Part VIII

Yavin IV. Darth Vader's destination. ETA: 7 standard minutes. Next to no one knew that he had even left Coruscant. As for those who had…Who could keep a Sith Lord, an emperor at that, anywhere against their will? Emperor Vader, that was his new title. Though it had been a goal for half his life, it was surprisingly unfulfilling. It was a mountain he'd climbed – once at the summit, the only way to go was down.

It was only after he'd claimed the throne that he realized that all he had fought for, all he had created, all he had destroyed – his entire life – was worth nothing at all. How self-absorbed he had been, never looking beyond his own petty life. Obi-Wan, you were right after all…I was dangerous…For there was nothing more dangerous than power in the hands of a fool. In his blindness, he had built a prison for his soul. For many years, he had glorified it, sanctified it, made it the center of his being. Only when he had exhausted it had he realized how empty it had been all along…He was left to live in infinite loneliness. Darth Vader was the name of the lie.

He was on his way to some uninhabited jungle moon – He had sensed the Dark Side there – only now did he see why they had called it that. So seductive, glittering with false promises…Yet he served it anyway. He served the darkness as payment for his short-lived glory. And in the end, all he had was his own cold hatred, faded memories of a life forsaken, an empire he did not want and a son who wanted nothing more than to bring him death. And he has reason to, he mused, grimacing under the mask.

What he would do when he got there, he did not know. All he knew was that it was worthy of investigation. Because the darkness flowed from it. Not in streams, as it often did, but surrounding everything. If he had not felt its core on Yavin's fourth moon, he would have sworn it came from within…no, not within; somehow different, even from that. It was too detached to come from inside. It was distant yet tangible.

As he strode down the ramp, he felt the stream (it was a stream now?) fluctuate, now a wave, now a mere trickle, oh so faint, so fragile it could vanish…But wait, it was changing again, in an altogether different way. No longer was it inanimate. The cold, neutral darkness was there, but further away (yet so much closer, caressing his face) was something else, separating from whatever it was, on the jungle moon.

It moved, trembled under his touch (could it snap?), as if it were a living thing. It could not be inanimate – it was not unfeeling...It was streaked with emotion, like a sentient being. Could it be..?

The thought was torn by a silent, desperate cry. Lonely as the howl of an animal in the night. Not really a sound, of course. Something you only heard if you listened real hard. If you sifted through the smoky layers of your soul, you could feel just a trace, obscured by an infinite distance. It was the sound of despair.

Father?

Just a whisper…So faint, it could have been the wind, but no wind could have made him shiver. No, it was just his mind trying to fool him, trying to bring him what he wanted. Give up, it's no use…

Are you there?

Like someone speaking underwater. A ghost of a presence brushing against him. Grey, weary, tainted…Yes, I'm there. Speak to me. Speak to me, please…

Help me…Father, I think I'm dying….

So haunted, so plaintive…What was this tightening in his chest, this fire in his eyes? Suddenly, it mattered no longer. Suddenly, he could throw it all away if it would save him…But can it? Or am I far too late?

/Can you hear me/

It fell on deaf ears. He tried to reach out, but his words were swallowed by the distance. Or was it the wall, the invisible barrier? The fine, fragile thread of a bond was ragged and fuzzy…It was like trying to reach someone with a broken comlink…He tried to speak, but the words were silenced. Forget it. Forget everything.

The shady world of Nar Shaddaa was teeming with shifty, filthy minds. He – Who are you now? – tried to shut out their dirty little thoughts. No dirtier than you. He had come out of his dingy little room to get some foul, sooty air into his lungs. Maybe a walk would make him saner. Maybe, by some twist of fate, he would die. Death won't save you. I will always be with you. I will never leave you…I'm the only one who can love you…

He dragged his feet as he walked down the filthy walkways. He moved slower now. Not for lack of physical strength. He no longer felt the need to do need anything. It took all his willpower to move. To breathe. To live. To suffer. To live is to suffer.

His mind drifted off, floating above him, until his eyes fixed themselves on the form of a small, very young woman – what, sixteen, eighteen? – with green hair and shabby clothes. What is she doing so close? Is she a— Belatedly, he realized he had bumped into her. She threw a glare at him and went on way. He stared after her.

"Lady, wait!" He did not know why he had said it. Perhaps it was because he had not been in contact with a sentient being in so long…

She turned around, with a questioning glance. He approached her. What now? Stupidly, he opened his mouth but said nothing.

"What?" Her speech was heavily accented, but not unpleasant. He said nothing.

"Look, your wasting my time, I—"

Pale grey eyes widened at the sight of the blade in his hand. Nothing could stop him from plunging it into her throat. Glistening blood spilt all over the pavement, like the blood on his hands. Her eyes were still open as she struggled to draw a breath. Wounded eyes. Why? Why did you do this to me?

A dull ache spread across his heart. But he was too cold to truly feel it. He walked on.

No more than fifty metres, and he was faced with an identical pair of pale, colourless eyes. Have you come to haunt me already?

No, it wasn't her. He let out a breath, relieved. They belonged to a little girl – a scrawny, scruffy child with black hair and a pale, heart-shaped face. No tears. She had seen too much.

"You killed my mommy." Accusing, rightly so, large round eyes staring up at him, boring through him, shattering him…

"Yes."

"I hate you."

Why did it sound so wrong, coming from one so young? Why did it feel so wrong to choke the life out of her? It was not right, he knew, but it was as if someone was hijacking his body – even his mind at times. And it was the only thing that made him feel something, the only thing that let him know he was still alive. Some excuse.

She lay there, lifeless. So innocent in sleep.

Hours passed and a golden if hazy dawn crept over polluted skies before he was exhausted enough to drag himself back to his apartment. Stripping down to his undergarments, he let himself fall onto the ripped, faded mattress. He felt nothing when it failed to completely weaken the impact.

Her eyes floated across his vision, sparkling with unshed tears…full of hate, hate that clawed at him like some wild thing, some dreadful monster…Your own kind scare you still?

The pictures flickered and melted into others, each one more jagged, drawing blood. Grey eyes, screaming betrayal…green eyes, twinkling with a love of which he was unworthy…fiery hair, flaring as her temper flared…red blood…dark as his heart…seeping over her pale skin and her tattered clothes…her small, slender form sprawled on the pavement…skin so cold, as if in death…

Stop it…please…

all your fault…

all my fault…

Murderer…

Are you so cold?

scared…

am I too lost?

He knew the answer. Yet he had clung to a hair-thin thread of hope. He had told himself that it would go away, that it had to end, that something could save him, that he could still go back. He, who had hated lies, who had sworn to never lie again – the hypocrisy – had succumbed to self-deception.

There he was again, trapped on the edge of a gantry. At one end, darkness…at the other…There he was again, faced with an impossible, agonizing decision…

He picked up the blade again. Wherever you go, goes the knife…

He brought the blade down—

—And stopped as it ripped through his skin. He dragged is across his flesh – Just a reminder, should he wake and find he is not himself…Lest I forget.

He let himself fall. Nothing left…empty…

Pray that I never wake…

Many minutes passed before he surrendered to blissful darkness.