Vader's Angel

by wertman25

In an Alternate Universe, Sidious found Anakin at the age of seven and raised him to be the ruthless Sith Lord, Darth Vader. He knows nothing of love, only hate and anger. So what happens when Padmé starts to show curiosity for the Sith Lord? (Seriously, M for later chapters) Re-uploading is taking place in earlier chapters.

34. Chapter 35: Pieces Found

Vader's Angel

By: wertman25

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Star Wars…. Or Anakin Skywalker… Which is a pity…

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The Resistance had no escape; the Imperial commanding officers in charge surprising even Vader by conducting the attack perfectly, the officers and troopers coordinating exactly as instructed, making their attack on the hidden base on Dantooine a complete surprise and in return allowing the Empire to have the absolute advantage. They outnumbered their target twenty to one; their traitorous foe unprepared and unable to send a distress signal due to the officers quick thinking, managing to jam the Resistance's communications before any signal of an attack could be made.

Multiple squadrons of troopers were already fighting on the ground and Vader listened to every word that was reported between them from inside his ship that waited just beyond the planet's reach. He hated not being the first on the scene, not being the one to lead his troops directly into battle, but he knew his mission did not concern the small, insignificant pests that his troops were battling, but the leaders they protected inside.

The leaders there held answers that would lead him the Rebellion– to the real disturbance within the universe. After this attack, he would be one step closer to restoring peace and justice to the galaxy. He breathed in the Force, calling in the darkness, trying to concentrate on his own task, but for some reason couldn't help himself from watching his troopers. Silently, he watched the monitor before him, the scene that played out along the table. Something was wrong, and he felt it. He focused only on the platform, seeing where his troops were stationed and the progress they were having– Were, as in, not anymore. He frowned when he realized a certain change on the table, taking a small step forward and catching the eyes of a few of his commanders that stood within the chamber with him, their fears spiking with his small movement.

"Squadron two and four are failing," Vader stated, his displeasure radiating through the room as the numbers of troops in those particular squadrons continued to diminish.

One of his officers stepped forward, but Vader held his gaze to the table, his eyes skimming back and forth for the cause of the issue. He saw it almost immediately, a mistake only a rookie or a fool would make, placing troopers in such an open and unsecure location under heavy fire. He would never command such a thing.

"Who authorized this?"

"Squadron two has been instructed by General Gritt to hold their ground," the officer reported as he stood at attention beside the larger Sith. "They are under heavy fire, but are blocking a key escape route."

Vader's blood came to a boil at the idiocy, and his head snapped towards the officer. "No one could hold that position," Vader growled. "Move them."

"Sir–" the officer began, trying to explain the general's orders until Vader cut him off, caring not for the opposing man's directive.

"General Gritt has no jurisdiction here," Vader snapped, turning his whole body towards the officer that dared to question him. "He also holds no consideration for clone life. I care not for his antipathy, but what he fails to see is that if we lose them, we lose our numbers, and we then have the threat of being overrun." With his patience running short, Vader turned to a clone that stood behind him, not caring to convince the officer of the obvious. "Commander, when we land," he pointed. "Take control of that squadron and move them to where they have cover." He looked at the hologram again, his mind effortless mapping out a more secure location. "Across the ridge would be preferable," he planned aloud. "They will have an efficient amount of cover, and will still be able to hold off that escape route."

Unlike the officer, the trooper saluted in respect, accepting his commander's orders without delay. "Yes, sir."

Vader nodded pleased for a moment before turning back to the officer. "And what a squadron four?" he pressed as he skimmed the sight before him again. "I see no cause for their issues."

The man hesitated, a small amount of sweat running down his forehead and his breath visibly catching in his throat. "It's– Umm…" he delayed, before he hardly steadied himself. "It's the human squadron, sir."

At the man's response, Vader slowly crossed his arms tightly over his chest, holding in any and all emotion that whirled within himself. That explained it: A human squadron. There were few of them, but more were growing. Imperial Academies and training camps supposedly raising the next line of soldiers, and plans of creating a system to steal young humans from their homes to be trained from birth; things that were all ideas of the Emperor. Vader knew his master planned to rid the Empire's forces of clones entirely in the future, but he disagreed. He thought that mere humans could never do the work of his fine soldiers. His men were bred for this, and the continuously failing humans were evidence of just that. If Vader had his way, just as he hoped he soon would, the clones would be the "Grand Army of the Galactic Empire" for good.

"I don't recall ordering them," Vader stated slowly, and he cared not that everyone could hear the resentment in his voice.

"No, sir." the officer shook his head. "It was the Emperor's doing, my Lord."

Vader bit back a growl. Again, the old man was sticking his nose into places it didn't belong. The Emperor belonged in the Senate, and this was Vader's arena, something that he would run as he saw fit. He was trained for this after all, and he was already the Emperor's direct command. So, what was the point?

He closed his eyes, trying to control his anger, but allowed it to bring him strength. "Get me to the ground," Vader commanded lowly, allowing his hatred to also give him focus and to concentrate on the real task at hand. Not only did he have a mission to complete, but also he needed a relief… and he knew exactly where to find it.

They landed within minutes and as the ramp lowered Vader exited the ship, walking towards the main battle while another series of reinforcement troops ran off in different directions behind him. Vader marched his way through the previous battleground, through the mix of fallen troopers and traitors until he reached the active sight. His troops stood at a long line, hidden behind a succession of different objects, firing out into a large no man's land that separated them and the traitors.

"Commander," he spoke, coming to stand behind the leader of the squadron who was attempting to take cover behind some sort of fallen debris to shield himself from the oncoming blasts. Unlike the troops, Vader was unaffected– or perhaps didn't care that the clones were hiding for their lives, the Sith being the only one standing tall and at a complete stand still, as if the cross fire was not happening.

"Sir," the commander reported back, attempting to stand for his commander before dodging a shot that went by his right causing him to move back behind his barricade.

Vader still stood unaffected, allowing the shot to bypass him. "Report."

The clone moved forward and back again, slightly bewildered, and unable to dodge shots like his commander. "They're… They're communications are jammed, sir." the trooper reported quickly, completely out of breath beneath his helmet, while his head continued to look back at the enemy as he talked. "We took out… We took out a large part of their main weapon's system, but a large portion of the scum have taken refugee in the west wing and this here bunker. We did have it under control– until the human bastards of troops joined the fight."

Vader could sense the trooper's irritation, and slowly came to rest his hands on his belt. "I see only one color," Vader pressed simply. "One army." He knew that the trooper would get the point. They were all the army– one Empire, and although Vader felt the same way, he was always forced to keep peace between his ranks. It built a more solid and stronger army, especially in the mists of a battle.

"My apologies, sir." the clone nodded quickly before gesturing back to the place where the blasts continued to shoot from. "Squadron four," he corrected. "Made a slight miscalculation, causing half of us to cover for them. Unfortunately that allowed the resisters to gather their numbers, and now there are too many of the traitorous scum in the fight for us to cross safely to keep our numbers, sir."

"Leave that to me," Vader commented, igniting his lightsaber and walking through the sea of white, becoming the main target. As he passed, some troopers stood to follow him, but were quickly hit down by the crossfire. Vader, however, deflected the fire effortlessly, making the fight look like nothing but mere child's play.

With the Force as his ally, Vader found himself across the disputed ground within moments without a single scratch. It seemed as if he was untouchable, because no shot had touched him and no harm had reached him in any way. He felt unstoppable, and he was. He sensed a trap within the bunker, but Vader hardly cared, not waiting for his troops as he entered into the building. Screams of terror and gasps of fear filled the air as Vader single handedly pushed the Resistance back. Vader used the Force to throw one man across the room while he took another one out with his blade before deflecting any further fire that would harm him.

The troopers began to form in behind him, and the room filled with chaos. He reached out into the Force, searching for the leaders that were hidden somewhere within the bunker. No longer being a steady attacker, Vader allowed the opposing troops to fight against one another as he headed towards the Force signatures he desired. He passed between the disarray, only deflecting as he walked and taking out enemies that were needed, stabbing and slashing when absolutely necessary.

Following the signatures through the Force, he found himself away from the main action, and heading towards a doorway that seemed to be empty, but of course wasn't. The mediocre plan only fooling normal eyes, but not Vader's. He could feel through the Force the number of people that stood within, and the large room at the end that held what he wanted. As he entered the hall, all fire turned onto him. His red blade glowed within the passage, quickly deflecting the blasts until the Sith grew tired and instead of wasting time, simply pulled the weapons away from the attackers with one swift motion before throwing them backwards effortlessly, their necks breaking upon impact with the wall. He watched as the door to his destination closed, but showed no reaction, simply plunging his lightsaber into the door and making it open once more, taking out another soul that stood braced against the entry.

The rest of his attackers jumped back in surprise as the door opened, some screaming while others tried to manage up the courage to fight. It didn't matter though, the Sith not giving anyone the time. Vader slashed his way around the room, taking out unneeded souls until there were no ones left that were willing to fight. He continued even then however, after there were no fighters left, taking out droids and systems alike, making sure there was nothing unneeded left. Only when he was satisfied did he lower his weapon, deactivating the blade as he turned towards the small sea of eyes that stood staring at him– the eyes of the leaders.

It seemed like the fight was over, but he sensed the blaster before he saw it. One leader taking it upon herself to end his life, thinking he was now defenseless without his weapon. The stupidity. She raised the concealed blaster from her belt and pulled the trigger, but Vader lifted his mechanical hand, allowing the blast to be blocked before using the Force to pull the weapon into his grasp. He didn't even look towards the woman to witness her reaction, wasting no time in using the Force to snap her neck with the opposite hand. Her body fell to the floor with a loud clang, and he threw the blaster back in her dead body's direction soon after.

He spared her no glance as he stepped towards the rest of his living prey, quite unaltered by the matter. "You have something I desire," he stated unaffected, pausing before the half of dozen men and women that stood against the farthest point of the wall, trying and failing to hide their fear of him.

Most of the group stood in silence, quite literally cowering in fear, their eyes wide and filled with tears, while their hearts beat rapidly against their chest. The sounds of the living and the smell of the dead throughout the room was threatening to make the group insensible while it only fed Vader's need. He could feel their fear, he could see what he had done, and it edged him to go on, his senses tingling on an all time high.

A lone man took a step forward, possibly the designated leader, but Vader couldn't distinguish him from the rest. His prey becoming one as the darkness grew stronger and stronger. "We will tell you what you want," the man spoke, trying to keep his false confidence within his voice. "But we ha–have terms that we would like to be met before we release any information."

Vader nearly laughed, but was torn between hysteria and rage. They were trying to bargain? With him? It amused and angered him. "You miss understand," he spoke again. "This is not a bargain."

"It has to be," the man pressed, and Vader was sure the stupid fool believed his own lie. "You need us because you won't find the Rebellion without us."

Vader locked his shoulders, returning to his full height, challenging the man that was daring to do the same to him. "You overestimate your worth."

The man stupidly shook his head, declining the threat as nonsense. "You need us," he repeated. "And without a bargain we will not talk."

Vader had expected that and showed no rage at the man's answer, something inside of him becoming beyond over joyed to be allowed the opportunity to kill. "So be it," he ignited his lightsaber again, quickly picking out the weakest link within the group. "I sense you all hold the same information, one of you will do."

The group again had no time to react, Vader wasting no time, slashing his lightsaber through the bodies of the leaders and leaving only one a living, quivering pile of waste upon the body-filled floor. He sensed the man would be easy to make squeal and as he deactivated his lightsaber, a pair of troopers contained the man, just reaching the scene in time to know their commander's future commands.

"Ready him for interrogation," Vader commanded, planning to allow the man to have further time to break in his absence. "I'll deal with him later."

"Yes, Lord Vader."

Bypassing the troopers, the Dark Lord exited the room, ignoring the screams from behind him and focusing on the silence ahead– the lack of firing or yelling. It was a sound that should have made him pleased because it meant his army's success, but rather made his teeth grind because he still wanted to fight. His darkness was exhilarating, his strength had made him invincible, and his anger was fueling him on. He could feel his power surging from his every cell, and his heart was beating within his ears. He needed more. He needed more death. More fear. More destruction. More chaos. More action. More everything.

He exited the hall to the main bay, to the sight of three or four, dozen men and women kneeling on the floor, their hands over their heads and most of them with tears running down their face. His troopers circled the group, every other holding a blaster towards an outer Resistance member's head in a show of dominance. Vader's dark form caught the eyes of many members and some watched him as he approached while others looked to the ground, their fates already known.

"Lord Vader," a trooper saluted as Vader paused at the front of the group, motioning at the men and women that kneeled within the room before him. "The survivors."

Vader looked to the crowd, not caring to meet the eyes of any of the scum that dared to look in his direction. Survivors. The demon inside of him roared. They didn't deserve to survive. They had been the reason for the disruption of peace with the galaxy. They had killed too many of his troops to be shown mercy. As a commander, he wanted everything for his men's lives, but also the warrior inside of Vader was halfheartedly impressed, because they had fought well and hard. The remaining survivors had fought bravely and had managed to harm a fair amount of his troops while still protecting their own lives. A fact he had to admit was impressive… And perhaps on a good day, he would have spared them… but today he couldn't risk it. Not with so much at state– not with traitors such as this. No. Darth Vader wasn't feeling merciful today, and they did not deserve mercy.

He glazed over the crowd once more, before turning back at the commander. "What survivors?" he said simply, and a loud cry echoed from the nearest woman, followed by the smallest nod of his trooper.

Vader turned without another glance, exiting the bunker just as he heard the troopers ready their weapons. He could feel the lack of life falling behind him as he approached a group of officers on the outside, the Sith feeling no remorse and only further strength by the feeling of death and destruction around him.

"Lord Vader," both men saluted as he approached, coming to a standstill with their expectations high.

The Sith paused, feeling irritated, and again, unmerciful.

"General Gritt," Vader responded slowly, death on his tongue, a sudden urge awakened within his newly profound annoyance. "Care to explain your actions for today?"

The man paled at Vader's tone, his hand reaching up to pull on his collar as his eyes dropped to the ground. "Ah– My Lord," he chocked on his own breath. "I believed today was a success. I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

Vader frowned beneath the hood, his mood further worsening. He had decided if the man could come up with a reasonable explanation he would allow him to live, but that response was anything of the sort. He didn't need men like that within his ranks.

Raising his hand and closing his grip, Vader watched as the man's hands rose to his neck, chocking and looking towards the Sith with wide eyes. "You have failed me for the last time," Vader hissed slowly, his attention turning to the man beside the chocking officer as Gritt fell to the ground. "Captain Lucx."

The second man moved to attention. "Yes, Lord Vader?" he answered, taking a step forward as he tried to ignore the chocking officer, who was obviously a close comrade.

"I want every area scanned, every shipped checked, and every droid left given a diagnostic check." Vader continued, as Gritt's neck finally broke under pressure, his body finally sinking lifelessly to the ground. "You are now in charge, General Lucx."

"Thank– Thank you, Lord Vader."

After that, the days passed by quickly and by the end of the fifth day Vader knew he was close to breaking the Resistance fool, a man who had turned out to be a senator from a weak and powerless planet in the Outer Rim Sieges. Just as the Sith had sensed, the middle-aged senator had been the weakest minded of them all… This issue was, the man was perhaps too weak. Vader knew he could take the information directly from the man's mind if he tried, but due to the man's state, he didn't want anything to happen to the information if it was not to come from the man's lips. It was too much of a risk– too much of a chance when they had such an advantage. He had tried various techniques in the place of usual, the newest probe droid being the must successful. Soon. Soon he would have the location of the Rebellion, and everything would be as it should be. Nothing would stand in his way. Almost nothing.

"Lord Vader," a captain called as the Sith Lord entered into the hall, Vader making his way in the direction of the prisoner after his meditation.

Vader's pace did not slowly as the man hurried beside him, his mind too preoccupied to give the captain his full attention. "What is it, Captain?"

"We've received news from Coruscant–"

"Tell the Emperor the progress we have made," Vader responded without allowing the man to finish. He knew it was only a matter of time until Sidious reached out to him. Especially since he had blocked out and cut off everything over the course of the last few days, making sure only to focus on the here and now: his mission. "I will not be distracted while we are so close," Vader continued. "The longer we wait, the more time the Rebellion will have to move. We need their location now."

"Yes, Lord Vader," the man agreed with a nod of his head, before hesitating. "But– but its was not the Emperor that had made contact. I was directed to inform you that Senator Amidala has been taken to Coruscant Medical."

The galaxy actually stopped moving, a heavy, invasive weight falling into Vader's stomach as the words hit his ears. "Senator Amidala?" he repeated as a large frown overtook his features, immediately pausing and giving the captain his full and undivided attention. "Coruscant Medical?" he asked, a little too hurriedly. "Why? What happened? Is she injured?"

"Ah–" the man shuffled indecisively, both nervous from the Sith's sudden closeness and disturbed by his commander's sudden and uncharacteristic interest. "No further information has been given," he reported, trying to stay steady. "Besides the basics, my Lord. But she seems to be in fine health, and not in any distress."

"That explains nothing, Captain." Vader growled in response, a newly formed emotion upon his lips. "What was the basic information?"

"Of course, my Lord." the captain nodded nervously, before pulling up the datasheet that he held. "By report," he read. "She has no injuries and there were no threats on her life. It seems by her own request she was taken there. She is in healthy and stable condition."

Vader wanted nothing else but to reach out and snatch the datasheet from his officer; needing to the read the report for himself… but he knew better. Instead, he tried to control himself, grinding his teeth. "Anything else?"

The man looked between his commander and sheet again, skimming it quickly. "Nothing of great importance," he began slowly; making sure to not miss any needed detail. "She did have one visitor though, my Lord. A Palo Campton."

Anger flared within Vader's stomach and the heat from his body physically made the man beside him take a step back. Campton? Campton had gone to see her? It took everything in Vader's power to not destroy everything in the room from his sudden storm of rage. Campton!

"My Lord?" the captain asked from his newly moved spot, looking for some sort of reason for the Sith's silent, but tangible reaction.

"Why was Mr. Campton permitted to see her?" Vader asked slowly, holding his tongue from conveying anything beside his question. "I believe she would have been taken to a private part of the medical center without visitors."

"She– She was," the captain stumbled, again looking through the sheet before looking at his commander. "They permitted him because he is her boyfriend, Lord Vader." And again the officer quickly took a large step back as Vader's head snapped deathly fast in his direction.

"What?"

"It–It was in the report, my Lord." he stated again, his nerves now evident on his face. "He was permitted because he listed himself as her boyfriend."

Vader's stomach twisted again and before he could stop himself, imagines of Campton on top of the senator invaded his mind. The very same images that Campton had imagined in their meeting some weeks back. He could practically feel the man's need for the woman from where he stood systems away, and the beast inside of him screamed– No. The man.

"Very good," Vader pressed, unable to force out any other words. "Ready my shuttle."

The captain's eyes widened in response to Vader's sudden command, the officer tilting his head in confusion and shock. "Your shuttle?"

"I am returning to Coruscant," Vader continued, turning and walking in the direction in which he had come. "Immediately."

"But sir," the captain chased after him, his voice and expression crazed. "But–but what of the location –"

"The what?" Vader snapped, turning his head slightly back as he walked. Truly, he had no idea what the man was trying to talk about or why he was even chasing him, Vader's mind only filling with one thing: Senator Amidala.

"The location of the Rebellion," the captain yelled, suddenly out of breath and simply bewildered. "We–we don't have it yet, my Lord."

Vader growled, stopping suddenly and ignoring the captain that crashed into his back due to his unanticipated halt. The Sith inside of him bellowed… Irritated. Deranged. Sickened. He had forgotten his mission because had let her in… that irritating, infatuating woman. For days he hadn't thought of her, not since he had left, and now he was right back to where he had started. He had thought of her for one second and all had come tumbling down. Everything that he had worked towards was forgotten. How could he have forgotten?

He wanted nothing more than to go back to the seconds before the report, but knew he couldn't. It was too late. He closed his eyes and tried to call the darkness back into his soul but felt it only surrounding him. It could not enter, because he had allowed her back inside. He hated the fact, but could not change it. He didn't know why, but he had to go back, even if he didn't want to. He had to. Something inside of him practically pulling him towards Coruscant, and he had to fight with all his might to finish what he had started here.

"I will have it momentarily," he eventually spoke, turning once more and heading towards the prisoner's cell. "Keep my shuttle on stand by."

Vader flew through the skies of Coruscant, his mind in a panic as he moved farther and farther away from his establishments, and closer and closer towards the entrance of the Senate. To think he had actually worried–No. He didn't worry. He was never worried, because he didn't truly care. He had been concern for a great deal of many reasons. What if she was to escape? What if she made contact with the Rebellion? What if she was to be assassinated in his absence? There were countless things that could happen if she was out of his establishments unsupervised as she was. His concern was his fuel, but not for her, but for unseen consequences.

But now because of his concern for those consequences he had rushed, acted too quickly, too hastily without any concern for other consequences. Consequences like explaining his actions to his master. Vader knew he had to make a report back to his probably already less than pleased master immediately. He knew he could make the old man understand to an extent, but he also knew he had made a mistake, that he had rushed and there would been no excuse for that. He had wanted– needed to get back to her… because of consequences, and that had lead to him being inpatient. He had killed his only lead to the Rebellion, after getting their location of course, but he could only imagine the consequences if it would happen the lead would fall through.

Feeling a sudden rush of hatred, Vader let out a roar, hitting his flesh hand painfully against the controls of the cockpit. What had he been thinking? He had rushed back… and for what? For her to press his limits? For her to be overly emotional? For her to literally kick him out of his own bed? He had the location of the Rebellion for Force's sake! He had them within his grasp, and what did he do? Run back in the other direction! He inwardly groaned, because now he could see clearly– see his own foolishness, but he still didn't understand it.

Why had he come back? What had been his true cause? What had made him so blind that it could send him into such frustration that he would fly half way across the galaxy and away from his only mission in life? It couldn't have been because of her. It couldn't have been! It had to be something else! He couldn't deny she had sparked something within inside of him, but it wasn't anything that wasn't already untouched. It didn't go farther than physical need. He didn't care for her personally, but perhaps the idea–the statement of it all. Perhaps it was the sex that he had craved, the addictive action that it was. Perhaps he didn't like another man near his mate, in the simplest of terms. All of those options were possible, but it couldn't be any farther than that. Not for either of them… but he somehow knew the smallness of the lie.

Sith! Vader inwardly cursed at himself. Kriffing Sith's Hell!

They should have never had started this, but there was no going back now. He couldn't care. He did not care. As a Sith Lord, it was not in his nature to ever care. He couldn't afford the weak emotion. She couldn't either. It would destroy them both. But she didn't care for him in any way but the obvious, correct? And if he ever sensed even a slight change, he made sure to correct it. It never meant anything though, because they hated each other. They were two completely different people on too completely opposite sides. Her obvious emotion was simple, one he allowed and had felt before. He allowed her to at the very least to feel the small connection– the strange spark they had together. He was fine with that since they were lovers after all. He respected her enough to allow her that. He respected her in vast amounts of ways… but apparently none that she could see…

"I meant what I said!" the senator screamed, not allowing him to finish as she motioned to the door. "Go fuck someone that you allow to see you! That you feel is worthy of you! That you actually allow in!" She paused, brushing her hands through her hair, laughing painfully as she did. "You know," she laughed. "You might not have raped me, Vader, but even you have to comprehend how unfair this relatin– whatever this is, is! I mean, always blindfolded and naked for you? You don't see a problem with that? Well, that's over. It's all over."

He supposed he brought some of that upon himself, always pressing and teasing her, lying to add to his own false ego. Her thinking he had multiple lovers before her was a fact that he didn't understand how she could believe, but was also a fact that would never change. It was a false statement that had given him an advantage, almost an edge, and it was needed in this particular situation. What wasn't needed was whatever he had allowed to happen before the fight had even occurred. Vader honestly didn't even want to think about what had transpired, but knew if he would have stuck to his original plan, he could have saved himself the hardship. He really hadn't planned to stay, but his pointless waging emotions had gotten the better of him. Especially after learning of her encounter with Campton. The kriffing senator just had to be in his room when he had returned home, falling off the bed before requesting his presence. He didn't know why nor what had him even tried. He had just been pleased– too pleased, and he had taken advantage of the situation for his liking.

But her words bothered him. Not just her words, but her thoughts and feelings surrounding them. He had hurt her before, physically and emotionally, but this was different. This was beyond personal, and it shook him more than he knew than it should. Though he didn't understand the very root of them, or full meaning of her remarks, he felt enough through the Force to know what line she was pressing. He wasn't trying to demeanor her in any way, especially not within the bedroom– not in those terms. He had thought she had come to know him enough to know that a battle of the sexes was not justifiable by his terms. They were equal, at least in the bedroom, and he saw her as his lover, not just as one of his random playthings.

He didn't mean to upset her by the way he had handled their sex life, but she truly didn't understand, or at least didn't anymore. She seemed to have forgotten that she was fucking a Sith Lord and their relationship was forbidden in every sense of the word. She had her issues now, but didn't seem to have any issues when he was plunging himself inside of her while her body erupted with pleasure.

He didn't see point to her comments. He did his job quite well regardless if she saw him or not, and he preferred not to be seen anyways. He always preferred that, regardless if he was in or out of the bedroom. It was important to hide from the galaxy, to keep his face a secret, to keep his image questionable, and more importantly, to keep it from her so she wouldn't get attached. His face was not his own, it belonged to a boy long forgotten, and was not the face of the Sith Lord he was now. He didn't expect her to understand that, but also didn't expect her to have such an outburst about it either. Even her further points he didn't understand. How was their relationship in the bedroom unfair by any means? Had he not allowed her to take control far more than once? Had he not pleased her, sometimes without taking anything for himself? Sure his clothes remained on, but again, he preferred it that way. He didn't judge her for being naked; he preferred that too, and he worshipped her body. She was gorgeous. An angel. There was nothing to be ashamed of.

After all, she couldn't expect them to be normal? He couldn't let her in any farther than she already was. All of his years of training screamed against it, and he had already broken too many of the rules for his own sanity. How could she not understand that she was in farther than anyone else? She was, dare he say, the closest person that had ever entered into his life. But that wasn't enough. She wanted more from him. That was simple… but he didn't know what else he could give. He didn't know, in fact, if he had anything else to give.

Force. Why was this so hard? Why was it mapping out battlefields and leading millions of soldiers came easily to him and this was so complicated? He couldn't understand it, any of it. He didn't understand the situation or how to get out of it. He didn't understand things she said or the meaning behind it. He didn't understand things she would do or the reasoning of it. Then when his confusion showed, or when he tried his best to respond reasonably, she continuously got angry with him, which resulted in only deepening his confusion and usually anger.

Since having her thrown into his life, he found himself becoming more and more confused, desperately and constantly wishing to be in a real battle situation. A combat zone that was his arena and where everything seemed to make sense, where the situation would be something that he understood and could plan a solution to get out of. A place where he understood the words being spoken and could understand the meaning behind them. A place where everyone's actions he could make sense of, and even if foolish, he could find a reasoning behind them. On a battlefield, or even just fighting, he never felt confused. Never felt like this.

This was far out of his element– too far. This only further justified the differences of the worlds himself and the senator had come from. She constantly thought he was the crazy one when he saw nothing of the sort. Didn't she get that her perspective was the complicated one? He, for once, was the one being simple. He kept everything short and uncomplicated. She was the one creating issues that weren't even there. Always thinking too deeply and acting the ways society had programed her. She didn't see it, but he could. He saw the corrupt leaders and galaxy for what they were, and that was exactly why he stayed away from all of it. He had to admit that his years of lack of socialization had made him feeble in those areas, but did it really matter?

It never had before. He was strong where he had to be– strong where it counted, knowing that those types of skills such as socialization or talking would have gotten him nowhere, and likewise, fell under the category of unneeded or unessential. Knowledge in survival, in combat, in command, in the ways of the Sith, and in the ways of the Dark Side of the Force were all that he needed. He could only imagine growing up trying to talk his way out of a situation with Maul, or trying to socialize beyond training with Dooku. If he had, he would have been dead within a week.

But regardless of even that and thinking of the now, why did he need to speak when he was a man of action? The Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Vader, didn't need to know how to speak, only act, and certainly wasn't going to learn to social properly now. That wasn't an issue to him. The issue was, however, that she was different than him. Senator Amidala had grown up within that social society– a high-class social society, with people and with a family. She was a woman– a politician of spoken negotiation, of talking to others, and of always being with others of her kind. She wanted to speak and share, when he did not have the words or the time. He supposed that his attitude towards the situation was due to his training, and not to mention his upbringing. He had lived in secret, in the darkness of the galaxy for a very long time. He had been kept away from civilization for, well… forever. He had been isolated, only shown the pain of constant training, or torture and suffering; his memory of anything before that very tattered. Even he had to admit, he didn't know the first thing about "socializing," Senator Amidala being his first socialization he had had long term in… again, forever.

Still, he thought he had improved, going from basically being mute to at least conversing. That was progress, and she had to see that he was trying. He tried to take a step into her world in the safety of his establishments, at the very least to make sure she didn't feel the way she obviously did. But that seemed not to be enough, and he didn't know what would be. He didn't know what else would make her understand…

Landing the craft, Vader's mind took another turn, focusing only on his master and trying to stop the coldness in his chest. Now he had to admit he was anxious, and he knew he had to stop. He could feel his master's displeasure from the landing bay, the old man beckoning him through their bond. Vader growled again, as he locked away his thoughts and feelings, blocking everything from his master besides his own anger– anger at himself. Again, he didn't know what had made him act so crazily– act without thinking– act so unlike himself. He had been foolish, and he was sure he would be disciplined as ramification.

But it wasn't all in bad faith, because they still had time. The Rebellion wouldn't figure out about the fate of the Resistance. They had no leads. Hey had no clues. They didn't know the Resistance's location, and even if they figured out about the attack on Senator Amidala, they would have any indication if the Emperor was to have him follow on their trail or not. Vader knew he couldn't wait forever, but surely a few days would mean nothing. He could make some excuse for his actions, they could be explainable and his reasoning understandable. Or so he hoped.

Walking within a haze, Vader soon found himself within the Emperor's main throne room, the old man turned away from him, gazing at documents on the far desk. Vader felt the old man pricking at his mind the moment he stepped into the room, but made sure to block his master out at all costs when it came to certain information; not allowing his master to retrieve any information from within inside his mind except that that would make him pleased. As the Emperor continued to dig, Vader kneeled respectively, taking his place as the apprentice, knowing better than to upset the Emperor any further, even though his master's gaze remained away from him,

"Lord Vader…" Sidious eventually spoke, after forcing Vader to remain silent and kneeled before him for sometime before he acknowledged his presence within the room. "You're back early," he continued, even more displeased. "I trust your mission was a success."

"Yes, my Master." Vader responded, keeping his head down and his answer short, deciding on giving a report rather than an excuse. "I have successfully–"

"You know I hate being uniformed," the Emperor interrupted, finally turning his chair to stare at the young Sith, an infuriated frown on his pale face beneath the dark hood. "It displeases me."

"Yes, my Master." Vader nodded once more, again not giving an excuse or apology. "Though I feel you will be pleased to learn that–"

"You don't seem to understand," Sidious roared, not allowing his apprentice to finish as he rose from his spot behind his desk with pure rage within his eyes. "I'm displeased Vader! I hate when my plans do not go as I have foreseen!"

"I have the location of the Rebellion," Vader reported quickly, needing to reveal the information that his master would not allow him to speak, all while praying it would make the old man pleased. "Things will continue as planned."

No pleasure passed over the Emperor's face, his emotions only seeming to worsen upon Vader's news. "You have nothing," Sidious growled, slowly coming around the table to stare upon his apprentice. "These are not the plans I speak of, Vader. And as of the traitors that have dared to go against us, I have already been notified that the Rebellion is on the move."

The clearness of his mind fogged upon hearing Sidious's words, Vader's head snapping in his master's direction, a frown forming over his features as the monster inside of him screamed. "Impossible!" he shouted back, rising to his feet in a fit of rage. "That's impossible!"

His master said nothing in response, only continuing to look upon his apprentice with cold eyes and a pure angered face, something passing between them before Vader realized his mistake. "Are you challenging me, Lord Vader?" Sidious asked slowly, death on his tongue. "After everything I did for you?"

As quickly as Vader rose, he fell, dropping back down onto his knees and bowing his head obediently to his master. "I would never," he lied smoothly, almost meaning the words as the smallest amount of fear rose within his chest. "You are the Master, and I am your loyal apprentice."

"And yet," Sidious snapped, his teeth audibly cracking. "You are here," he paused, a sad and hurt-filled look being played onto his features as he shook his head. "You are here when you say you have the location to the thing I want most."

"The Rebellion is on Skye," Vader answered obediently, not playing his master's games or falling for the old man's tricks. "The troops needed to be–"

"I care not for the troops, Lord Vader!" Sidious howled in response, dropping his act as his face refilled with anger. "I care for one thing, and because of your actions they are gone! They are moving as we speak," he paused, his eyes flaming as he stepped closer to his apprentice. "Because of you!"

Vader didn't meet his master's gaze, but he shook his head, knowing that it couldn't be true. "It's not possib–"

"You force my hand, Vader." Sidious hissed, slowly but confidently walking towards his lowered apprentice. "You've ruined my plans, you've lost the Rebellion, and now you dare challenge me?"

"No, Master." Vader pressed again, finally meeting the Emperor's gaze while he shook his head. "I would nev–"

"Silence!" Sidious roared, Sith lightening shooting from his fingertips and sending Vader flying backwards, his head hitting the wall with a large snap before the bolts sent his body tumbling to the ground. "I hate to do this," the old man continued, sending another series of shocks through Vader's body and causing him to cry out in pain. "But you leave me no choice." Vader moaned in agony, meeting his master's gaze compliantly, and knowing what was to come next. He didn't dare fight back and because of it, a large smile graced his master's features, watching as the young Sith submit to his will and torture. "You must be punished."

Vader silently agreed, knowing those words too well. Failure is unacceptable.

The torture, as usual, was almost unbearable. Although Vader thanked his lucky stars that his master was in a physical torturing mood and not a mental one. Still, his body went through the same three stages. Pain. Agony. Numbness. It may have been minutes, hours, or days, but he wasn't sure. Time had come to a stand still, almost ceasing to exsist, seeming both too short and too long to count. Vader found himself literally throbbing as his master continued to break his body, every scar, every scratch, and every wound that had been inflicted upon him seeming to resurface and burn beneath his tunic. It was almost unbearable and would have been if he weren't trained for such dealings– if they weren't something that was such a constant within his life, but the pain continued regardless, because he was strong enough to take it. It continued until his master ran out of time, or perhaps just grew bored, leaving Vader a burning, panting mess of sweat and suffering.

"Now get out," Sidious hissed, turning back to his desk as if nothing had ever occurred. "I will deal with this mess and call upon you when the time is right."

Vader knew better than to try to catch his breath near his master, somehow conjuring up the strength to push himself off the floor and fleeing into the darkness without another word. He moved through the secret passages of the Senate halls as fast as his legs would carry him until the pain became too much and he clasped upon the floor.

Feeling as if his ribs had been crushed, Vader began to gasp for air, frantically pulling and scratching at his clothes to feel his body beneath. It felt as if every wound that had ever been imposed upon his body had been ripped open and every injury had reoccurred, which was a great many deal of inflictions, the extreme feelings overwhelming his senses in maddening ways. He pressed his hands quite inelegantly under his clothes, but he found no broken bones or blood, his entire body shaking and making the act feel like the hardest task in the world.

He closed his eyes reaching out to the Force to give him strength, and to heal the pain that had been inflicted upon him. He took a deep breath as the energy answered, giving him some relief that he craved, but still having to pant due to his discomfort. He let out a small groan as he tried to move, laying his back against the wall in an attempt to feel the coolness. Everything still hurt, but the scars on his back burned the most: the evidence of his past life. Those scars hurt in more ways than one, and he always tried to forget about them. Even going as far in his youth as purposely getting scars on his back to cover them, but of course, they never did completely. They were always there, and now, they were there with a vengeance, reminding him not to forget. They burned and he struggled to find relief, the task seeming impossible. He was sure it was, but something fought against his judgment. Something he didn't want to recall but was helpless to do so. Breathing another breath of pain, he closed his eyes, not wanting, but unable to stop the memory of when he had found it, when relief had been possible.

"They'll hurt for a little while," his mother soothed, rubbing his cut and bleeding back lovely with a wet towel, holding his hand as she tried to heal his wounds that an angered slave master had inflicted upon him.

"I di–didn't d–do anything," he cried through the pain, holding onto his mother's hand tighter as the pain rocked through his body. He could feel the tears stinging his eyes, but nothing compared to the way the wet rag stung his broken skin. The fear he had consumed him as well, making his breath weak and his pain amplify, his little mind unable to stop the imagine of the angered man charging after him and the feeling of the modified electro-whip snapping into his back. "I don–don't und–erstand."

"I know. I know," his mother cooed. "It wasn't your fault my love. You did nothing wrong."

His little mind was still confused, still not able to understand, only focusing on his pain and fear, allowing it to weaken him. "I do–don't un–understand," he repeated between sobs and tears, his mother kissing his head as she let out a small cry as well.

"I wish I could protect you from the evil of his world," she whispered, again sliding the rag over his wounds as he released a small cry from his lips. "You won't understand for some time, Ani." She kissed his head again, and again, her own tears running down his face as she placed her head on top of his and held him tighter. "But you're safe now," she promised. "That's all that matters. You're safe."

He nodded in returned, his mother beginning to run her fingers through his hair before she began to rub his arm in a slow and comforting way.

A way that made even Vader feel her touch, and also made him helpless but to imagine her hands on him now. With his eyes shut within the hall, Vader could practically feel them running up and down his arms lovingly, bringing him sanity and comfort – Almost. Almost… because it never fully could. It wasn't possible, because although he remembered that small moment, he truly couldn't remember what it was liked to be touched– touched in a comforting way. He could remember his mother doing so. He could remember the way he had felt, but his own adult mind was unable to fully comprehend the feeling, having been denied it for too long.

You don't need it, a voice reminded him from his inner dark soul. Comfort is weakness.

And for a moment, he listened, agreeing with the monster. He didn't need it. Darth Vader didn't need consolation. He was stronger than that. He didn't need such comforts or weaknesses to survive. He was a Sith Lord and trained against such things– trained to not need such things. Pain was always a part of his life, and he had to embrace it to make him strong… But he couldn't find the strength. He agreed with the darkness, but the pain pulsating upon his back made him feel differently. Made him crave such desires that he knew he shouldn't. So he fought against the beast that flamed within in and he focused on the memory, trying to recall the touch he had forgotten– If only for a moment.

"Oh Ani," she breathed.

But the voice wasn't his mother's and as the memory continued within his mind it shaped completely into an entire different memory. He firstly realized he was no longer in the same room and secondly realized on an even more surprising note that the senator had replaced his mother. Senator Amidala sat beside him now, her hands where his mother's hands had been with an older version of himself beneath her fingers.

"Another?" Senator Amidala asked, tracing a scar that ran down from his shoulder and looking truly pained about the mark on his skin.

The feeling sent a thousands shivers down his spine and caused every instinct to snap within his body, some fighting to stay within the dream while the others fought to escape it. He was torn between comfort and pain, confusion and sanity. He frowned as he opened his eyes, pushing the scene away as confusion flooded his mind.

What the hell? Vader thought, replaying the vision within his head. What was that?

He knew that wasn't a memory, but the scene felt real– although he knew it couldn't be. He couldn't remember the last time someone had actually touched him– and even farther in his memory touched him in a nurturing way skin to skin. He had had sex with the senator before, but he had never been nearly naked before her while he touched his wounds. He couldn't imagine anyone doing that…

But then what was that? Vader asked himself, truly in mad wonder. If he could never imagine anyone doing so, then why had he just seen just that? Why had he just seen the senator touching him? Why had he felt her touch against his skin? And even worse… why was he craving it?

No, Vader growled inwardly, feeling a slight hardness and unexpected need enter into his body. He was caught between a nonsexual need, a sexual need, confusion, and annoyance. Which was a strange combination that he had never felt before. And like always, it was because of her, but even through his confusion, he knew anything he was feeling would just add to his troubles. He didn't need, and truly didn't want any further part of the senator. He didn't want to crave her in any other way, and he surely didn't need this.

A hunger awoke and deepened within himself as the vision replayed itself over and over within his mind, a longing building but not for sex... but the need for her touch. He could feel it again on his body, moving like a ghost and it pushed him near insanity. Vader tried to control himself, but found himself coming up short due to his state. He didn't know what to make of it besides that he had to fight it. Which meant he had no chance in hell. It was so stimulating that he didn't even care about the why or reason. He didn't care where the vision had come from or how it had formed, his mind only in wreckage tied together for his insanity for her. The act that he was envisioning with her wasn't something he had ever thought of before, but now that it had started, he couldn't stop.

His body hurt, but something else hurt within his chest– Something he hadn't felt in a very long time and because it, he nearly cried out in agony. He couldn't explain it, but he didn't like it and he knew it was the type of pain that did not give him strength, not with the Dark Side of the Force. Again, he felt crazy, a rush of thoughts and emotions clouding his judgment. He felt a push and pull within the Force, something pressing him down while another pulled him. He felt quite literally torn. The madness and pain of the entire situation making him weak and allowing the memory to play once again in his mind, compelling him to comply with one of the forces. Without thinking of his next move, he raced towards his speeder, flying through the crowded Coruscant sky, and almost instantly found himself within his establishments, running like a deranged, wild animal into his room.

The sound of him entering like a madman into his chambers made the senator, who was still lying on his bed, jump into a sitting position and look in his direction. Her eyes went wide as she looked upon him and her hair bunched together around her shoulders from obvious twisting that he had noticed always seemed to be a product of her overthinking, but Vader still saw no imperfections, the image of her sending even more tremors down his body. He watched her for a moment, another series of mixed emotions flooding his soul. He opened his mouth wanting to say something– anything but was unable to find words, the darkness holding his tongue. He frowned before growling at himself, beginning to move back and forth across his room, his mind in complete and utter turmoil. He didn't know what to do besides rage around his room like a caged nexu. The darkness gripping his soul while his emotions fought for dominance over the others.

What am I even doing? Vader silently asked himself, not able to find an answer. He couldn't possibly be doing what he thought he was doing? He wouldn't allow himself to do it! He was caught within the war of himself again and he couldn't afford another mistake. He couldn't afford to be his own victim.

"Vader?" the senator asked uncomfortably, a small amount of concern and confusion in her voice as her eyes scanned him as he moved. Her tone made him audibly groan, her concern conjuring the memory of her touching him, almost the same distress within her voice as the vision.

"I know it is unwise to lower my defenses," he finally forced out as he paced, his sentence cut short as another demon held down his tongue.

He shook his head wildly at the torture of it, at not being able to sort his thoughts or speak. He knew he seemed mad, but that was only because he was. He was completely deranged. He knew whatever he was thinking and that he shouldn't be thinking it. He knew that whatever he was about to do, that there would be no coming back from it. At the moment, he was fighting his own self. It was like some part of himself, the sane parts, weren't going to go down without a fight. They weren't going to allow him to destroy what they had built, but he needed to lean without cracking his foundation. He needed a moment to be free. He didn't even know what he was supposed to say to her, finding himself back to his predicament within the speeder. He wanted her touch, but didn't know exactly what that meant or how he went about explaining it. He just needed her to understand. He needed her to understand not only this, but realize that he was trying. He needed her to not feel the way that she did, and save him in the process.

Pausing and turning to her again, he raised his hand out trying to speak his mind, but failed miserably. He was unsuccessful at finding the words–at finding any words at all, and as the silence continued, she raised an eyebrow to him in questioning causing him to groan and return to his pace. He rubbed his hands underneath the hood as he walked, pulling at his hair in frustration. He knew what she wanted, but he couldn't give it to her. He needed to somehow explain in his own ways, but in a way that she would also understand. He needed her to understand, but didn't know how to go about it. He was completely deranged, and didn't know what to do.

He tried to think of a way he could explain but found many voids within his mind, too many barricades and walls. His thoughts couldn't make sense of themselves, and deep down he knew his training was to blame. It wasn't just his lack of socialization that was at fault, but his entire existence. He wasn't trained for this. He wasn't supposed to be thinking about anything even relating to something like this. This thinking was the kinds of matters that were hidden, blocked, and forbidden from him since he had found himself in Darth Sidious's care. It wasn't just that he didn't even know what he was doing, but it was that he couldn't even comprehend or understand what he was doing.

"Attachment is forbidden," Vader attempted to speak again as he slowed his gate, reciting one of his earliest teachings under Darth Maul in hopes the senator would understand. "Possession is forbidden. Compassion is by far the most forbidden of them all. Anger, hate, aggression will be all that remain inside of you now. From this moment on, nothing before every existed. From this moment on, only a future Sith Lord remains." He paused, eyeing her from the corner of his eye, hoping and praying she would understand, but his aspiration fell when a frown formed over her features.

"What?" she asked confused, and Vader let out a very loud sigh in response.

Returning to his pace, Vader groaned once more. He didn't understand how that wasn't a clear statement. Why couldn't she just understand? Didn't she see? Those were his earliest teachings, part of the foundation on which he was built. She had shaken it. He may have not had an attachment to her, but their relationship was enough to press the limit of that rule. He had also broken the rules about possession, because they had already come accord that they possessed each other. They belonged to one another. He was a Sith Lord with a procession: her. Then there was compassion, which he might define as sex, which was also forbidden. Which meant another rule was broken. "From this moment on, only a future Sith Lord remains." Didn't she see the importance of that statement? Of all the statements? Couldn't she see what he was doing? The rules he was breaking? And all for her!

Unable to communicate in his own way, Vader found himself only relying on his usual basic knowledge, which he was sure wouldn't make the senator pleased and would probably result in him becoming even more irritated.

He paused before her and took a deep breath, his head shaking as he spoke. "I can't say what you want me to say," he stated, just trying to find words. "I don't feel what you want me to feel ."

They were both true. Whatever was happening he knew couldn't happen– and whatever she might want him to feel was impossible. He tried to think it through more, but continued to fight against inner walls. He was denied information within his own mind, and that made him feel weak. It literally did not make sense to him, and he was positive it could never make sense to him. His training would never allow any of this, and he needed her to understand that. It wasn't even that he didn't want to understand; it was just that he couldn't. But Force he needed her to understand that! And something inside of him desperately wanted to understand too.

"I wasn't trained for this," he breathed, an almost sense of pain and panic within his voice. "My years of training didn't prepare me for any of this– And I don't think any amount of training could have prepared me for you."

Suddenly, the heat of his body felt extremely hot and without thinking he pulled down his hood. He didn't look towards the senator as he continued to move back and forth, but he felt her eyes burning into him. Though he hardly cared. His confusion was beginning to win dominance within his mind, and with that came some clarity. He fought internally against the forces that tried to confine him back into his cage, deciding just to speak simply and allow whatever he could out before it was too late.

"I was trained to be a Sith," he stated clearly, nodding his head in comprehension at the true facts he could think of. "I'm allowed to feel emotions such as anger, hate, aggression, and suffering. I'm skilled at the ways of the Force and a master at combat with a lightsaber. I can plan battles and command millions of troops without any hesitation. I understand darkness, torture, and murdering." He paused, shaking his head and exhaling a pained laugh. "But this? This I don't understand this." He turned towards her then, meeting her memorized gaze. "And for once in my life… I'm confused," he admitted, a frown on his face and pain in his eyes. "I'm confused all the time!" Vader pushed back his hair in frustration, letting out a deep breath of air as he took a step closer. "And quite frankly, I'm not sure what I'm suppose to do about it."

---

Padmé couldn't find a single word. She continued to stare, but still couldn't believe it. From the moment he had walked into the room her eyes and thoughts had been wrapped around him, but now they were stuck and most of her mind was frozen. His yellow eyes continued to watch her from where she sat on top of his bed and she could tell he was waiting for a response, a response that truthfully she couldn't find because she was still in a state of shock. She couldn't believe her eyes or ears, even halfheartedly convincing herself that she had to be dreaming. She had to still be asleep within Vader's bed, and if she wasn't… Force help her, because it seemed that her little meltdown earlier had worked, but she never imagined it would be so soon. She never imaged… Any of this.

"I'm trying to talk to you," he suddenly growled, his confusion forming into a hard, angered glare upon his face. "I believe that requires a response."

Padmé shook her head, trying to clear her mind and pull herself from her own daze. "Yes," she breathed, trying to allow her brain time to process the entirety of the situation as she looked away from his face. "I believe," she stated slowly, the conclusion in her mind and hope within her heart. "You're suppose to–"

"I don't care for you, Senator!" he snapped suddenly, reading her mind and not allowing her to finish. It was a statement she had heard before, but every time pained her heart even more than the first. "Whatever is happening," he continued wildly. "It's not what you think."

Padmé frowned in response, her irritation returning and her hope for the reason of his return dying. "Then what are you doing?"

"I– I don't know," he seemed to stumble, trying to make sense of his own thoughts and actions as he turned away from her and began to pace around the room again. "I'm just trying to make a point."

She couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes at his comment. "I told you," she stated steadily, crossing her arms over her chest tightly as she tried to look as profession as possible despite the strange circumstances. "I'm not prying anymore. I'm not going to try to understand so you have to say something."

His head snapped in her direction, his eyes wild and his face pained. "I can't!" he erupted, his hands gripping in front of him in frustration.

Padmé didn't particularly care, or she at least pretended she didn't. "Then I'm not sure what you're doing here," she said simply, beginning to turn away. "If you say you don't care and you won't–"

"I'm trying!" he yelled, almost sounding as if he was begging before his face expressed his utter frustration. "I can't– I don't–"

She wanted to stay strong, but she couldn't help the pity that ran through her heart. He truly did look pained, almost torn. Her sympathy made her angry with herself, but she was also angry that he was so complicated. He just wanted him to try– she wanted him to explain– to make her understand– to do something so she didn't feel this way. She had had hope, but now it was failing. She didn't want it to fail.

"Vader," she growled in pain and frustration, her last line of hope. "I don't understand you!"

"I know!" he screamed back in the same frustration before he began his path again. He walked back and forth and back and forth for sometime, before he let out an exasperated groan. Swearing under his breath in another strange language, Padmé watched wide eyes as he began removing his clothes. Vader pushed the cloak off his shoulders, allowing it to fall to the ground before he unsnapped his belt and relieved himself of his weapons.

He began to shed the only thing that shielded him from the universe– shielded him from her, at least in the physical state, and with each layer that fell to the floor, her heart lifted and skipped a heat.

He pulled his tunic over his head, preforming the action with more of a mix between elegance and disgrace than she thought possible. Vader removed at least three more shirts after that, all ranging in thickness until he reached the final thin layer. He took a deep breath and removed that too, freeing himself from the layers of confinement. Once finished, he paused in the center of the room, standing in a sea of black garments. He was bare from his waist up, his chest rising and falling with dramatic triumph. Apart from his boots, he wore only two other garments: his pants and his glove. His black pants held tightly to his hips, almost provocatively, and with the opportunity of his half bareness, Padmé realized not only that, but also how the glove on his robotic hand actually reached all the way up to his elbow. Two facts that she tried to note without being transfixed by, knowing the extent of what he was revealing to her.

He looked at her, his fiery yellow eyes bearing into her soul, his emotion unknown, waiting for her move, which Padmé made sure to make cautiously. His gaze held her eyes for a moment, keeping them prisoner, almost giving her a silent warning before releasing them from their prison as he looked away.

She didn't move at first, trying to control her breathing and her rapid beating heart. When she felt that she had and was confident her legs would support her, she made her move. Standing up from the bed, she kept the space between them, allowing her eyes to inspect his body before she moved any closer. She decided seconds before she began to stay profession during the entire exchange, keeping her hopes low and remaining impersonal. That was… until she saw him completely.

As she looked upon him her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. There's no way, Padmé thought between her shock and amazement. There was no way! If her breath wasn't been taken away by how attractive Lord Vader's face was before, then it certainly was now by his body. His body was just as gorgeous as his face. Well, almost. Vader's body seemed to be built upon muscle upon muscle, without a doubt reminding Padmé of some of the male statues that stood around the Palace of Theed. His body was chiseled and beyond perfect, but his skin was by far, the outlier. His skin was undeniably tan, but graced with a few large scars. Scars that did nothing but, in her opinion, take away from his perfection.

Keeping her eyes on his body, she took one or two steps forward, pausing as she did with a frown forming on her face after each step. She realized as she approached closer, that it seemed that there were not just two or three scars that laid across Vader's body, but actually a very large amount of them. There seemed to be hundreds of scars that were littered across the Sith's body. In fact, there were scars on top of scars that crossed his skin, some deeper and bigger than the rest. It literally took Padmé breath away, but this time for a far more drastic and hurtful reason.

Finally, she took a large step closer, standing within a foot of him so that she could see his body and the scars in full detail. His body seemed to be even more built up close, but it was a fact that Padmé hardly cared for now. Instead, her eyes traced his scars, taking in ever detail. It seemed from her closer inspection that although there were hundreds of scars, most of them were only so noticeable to her because she was looking– or so she hoped. It was true, he had scar on top of scar, and scars of all different shapes and sizes, but most seemed to be engraved into his skin, looking like nothing more than light animal stripes. Perhaps even being a believable excuse if she hadn't known he was already human. She supposed most of the scars were hardly noticeable from a far distance, except for the very large and deep ones. His tan complexion also helping to hid most of the marks, as some of the scars had darkened and camouflaged within his skin. She also noted that his body was covered in sweat, the glistening surface doing nothing but amplifying the marks.

The excuses didn't matter though, the sight still making her heart hurt and she too found herself almost wheezing from the heaviness of the air. The pain she felt made it hard to breath and she wondered how Vader could even bare to look at it. She didn't know or understand how it was even possible for one living being to have so many harsh blemishes. Did he remember each one? Did they still bring him pain? Could he remember the pain that he must have felt when he had received them? What had happened?

Her curiosity and pain getting the better of her, Padmé looked up to face him but was greeted by his lack of vision, his eyes looking over her head and his gaze locked on the far wall of the room. Again pain surged through her heart and she had to bit on her lip to stop any sound from releasing. Slowly, while keeping her eyes on his pained face, she reached out and allowed her fingers to touch softly against his solid chest. The heat of his body burned her fingers, but she did not pull away, it being a small price to pay for what he was allowing her to do. She rested her fingers gently against him, feeling his whole body harden and watching as his eyes squeezed shut, breathing an almost pained breath of air, like her touch burned him, just like his skin was burning her but on a more intense level.

As Vader's reaction continued to worsen, again pain gathered within her chest, realizing that she was actually "burning" him– with a different sense of the word. Although he did not push her away, his body language was enough to convey his inner plea– his own turmoil. He wasn't enjoying her touch but rather pained by it and as she watched his jaw tighten, she jerked her hand away.

I can't do this to him, she realized suddenly, her own selfish desire fading and the realization of what she was doing hitting her like a hard slap to the face. She had forced him to do this and it was too much for him. She had always wondered what had happened to make a man like this– but not this side. Her wonder had been for the monster, but she had never asked what had ruined him to this extent. What had made him like… this?

Taking a small step back, she looked up at Vader, who had still not opened his eyes. "I...", she began sorrowfully, her voice filled with pain. "I don't need–"

"Yes you do," he stated simply, his words harsh as if he was at a breath or as if there was a heavy weight lying upon his chest. "I do. We both do."

She shook her head again, knowing he couldn't see her, but also knowing he would know her answer.

"I promise you are doing far less harm to me than you think," he stated dryly. "Continue."

She wanted to refuse him again, but knew nothing good would come from it. He seemed to want this, and despite his pain, she did too. Hesitantly, she laid her hands on him again, gently placing them on his strong stomach and watching painfully as every muscle twitched at her contact. Vader took another deep breath as his body hardened and locked his jaw once more, but said nothing else. She didn't move her hands as she felt the reaction, giving him and his body the kindness to get use to her touch as he had done for her during their lovemaking session. It wasn't the same thing, but it was the same concept. It was something that she could give him for allowing her to do this.

When she thought enough time had passed, she looked at his face. She watched his reaction as she moved her hands slowly over his stomach and up his chest. Only doing soft and tiny movements as she took in the feeling of his skin and allowed him to do the same with her. As she watched his face, she took note of every detail and memorized every scar. She watched his reaction carefully, only turning back to her true objective when his face had softened slightly.

Knowing he was somewhat more comfortable, she turned her attention back to his chest, first tracing his strong muscles before tracing some of the larger scars. Padmé breathed in rhythm with the rise and fall of his chest, finally seeing the sign of a "man" within Vader. It was a small win in her book, but she found herself becoming greedy, needing just one more justification.

Without being able to help herself, she moved her hands over his chest smiling brightly as she felt the rhythm beneath, a very strong beat. "So Vader does have a heart," she breathed, more to herself than to him as she quietly listened and felt the beating of the heart against her hand.

"That doesn't belong to Vader," he replied immediately, cutting her hopes short before they could even hardly begin.

The statement sent chills down her spine, the words and the tone of his voice biting at her. He didn't sound angry– but she could tell the correction was a serious matter. He sounded almost bitter, but also dark about the matter. She frowned staring at her hands, watching them move up and down from his breathing AND his heartbeat. So what did he mean it didn't belong to him? It was beating within his chest? She could feel the heat of his blood, the feeling of it pumping through his body, and it's rhythm against her palms. How could it not be his?

She looked up again at him for a moment, wishing to see behind his closed eyes– wishing he would just explain. Why was he always so complicated? His heart wasn't something she would let go, and as she looked down at her palms again, her own heart twisted in knots, never realizing how much he craved his heart until this moment. She didn't want to let it go when it was so close. She finally had his heart in her grasp and it was only a matter of time before he made her leave it behind. Of course, she knew she had to, at least physically, that is if she wanted to continue. She was fine with that, but only with the promise that she would do this later. That somehow and in some way she could keep his heart. She didn't know what Vader meant by his comment, but she knew what her thoughts were on the matter. He was right. It wasn't his heart, because it belonged to her.

Deciding to press her limits once more, slowly and cautiously, while keeping her eyes on his face, she leaned forward and hovered her face mere inches from his skin. She paused before her lips touched, allowing him to feel her closeness, feel her breath, and realize what was about to follow– giving him the chance to stop her if it would be too much. He didn't move, and Padmé silently took his silence as permission. Gently placing a kiss under his neck and slowly following the line of a deep scar, placing two more kisses until she reached his shoulder.

She stared at the long scar once she was done, silently wondering what had caused it. He had so many that she doubted he could remember, but she still couldn't stop her curiosity as she continued to stare.

"A togorian tried to behead me."

Not expecting him to talk again, Padmé jumped as his voice echoed from above her. "What?" she asked, surprised by both his voice and comment, but also not unable to understand it.

"The scar," he said, moving his neck so that part of the scar moved with his muscles, meaning the once that she had just kissed below his neck and to his shoulder. "It's from when a togorian tried to behead me."

Padmé paused as his words processed, realizing he was answering her silent question. Pain was the next to follow as she comprehended that he could remember at least some of the scars and exactly how they had come to be upon his skin. She raised her head to look towards him and as she did, his head dropped so that his fiery eyes met hers, his face hard and obviously still pained. Padmé frowned for a moment as she looked at him, before understanding the true reason behind why he had spoken. His neck moved again painfully underneath her touch and she understood that he was almost distracting himself so that she may continue.

She graciously accepted the offer, her eyes moving back to the scar and tracing it lightly. Beheaded, she thought. He had almost been beheaded. It seemed inconceivable and almost unimaginable. She looked towards the other scars that were scattered across his body, realizing the stories the Vader must have – the pain he must had endured. She traced the scar once more, imagining the fight. Of course, Darth Vader had been the successful one; the victor of the fight, but these scars told a whole other part of the story. They told what the Emperor and Vader obviously didn't want people to know, because the Sith Lord may have been successful, but it didn't mean that his victory had come without sacrifice or harm to himself. Reaching the end of the scar line, she paused, realizing that there was more to this particular story. Another injury being tied to that specific scar, an indentation that was on his shoulder at the opposite end– a large type of circle that ringed around to the other side, passing through the scar as if they had been made together.

"His trandoshan friend had a slightly more successful attack," Vader commented, moving his shoulder and allowing the indentation to shine, revealing its actual huge size as well.

She scowled trying to imagine the whole ordeal, but was unable to do so; not capable of picturing the fight in a way that Vader made it out alive. Padmé shook her head, wanting to say something, but could only find two words that fit. "Aggressive negotiations," she whispered, raising her face so that she could look at him.

"Well," he stated slowly, and she swore she saw a smile tugging on the edges of his lips as he raised an eyebrow at her. "Not our kind."

She cracked a smile, dropping her head and looking at the markings again. She traced it gently one final time, his sweat making the deepness of the mark shine, and for the first time revealing exactly what it was. "It–" she realized suddenly, stroking over the strange indentation again. "It's a bite mark… It bit you?"

"Yes," Vader nodded plainly as if the tale was completely normal. "Quite savagely, if I remember."

This was all too much. Beheaded? Bitten? What else had he been through? She turned towards another scar that ran down his stomach, slowly tracing the line.

"And this one?"

She felt the darkness surround him before he answered, whatever good mood they had created evaporating. "A Jedi got lucky," he growled, and Padmé instantly regretted asking.

She nodded, however, trying to save the fair mood between them, slowly touching the spot on his side that had healed, but she knew was fresh. She recognized what that mark was from and could remember him pulling the object out of his side that had created it. The wound was from when he had saved her, from when he had protected her from the blast and harmed his own self in the process.

"I know this one," she smiled, eyeing him through her eyelashes as she rubbed the front of his stomach, trying to get him to relax.

It seemed to work, but only for a moment. His body locking again as she moved away, circling around him so that she was now behind him. Padmé hadn't expected anything different from what she had seen before, but froze as her gaze found his back, a loud gasp escaping from her mouth and her eyes going wide in horror at the sight. Large and deep scars, far deeper and far different than the rest, were lacerated into his skin. There were undeniably newer scars on top of the huge scars, but the large ones stood out among them, far worse and different from the rest.

"Wha–" she nearly chocked, rising up her hand but afraid to touch him. "What happened?"

A tangible emotion passed within the room, but his darkness soon covered it before it could be deciphered. "A painful past," was his only comment and Padmé could feel him pushing her through the Force to move along.

She denied his pressing at first, something internally tell her to stay, slowly and extra gently placing her hand on the very top of his back and watching as his whole body froze. She knew she didn't have much time, so she placed a small kiss on the tallest part of his back that she could reach. He didn't relax, but he also didn't push her away so she accepted the small victory. She traced one of the large markings once, then twice, feeling the deepness and the obvious pain that they must have brought him. Sorrow was evident on her face, sorrow that she knew he wouldn't want, but she desperately wanted to show him something that didn't show that she pitied him as much as it showed that she was there for him. She couldn't explain it, but she blamed it on their spark again, forcing her to reach out and place both hands on his spine. She knew she wasn't a Force user, but she tried to release all her care for him into her touch, slowly moving up and down in a way she hoped was comforting. She did that for some time, until his shoulders began to loosen and she was forced to move on, accepting his silent wishes.

She walked around again, pausing at his side to look at a small solid gash across his arm, one that hadn't healed properly and had left a miscolored indentation across his skin. It seemed far more insignificant and unnoticeable than the rest, but for some reason still managed to catch Padmé's eye. It seemed strange, yet somehow important, and she was about to ask him what it was from when the script above it caught her eye. The hidden words shimmering against his dampness, asking to be read, the script that somehow looked like a faded tattoo and was hardly legible in the darkness.

S... Padmé tried to read, the task taking some time due to the darkness of the room and the state of Vader's skin in that particular area. H…M… I… S.H.M.I. SHMI. Her eyes bulged as she realized the letters, grabbing onto his arm and forcing it out of the shadow she was casting above it to read the letters again.

Shmi.

She looked up at him in shock, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open before turning back to his arm with the same expression. She read it again and again, because she couldn't believe it. The tattoo read 'Shmi'! Just like the woman within his dream. She was real! Shmi was a real woman, and although Padmé was thrilled to learn of another piece to the puzzle, with it, another part of her heart sank. Within seconds her shock turned to happiness, and then to hurt, a storm of mixed emotions flooding her chest.

Feeling his eyes on her, she raised her gaze to meet his own, trying and probably failing to hide her fear and hurt. "Did– Did you love her?" she asked, her eyes locked upon his face, needing, but fearing to hear his answer.

She expected a quick answer. A simple and short sweet no, but for once received an answer when she didn't want one, her heart freezing within her chest as his breath caught in throat. Vader looked away, moving his gaze to the floor, staying silent before his head moved slowly up and down. "I did," he finally said, his voice low and causing a part of Padmé to break. His pained filled eyes met hers again through instantly, before she could even truly react, with a hidden anger behind them. "But not in the way you think."

She opened her mouth, but he shook his head. "I warn you," he threatened, sounding much more like a Sith Lord than the man that had been standing with her for the last few minutes. "Don't press this one, Senator."

She heeded his warning, nodding her head and turning back to his arm. She didn't press him any more, at least vocally, slowly reaching out and pressing his physical limits, touching the strange script and watching his reaction to make sure he would allow her to do so. He didn't react besides the usual, allowing Padmé to trace and study the strange letters. Giving her the opportunity to realize that although at first she had thought it to be some sort of tattoo, it actually was something far different.

"Was–" she frowned, slight confused and stunned as she looked back up at him with his arm in her grasp. "Was this burned onto you?"

This time he didn't turn to face her, and through her own confusion Padmé realized it was because she was holding his arm, the limb that he had not looked at since she had begun her inspection. He hadn't dared looked at his arm since revealing it to her, as if it was forbidden–as if he would turn to stone if he were to gaze upon it. He had allowed her to see it and that seemed to be enough, but it only spiked Padmé's curiosity.

"I don't remember," he answered, stopping the conversation before she could even begin to pry.

She couldn't tell if he was lying, but she didn't understand why he would have motive to lie. The word looked burned onto him– quite painfully and unprofessionally. It didn't look like a mark of love like she had first thought, or something he would have gotten during some sort of drunken shameless night. It just looked raw, like a marking on a farm animal such as a steer and nerf. It also looked old, like it had been there for years, and far more years than should have been possible for his age. She was sure it was burned into his skin, and the idea made her stomach turn, reminding her of his fate.

"So," she began, unable to stop herself. The image of him burning becoming even more clear and painful as she continued to figure out the man beneath the hood. "You're suppose to bu–burn."

His whole demeanor changed upon hearing her question, the temperature around them dropping as he suddenly yanked his body away. "Cease your probing," he growled, the whatever type of moment they had just shared disappearing before her very eyes.

"I'm just asking," she shrugged, trying to hide the pain it actually brought her.

He seemed unconvinced, turning and facing her with a hardened face. "I've shared enough– too much."

She nodded, not agreeing, but knowing that he probably thought it was true. "T–Thank you," she whispered, watching as he knelt down to retrieve his clothes from the ground. She truly was thankful, even though she knew it was only the start of fixing their issues. It had been a start, and he had started it. She just supposed now that meant that it was her turn.

He made no reply as he rose from the ground, about to redress until Padmé's hand found his own.

"No," she whispered, knowing she was pressing more limits, but desperately needed to not fall steps backwards when they had made it so far. "Not all of it… Please."

He nodded silently, backing away from her and kneeling back onto the floor. He shifted through the pile, pulling out a black thinner shirt, the one that had been the last to be removed from his body. He forced his arms through it and pulled it over his head, the material inching over his stomach until it hung loosely over his pants. Padmé watched as his skin was once again hidden from her eyes, although she could still see his defined muscles through the thin fabric. It was a nice change, but not all as pleasing as before.

"I need a shower," he stated, his mood changing as if the moment before had never happened. "Are you staying?"

Padmé tried not to think about him naked, but failed miserably. His newly revealed body sending deliciously, sinful images to her mind and causing a blush to rise to her cheeks as he rolled his eyes at her, making the situation even worse. "You're allowing me to stay?" she asked sheepishly, trying to keep her eyes on his face and away from his body until the redness in her cheeks faded.

"I believe we've been through his," he replied annoyed, and for some reasoning seeing his face matched his annoyance better than the endless dark hole of a hood. "Or should I also repeat that I plan to sleep with you in my bed and not have sex with you in it?"

Her blush worsened, but also a smile appeared on her face, for some reason her giddiness returning. She had spent the whole day worrying, and although she knew the issues were still ahead. She allowed herself the one moment, perhaps even the night to just think about him. To embrace the small progress that they had been made and forget about their troubles for the moment.

"I'll stay," she replied softly, sounding more like a shy child than she would have liked, but he nodded in return, his face not conveying any emotion before he turned and disappeared into the fresher.

She wasn't sure if he was pleased with her decision, but told herself if he hadn't wanted her to stay, he would have never asked. He was after all, extremely capable of kicking her out and didn't need to listen to her needs. He had asked, and she had answered. It didn't matter if his face conveyed his happiness, or looked simply displeased. She had to remember that he wasn't a normal human being and that he conversed and acted upon his own guidelines.

Listening to the water falling in the other room, Padmé took a deep breath and fell back onto his bed with a stupid smile across her face. While in the moment of being before him, she had been caught up with all of the pain and although she still ached because of it, she couldn't help her sudden joy. All of her worries seeming to evaporate for a small moment, and only focusing on the one positive thing that had enveloped her mind.

"Sith," she cursed to herself proudly, his gorgeous looks and muscular body on her mind. "I had sex with that." She giggled again, hardly believing the statement to be possible, having never seen a man more handsome than Vader in her entire life. "I am the lover to this gorgeous man."

She imagined it differently now, the sex. Even though she was blindfolded or in the dark for most of it, she always imaged the scene. She had always pictured her Vader doing those wonderfully sinful things to her body, but now it was even better. Now she could see the man beneath the mood doing those same things to her, and warmness grew within her core as she felt it too. She could never fully comprehend having sex with Darth Vader, and the topic in question was even more unbelievable now. She couldn't believe that that man had been inside of her, that his lips had been on hers, that his tongue had tasted her skin, and his hands had run across her body.

"Force," Padmé moaned, trying to control herself and keep the need inside of her at bay. She may have forgotten her worries for the moment, but she still remembered the issues they were to face ahead. She wanted now more than ever to share everything with him, after all, he had done the same with her in a less vocal way of speaking. The issue was that she just didn't want to ruin anything, and found herself still too truly nervous to speak to him involving such a matter.

She held her breath as the door to the fresher slid open and Vader came nearly storming out of it. He wore almost the exact same clothes in which he had entered, but the new garments were blacker than the ones before. He had kept his promise, putting only one shirt on instead of his various layers, the single material gripping to his skin deliciously due to his wetness. His hair hung in a tangled, wet mess upon is head, somehow gaining fullness due to the water.

She watched as he approached the bed, his eyes hard and his sights set on a mission. She hardly had time to react before he pushed her back on top of the mattress and kissed her roughly as he joined her on the bed, his body pinning her own down against the sheets. She couldn't help but moan in contentment, her previous visions getting the better of her and the sight of such a gorgeous man wanting her, fueling herself on. His kiss wasn't hard, but it was wild and Padmé even went as far as to slip her own tongue into his mouth in further encouragement. He hesitated as she did so, but eventually came to accept the presence, his own tongue joining the battle. They continued their make out session for a long while, acting like a bunch of horny teenagers until Vader's kiss moved to her neck.

Catching her breath, she allowed him there for a small time before coming to her senses. "Vader," she breathed through her pleasure, praying not to lose her ground. "Vader."

He groaned in return, knowing her request, pushing himself away from her and to a spot where he hovered above her on the mattress. "If you don't want to have sex that's fine," he said with a raise of his eyebrows. "But you can't imagine such things and expect me not to react."

She settled on giving a mischievous look, not wanting to ruin the situation, but not wanting to fuel him on either. "Now come on," she breathed, finding her grounding, trying to push him to the side so that his wet hair would stop dripping on her.

"You're going to get me wet."

It was his turn to give her a mischievous smirk, lowering his head closer to her and not allowing her to push him away. His teeth clashed against her smile, his breath mixing with her quick gasps. "I can if you want me too," he teased seductively, and Padmé's eyes widened in shock at his sudden, uncharacteristic good mood. Did Lord Vader really just say that?

"Vader!" she laughed, struggling against his hands as she tried to push him away, her grounding that she had secured slipping from beneath her and her thoughts returning to the gutter. "Stop it!"

He pulled away with a slightly amused expression. "Dirty mind, Senator!" he taunted, acting completely innocent before she shook his hair and allowed more water to fall down upon her. "I just meant like that."

"I'm sure you did," Padmé played, pushing his chest with all her might and Vader allowing her to push him onto his side of the bed. He let out a breath of amusement as his head hit the pillow, and Padmé couldn't help but frown. "You're so bipolar," she commented, turning away from him and readying herself to get the rest that she was desperately craving.

She expected him to put his arms around her, but only felt as he put his hand on her hip almost lazily, and nothing like before. Alarms went off inside her mind and she opened her eyes as a frown formed over her features once more. He was hardly even touching her, not holding or even closing the gap between them.

"Why won't you hold me?" she asked, turning her whole body over so that she could face him.

He allowed her to do so, relaxing his hand on her hip when she finished, his body facing towards her and his eyes open, but unreadable. "Lack of physical contact helps create a boundary," he stated as if reciting a phrase from a book, sounding very much like a programed droid, all cheer from his voice gone. "I don't need you in my head again."

Her heart shook within her chest, a weight dropping upon her. "But–"

He closed his eyes seeming frustrated. "You're in my bed," he stated darkly. "That's close enough."

She nodded and closed her eyes, waiting for the sound of his breathing to change until she opened them again. Thankfully he seemed to have been exhausted and it took far less time than she expected for him to fall asleep. Padmé watched him from his spot across the mattress, for the first time taking in her lover's true sleeping form. Her broken soul. He seemed so harmless as he slept, but still not normal. Even in sleep his power and essence in the room remained, an overpowering element if she was not so used to it. Vader seemed sleepless and tormented even be his slumber. His face did not relax as he breathed deeply, not able to find relief from this world even in his dreams.

Slowly, she reached out and touched his face, rubbing the lines on his forehead, watching as his scowl softened but his hardship did not disappear. Now she understood that the mystery of the Sith Lord, Darth Vader, was even more complicated than it appeared. He wasn't just a monster, but a monster that didn't even fully realize he was one. He wasn't just mentally, but physically damaged. Someone had taken a number on him for a very long time, and the result was the man that stood before her today. The monster that Vader was, being more of an illusion than the man before he would have ever admitted– possibly even more than he actually knew. He wasn't just a mystery, but a tormented prisoner, an angry survivor, and a broken man. He was someone that had fallen so far that he had lost faith in redemption, but she could see the good in him, even if he couldn't.

She knew he would never accept it, believing there was still good that still existed inside his darkened mind and twisted soul. But she just knew there was. The spark they shared reminded her of that. Their moments together reminded her of that. The pieces in which he had shared with her reminded her of that.

There was a man inside Vader, buried deep down but fighting to resurface. She could see it, and the only reason Vader couldn't was because he didn't understand. He was far too wrapped in his taught ways to realize what she could see from her years in the real world. With a slightly altered perspective and a clear mind involving the Sith, she could see the lies in which he fed himself– fed her, the lies he truly believed weren't lies. He said before that he didn't care for her, but didn't his actions contradict just that? A Sith did not love, and as he stated today did not show compassion to others, but he had to her in numerous different ways. He contradicted himself time and time. Today, to her, just further proved it.

They both had admitted something was happening, but she understood it far greater than Vader did. She may have not had the Force as an ally, but she had her spark and her intuition. He had shared this moment today with her, revealing himself and many of his secrets, a hard task for him to complete. He had no reason to truly do such a thing for her, but he had. He had done what she had requested, finding a way to communicate with her in his own way. Not necessarily communicating by her terms, but allowing his actions to speak greater words than she knew he ever could. He had made his move and now she wanted to tell him everything too but found herself coming up short, her fear silencing her. She wanted to tell him about her suspicions, about their almost child, about how she wanted birth control, about her own feelings, and countless others. She wanted to tell him everything, but knew how he could react. Sure, she believed she meant something to him and instinctively knew it to be true, but she didn't know if Vader knew that as well. She didn't know if he truly understood what he was feeling, although she knew now that he was trying.

Frustrated, she rolled over in the bed, allowing his hand to fall from her side and the space to grow between them. She snuggled into the pillow, trying to find peace, but paused as she heard his breathing change from behind her. Suddenly, he moved towards her and enveloped her within his arms, pulling her back into his chest without warning. The action made her confusion reach an all time high, and Padmé dared to glance behind her to see that his eyes were still shut.

She couldn't stop her heart from fluttering within her chest, realizing he was asleep. He was still asleep and he had craved her touch. She breathed in his touch, knowing that she craved it too and slowly snuggled into his embrace in hopes that he would no awaken to deny his visibly inner desire. He may have not said any words, but Padmé could practically taste the progress. He would never admit to anything, and she was silly to think he would, but his actions would have to be enough. Even more, his actions like this that he did unconsciously when he wasn't dismissing his own wishes.

It could be enough… It was enough! If she thought clearly and helped him understand, this could always be enough. As long as they both continued to try, why couldn't it work? He wasn't normal and she had to stop forcing him into trying to be normal. After all, nothing 'normal' fitting the man by any definition, and she had not come to care for a man that was normal. She had come to care about his complicated self, flaws and all. He had shared a large part of himself today, and she had to realize the immense meaning behind that, because it showed how much he cared for her, how much he trusted her… and she wanted to share that too.

She pulled his hands closer around her, feeling his body surround her and his skin against her head as his face came to rest upon it. "Vader…" Padmé breathed, suddenly feeling both guilty and scared, wanting nothing but to share one thing with him as well. She promised herself that tomorrow she would talk, tomorrow she would share, but it would be nothing as personal as what he had given her today. She could never show him that, and she wasn't sure she could ever speak it. It was something that frightened her too and she would never admit to him... unless he was asleep. "I'm– I'm falling in love with you…"

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Author's Note: Hi guys! Just want to give a big thanks to everyone that bugged the hell out of someone to get the issue fixed for this upload. You are all in many my own, as well I'm sure many other follower's thanks for getting the bug worked out. As always, sorry for the wait, but I hoped you enjoyed! Thanks so much for everything! Love you all! Drop me a review!