them in the event that they need to flee in haste. Aunt Rabe is following, expression grim.

"We'll cover you," Aunt Rabe replies, stepping around the other two and embracing Leia tightly, kissing her forehead. "Be careful. Go to Bail Organa on Alderaan. He will help you."

"You remember the secret route and all the information, correct?" Aunt Dorme questions as she, too, hugs Leia, stroking her hair back from her face as if she's still a little child. She's not. She's seventeen. That's not little, but she supposes the three of them will always see her as a child.

"Of course," Leia replies, a bit indignant at the implication that she could have forgotten something which has been drilled into her head from the time she was thirteen. All of them tense at the sound of engines – belonging to a group of speeders, no doubt – which are fast approaching.

"Go, Leia," urges Aunt Sabe as Leia flings her arms around the older woman for what, she knows, could be the last time. She's terrified suddenly, not wanting to leave by herself, but there's no other choice. Leia knows that. "I promised your mother that I would protect you," murmurs her aunt, "And I won't let the Emperor destroy you the way he did your parents." Sabe steps back, putting her hands on Leia's shoulders and meeting her dark brown eyes. "You have to let go."

Leia feels tears sting her eyes, the pain in her heart overshadowing anything else. She doesn't want to leave, to head out into the unknown, leaving her aunts here to their fates, but she knows that all of them will willingly lay down their lives if it means protecting her. If all of them leave together, then the Empire will pursue, and they'll be captured. So, the three women will stall as long as possible, giving Leia the chance to make her escape.

She doesn't want to abandon them, but by staying, she'll be rejecting everything they've fought for and their sacrifices, and more than anything, she doesn't want that. She doesn't want to reject everything they've forfeited to protect her. "May the Force be with you," Leia whispers, a refrain from the pre-Empire era when the Jedi still lived, when her father still lived.

"And you," her aunts chorus as she bolts through the back door, racing towards the trees. There's a small path which will lead her deeper into uncharted territory and to the secret hanger, hidden amidst the greenery where a small shuttle is located. She'll take that shuttle to Alderaan, to Bail, her mother's close friend and ally.

Leia doesn't look back until she hears blasterfire – though it's faint – followed by an explosion. She gasps, stumbling as she keenly feels the loss of her aunts, or some of them, at least. Through her tears, Leia glances back at her home in the distance, flames devouring the structure. They're dead. They're really dead. Her aunts are gone. She won't – can't – let herself think otherwise, because the chances of them surviving are low. Though there is still a chance, Leia knows that she'll never be able to let go of them if she clings to the possibility of their survival. She has to let them go if she intends to join the Rebellion and become a leader like her mother was.

All Leia can do now is keep on moving forwards, though she wants nothing more than to curl up on the forest floor and bawl her eyes out. The only people she's really known were her aunts, and now, they're dead, and she's alone. It's not fair. None of this is fair. Why did the Emperor have to kill her mother? And father? Why does she have to keep losing and losing? She won't let the Emperor win, she vows. She'll fight back until she wins. It's what her parents would have done. It what her aunts were doing. It will be a long and hard fight, one she has minimal chances of winning, but fighting back is better than doing nothing.

**w**

When Vader reaches the smoldering wreckage of what once must have been a beautiful Nubian home, he is decidedly unimpressed. He is well aware of the firefight which occurred, but his men should have been more careful. They shouldn't have opened fire so freely, thereby striking something which exploded, engulfing the entire structure in flames. He reaches out with the Force, sensing a lifeform still inside, a lifeform which is still very much alive.

He was sent to Naboo as a test, he's certain, because there's no way that any rebel cell could have been big enough to warrant his presence. No doubt Sidious is simply trying to ensure his loyalty, as if he could possibly run away. Where would he go anyways? Pushing the thought aside, Vader lifts the rubble, dragging the body from it with the Force. It's easy enough to do, something that requires almost no effort.

His breathing hitches when he sees the face of the woman in front of him, heartrate speeding up. He knows her, recognizes her, and how could he not? The image of his deceased wife has long haunted his dreams, and this woman is identical. Sabe. Her body is littered with burns, though none major enough to put her life in imminent danger. If he leaves her here, she'll easily be able to get medical attention on her own without succumbing to her injuries. But still, why is she here? What was she doing here?

This doesn't make any sense. The area itself is quite reclusive, and it's not really an ideal spot for a rebel base, not to mention that the main rebel cell on Naboo is located elsewhere. Why would she not have been with them? Why would she have chosen, instead, to remain here? There is only speculation now, the evidence having been destroyed, but a horrible suspicion forms in the back of Vader's mind. Except – no. It's impossible. His family is dead. There's no use revisiting the past and the what-ifs and could-have-beens.

Vader sends a tendril of the Force into Sabe's mind, watching impassively through the red lenses of his helmet as she awakens. She shifts, moaning as she regains consciousness. There is no fear in her Force signature as she sees him, only resignation. "Anakin," she mumbles faintly, pushing herself upright and blinking her gaze into focus.

He snarls, right hand lashing out, metal fingers closing around her throat and jerking her to her feet. His grip is tight enough to bruise, though not tight enough to restrict her ability to breath. "What are you doing here?" Vader demands harshly.

Sabe struggles in his grip before giving up, evidently realizing that she can't free herself. "We were living here," she replies, and the unexpectedness of her words makes him let go.

"Who is we?" he questions.

The handmaiden's eyes flicker back towards the ruins, grief filling them. "Rabe and Dorme were living with me," she answers, her pain evident even though her voice is level.

"They're dead," Vader realizes. It doesn't bother him in the least, for some reason. He's completely numb, indifferent, as if their deaths are meaningless. And perhaps they are because it doesn't really impact him one way or another. It's not as if they were friends. They were like sisters to – but no. That past is forever gone. It's irrelevant now.

He's about to interrogate her further, demand details about why she saw fit to leave in this remote location, when Sabe speaks up. "You should know that – that Padme –"

"Do not," hisses Vader, "Say her name."

"The Emperor killed her," Sabe finishes, unfazed. "I was with her, and they injected her with what they said was a drug to help her. She was poisoned."

Vader nearly forgets how to breathe as the implications sink in. All this time, all these years, he thought himself somehow at fault for what happened, because he wasn't with her. And perhaps it is his fault, but not in the way he had imagined. Killed. Murdered. Sidious had his Angel, his wife and their child killed. Anger surges through him, temporarily pulling him out of the numb haze in which he lives, and the Dark Side lashes outwards, crushing the nearby speeders as well as whatever remained standing of the destroyed house.

Sabe takes a step back, expression guarded, but she doesn't run, doesn't show any fear, though he can feel it now in the Force. "He will pay," growls Vader, clenching his fists. He knows that he might not survive, but he doesn't care. He has nothing more to live for anyways. He hasn't for years. For seventeen years, he's let himself be numb, indifferent to everything. He's let himself be a slave. But now, he finally has something worth fighting for, even if he's being driven by a need for vengeance.

Vader turns, looking at the stormtroopers who are still living; there's not many, because the handmaidens have always been excellent at shooting. They're living witnesses as to what transpired here, and he cannot take any chances that Sidious learn the truth. He raises his hand, wrapping the Force around their necks and breaking them without a second thought or a shred of mercy. He knows that this particular battalion had no loyalty to him. Sidious would, no doubt, have questioned them, and they would have told him everything. It was a risk he couldn't afford to take for obvious reasons.

"Take a speeder. Leave," orders Vader. "I don't care where you go." He turns sharply, cape swirling as he stalks towards his own speeder, climbing on before zooming away without looking back. Sabe can take care of herself. He cares only for defeating Sidious, for making him pay for what he did. If not for him, Vader wouldn't have lost everything.

**w**

It takes two years and the destruction of Alderaan, despite Vader's vehement protests, before he's able to put a plan into action. It's not easy, but he's always been a tactical mastermind. In the end, Vader is left standing in the ruins of the Throne Room, the debris still smoking from the fight, Sidious' body at his feet. While it might be a victory, it doesn't exactly feel like one, especially not with the death – at his hand – of the only other person who knew him, who used to be his friend.

And it doesn't bring him any closure either, but at least it allows him to take his place as the next Emperor so he can reshape the galaxy and bring true peace. Vader doesn't let himself think of the future though, not yet. First, he needs a moment to pull himself back together, to mourn and let go of yet another person, because he might have hated Sidious with a passion, but Palpatine was still his friend and mentor.

Vader is still as broken as he was before – maybe he's broken even more than he was before – and he still feels empty. He's still drifting, lost in a galaxy with nowhere to go. Vengeance is a fleeting thing, and now that the deed is done, he is as unmoored as he was before. It doesn't matter. It doesn't. He'll find something, something else which he can focus on, something else to which he can devote himself. Now, it's the only way he can continue on, because, he realizes, with a start, that he doesn't know how to be free.

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