Vader's Angel
By: wertman25
Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Star Wars…. Or Anakin Skywalker… Which is a pity…
Author's Note: Please take note of the time passing between each part of the chapter.
The evening passed by slowly, the night hours just within reach but unable to come. The last few hours had felt like years, Padmé merely laying on one of the couches within the main living area, doing nothing but watching the time move slowly by. She had given up trying to think long ago, showering and using the last of her energy for the small journey to the couch. As usual, it all seemed too surreal and too much for her brain to handle. She didn't even want to try to understand it, but still her mind was filled with him.
It was obvious now that she wasn't just falling for him. She was in love– as difficult it was for her to admit it. She loved him and because of it, the bleeding between her legs hurt more than usual. She had already thought through that confusion, but the pain still resided. It hurt to know that the connection she felt to him was not powerful or true enough to create such physical evidence. It hurt to know that she didn't mean and could never mean as much to him as he did to her. It hurt to know that he would hurt her. It hurt to know that there was a possibility that he may come to the conclusion that he did not what her.
She wanted him– her lover, not Darth Vader. She wanted to be able to love him– for him to allow her love him and for him to love her in return. She wanted to fix the wrong that had been made. Rescue the man that she saw and knew was inside. There was so much she wanted, with also so much in the way. Love was complicated. That was the simple term… but to throw Vader into the mix empowered that statement to new heights. She had fallen for a Sith Lord, a confession that shook her very foundation and her inner soul. He was a complicated man to put it simply, one that she knew could never feel as she did, but she still hoped.
It was dangerous and ridiculous, but something she was unable to let go. She knew that her feelings could no longer jeopardize her own safety and that she could not allow his cruelness to continue if their relationship would also continue. He had to change– even more than he already had. If he cared, like she hoped he did, than he needed to make the effort. He had told her before to look at his actions as justification instead of his words, but even they blurred. Still, she remembered the good moments clear in her mind– the effort that he had obviously made with his own clear mind. He just had to be strong enough to be the man and not the monster– but she highly doubted she meant that much to him for him to succeed.
A heaviness grew within her heart as the disturbing facts sat within her soul, doubling on top of one another and causing the pain to only spread throughout her body. It was absolute torturous and she wasn't sure how much more she could take. Her only relief came in the form of a disruption, a sound that echoed, disturbing her pounder… and although she knew it was ridiculous, she hoped it was him.
The footsteps neared, walking forward before pausing at the doorway behind her. "Vader?" she asked– too hopeful for her own liking, leaning forward and turning towards the footsteps, the sight paralyzing her. To her shock, a Sith indeed stood the doorway, but not at all the one she had wanted.
"Senator..." the Emperor greeted, his pasty face, yellow teeth, and glowing eyes visibly within the darkness. He stood alone in the doorway, his eyes moving over her while a bemused grin appeared on his face. "How lovely it is to see you looking so comfortable. I trust you're recovering well."
Padmé instinctively and quickly guarded herself, her mind locking down and her political-self coming into play. "Emperor Palpatine," she stuttered unable to hide her evident shock, but forcing herself to stand as she tried to make herself look as presentable as possible. "What a surprise." She smoothed her dress down and threw her braid over her shoulder, taking a deep breath and finding the calmness she desired. "I am," she nodded, in return taking a small step back as she raised a challenging eyebrow and gave a mocking impression. "Though I would prefer to be recovering in my own home."
He nearly rolled his eyes at the comment, his gaze hardening and looking elsewhere. "Yes, yes, I'm sure," he replied in obvious annoyance, waving his hand before his mindset visibly changed and his gaze returned to her intensified. The corners of his lips pulled in amusement, the scheming bastard taking a large step forward. "Oh my," he frowned, a fake look of concern crossing over his features. "What is that about your neck? Have you been injured?"
She caught onto his game immediately, her blood running cold but her face growing hot. Her hand rose to her neck, covering the skin that was beginning to bruise, the place where Vader had grabbed her. "A misunderstanding," she corrected bitterly, the memory causing her eyes to flare with anger.
"Oh my, milady…" he whispered, his voice laced with false concern and pity. "I hope it does not happen again."
She bit her tongue, holding back her comments. She knew the game he was playing and knew damn well that he was the true cause behind the attack. He wanted her to react, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "As do I," she agreed, moving the conversation along, staying professional and raising a questioning eyebrow. "Speaking of which, like I said, I'm surprise to see you here. What do I owe the pleasure?"
He seemed reasonably amused but also disappointed, looking at her for a long moment before turning and raising his eyebrows. "Oh," he breathed, walking to his left to reveal a group of troopers that stood behind him. "I do drop by from time to time, but I was hoping to catch Vader before he embarked on his journey."
Padmé took note of the troopers, her eyes flicking to them for a moment, but decided to pay them no true attention, her eyes moving back to the true enemy who controlled them as he moved closer. "He left," she answered, her tone cold and to the point. "This morning."
The news did not shock him, but she didn't expect it to. He already knew that, he always knew. "How unfortunate," he breathed, unfazed by the answer and completely void of emotion. "I was hoping he would take you with him. There was a gala I was hoping you could attend."
That comment surprised her– in fact it shocked her. A million scenarios had ran through her mind, but never in a million years had she expected those words to leave Palpatine's mouth. Unable to hide her confusion, she frowned and hesitated, reasoning with herself that she had misheard him. "What?" she asked, needing him repeat the words but only causing something to spark within his eyes.
"A gala," he repeated uninterested before waving his hand. "No matter, I have other plans for you regardless."
Again, she was caught off guard. "I'm sorry?" she asked, turning her head slightly, her brain trying to make sense of the strange words he was speaking.
"I need you elsewhere, Senator."
None of it seemed to make sense, but the fear she suddenly felt was enough to speak of her troubles. "What?" she breathed with the same confusion, feeling her stomach drop as she took a needed step back. Her eyes darted to the movement of white, the troopers beginning to storm the room, walking in her direction.
The Emperor smiled at her reaction, basking in her fear, the old man pleased and breathing in the change within the room. "Have no fear," he commented as the troopers walked beside him and crossed the room towards her. "These men will escort you."
"Escort me where?" Padmé snapped, her fear and anger both evident within her voice. For once, she wanted to stay in Vader's establishments and the thought of leaving was even more frightening then her fate there. She had no idea what the Emperor had planned, but she could only guess of its cruelness. With wide eyes, she watched as a pair of troopers restrained her arms, taking a spot on either side of her despite of her protests before pulling her forward.
Palpatine ignored her question, only laughing slightly at the sight. "Safe travels, Senator Amidala."
Padmé fought against the trooper's grasp, attempting to stand strong despite the men that grabbed her arms. "Emperor Palpatine," she said, her voice harsh and refusing to be silenced. "As a member of the Imperial Senate under the protection of Lord Vader. I demand for you to answer. Where are you taking me?"
He only smiled, his pale face filled with amusement– at her demand and the situation– before he motioned for the men to continue. "I suppose you will learn when you arrive," he answered. "As I said, safe travels."
Obi-Wan knew it was foolish to waste such precious time, but he also knew it was something he had to do. It had taken him some time to find, the entire day and night passing before he found the correct spot. The morning suns shined as he walked towards the site, the gravestones lining the sea of sand that stood looking out towards the vast nothingness. He allowed the Force to be his guide him, pulling him in the direction of the correct grave– or graves.
The so-called child Skywalker was first in the row, the tombstone small and faded, even cracked and aged in a way the others were not. It looked as if it had been tampered with, the side of the stone crumbling, assumedly beaten, which Obi-Wan thought was strange. He could hardly make out the name embezzled within the rock, an actual impossible task if he had not been searching for it: Ani Skywalker. He paid it no attention however, refusing to accept such fate, his eyes staying on his true target.
A humble headstone sat near the end of the long row, Shmi Skywalker written elegantly on the smooth rock. In contrast to the other graves, he noticed how hers seemed to be flawless, nearly preserved against the heat and harsh sand, looking far newer than the rest. There was a strange strength and movement within the Force as he approached, almost as if the woman was standing there waiting for him. He knew it was strange or perhaps showed how insane he had become, but he felt almost compelled to talk to her as he paused before her resting place, bowing his head as he whispered a greeting of, "Milady."
Of course he received no reply, but the Force moved strangely again, a comforting feeling washing over Obi-Wan in a way that he could not explain.
"I apologize for disrupting your peace," he continued, raising his head as he made direct eye contact with the name etched on the stone, kneeling to be closer to the ground with his hands folded professionally. "I'm– I'm looking for a man, a man that I believe to be your son." He paused, allowing his words to seep into the very ground. "He is the key to end this madness within the galaxy."
The Force gave no reply this time, staying still and almost hesitant.
"I'm sure," Obi-Wan whispered, his face pained but remaining kind and understanding. "That he could never mean to us what he meant to you, but the people– the galaxy needs him. I need to find him, but he seems to be lost, which is why I have come to you." He took a deep breath shaking his head, his eyes moving over every letter within her name as one of his hands gripped the sand above her resting place. "Surely, his mother would know where he is."
The Force flared again, swirling around him, a panicked storm that told him nothing.
"I need to find your son," he repeated again, his voice cracking and his head bowing with his last hope. "And if by the Force it is possible you could help guide me, I promise to protect him."'
He didn't truly expect an answer, his sanity already dwindling, but he still hoped for a miracle. The Force continued to swirl around him madly, a strange sense washing over him as he felt a pain rise within his chest. Closing his eyes, a sort of haze formed before capturing him, a vision playing itself out within his mind.
The Chosen One stood before him, far younger than before, looking like the previous padawan he had encountered within his visions some time ago. The boy was visibly upset, his pain tangible within the air, a suffering pain that Obi-Wan had never felt before. It was heavy and reached all the way through his soul, a connection severing that was supposed to remain forever. Obi-Wan wanted to help the boy more than anything, to understand, but he could feel a cold slate where their bond should be, Anakin blocking him out and giving nothing away. The Chosen One was mad, that much was clear, the boy fighting the tears that were beginning to trail down his face and his hands locking tightly by his sides– a newly placed robotic limb flaring.
"She died, Obi-Wan!" he cried, his voice breaking as another sob caught in his throat. "She's dead! They killed her!"
Like before, the words rolled off his tongue without him controlling it. A true sense of pain in his chest, truly feeling for the young man before him and wanting nothing but to ease his padawan's pain. "Anakin," he breathed, knowing his words would mean nothing but still having to say them. "I can never understand your pain, but I am truly sorry. There was nothing–"
The Chosen One shook his head. "I should have been there," Anakin argued, his voice harsh while his eyes grew hard. "She died in my arms! Don't you understand? I should have been there! I could have saved her!"
"Talking to the dead? Is that wise, my young apprentice?"
The voice startled him; Obi-Wan flinching dramatically before he opened his eyes and paled at the sight before him. "Master," he breathed in astonishment, his eyes moving over the clear figure that stood before him. "You're here."
The clear figure of Qui-Gon Jinn simply smiled. "I am," he agreed, nodding his head in approval and proudness. "Your training is complete."
Obi-Wan frowned, his head falling to one side, staring at the ghost with the same shock and confusion. "My training?" he asked. "What training?"
"You have learned how to successfully communicate between the fields of the Force," his master replied with a smile, crossing his arms over his chest as he took a step forward. "So your training is complete."
Obi-Wan took in the words, his brain slowly processing them. "So you're really here?" Obi-Wan pressed still not fully convince, his eyebrows rising as his gaze traveled up and down the ghost. "This isn't just me going crazy?"
His master laughed, a good hardy laugh that made Obi-Wan instantly relax. "You're stronger and wiser than you give yourself credit for, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said recovering, scolding him as if he was a padawan, although a smile pulled on the corners of the elder man's lips. "A far better Jedi than even me."
Obi-Wan smiled, but one that held more complication than happiness. "You may say that," Obi-Wan breathed with a shake of his head. "But now my confusion has only grown."
"How so?"
He didn't know how to explain, but fought to find his words. It was a complicated situation and one that only seemed to become more complex each time he neared the truth. "These… visions," Obi-Wan began, unable to hide his confusion and hesitation. "If yours were true… Does that mean that these are as well?"
Qui-Gon nodded, understanding his confusion, but as always only adding to it. "Perhaps not," he answered, "but also maybe."
Obi-Wan fought the urge to roll his eyes, holding his tongue to keep a sigh from escaping. He should have known. "Master…" he begged, truly in agony. "Please stop with the riddles."
Qui-Gon merely continued, his face slightly hardening as he neared his padawan before he paused directly in front the man. "Obi-Wan," he scolded, his arms locking tightly across his chest in a stance that Obi-Wan knew quite well. "You must trust your own instincts. They have gotten you this far."
"Talking to the dead?" Obi-Wan asked, raising a challenging eyebrow.
His master raised his own in return, always having a quick comeback that made Obi-Wan feel like the foolish teen. "A skill that not even I had during my time alive," Qui-Gon commented, his arms unfolding as he held a lone finger out. "So what does your instincts say?"
Obi-Wan wanted to argue, but knew that his points would be pointless. It was obvious that his master wanted him to do this alone, for reasons that he did not understand. Still, Obi-Wan wished Qui-Gon would just disclose the information, but instead of arguing he shook his head, submitting to his master's wishes. He closed his eyes and concentrated on thinking about the visions, but more importantly his feelings concerning them– the connection and the déjà vu. "I don't recall them," he admitted, stuck within the present and his own haze. "But they feel real, like a memory."
"Sometimes a destiny is so powerful it cannot be changed," Qui-Gon replied. "But the way we find our destiny can be."
Obi-Wan frowned, opening his eyes and eyeing his master. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Qui-Gon replied, taking a step backwards. "That the outcome of the story will always be the same, regardless of how it takes place."
Riddles again. Always riddles. "Master…" Obi-Wan breathed, unable to hide his annoyance. "Plea–"
Qui-Gon held up his hand, silencing Obi-Wan before he could finish. "The Emperor is powerful, Obi-Wan." he continued, his eyes growing hard as a frown overtook his gentle features. "He tricked the Jedi. He tricked the Republic. He was able to do all of this because of what he had foreseen."
That Obi-Wan could understand. "The Dark Side clouds the Force," he agreed with a nod, trying to not think about the pain rising within his chest. "It clouds everything. No one could have seen a tragedy such as this."
Qui-Gon shook his head, his hand rising and his mouth opening just enough to tell Obi-Wan that he disagreed. "Unless someone truly knows only the Dark Side," he commented. "And knew it enough to foresee even a farther future that he did not like."
Obi-Wan remained silent for a long moment, processing his master's words with a small frown. It still did not make sense to him, but with the help of the Force he tried to understand. "So," he wondered aloud as his hand stroked his beard, trying to make sense and place together the information. "Palpatine foresaw the future… and then changed it?"
"It isn't that simple, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon disagreed, his voice suddenly hard. "There are consequences with tampering with elements of the Force that we do not understand. Creation. Life. Death. Time. The true balance."
He felt another heaviness fall upon his shoulders, something twisting within his chest as the Force moved around him. "But what you're saying…" Obi-Wan began slowly, the information slowly beginning to make sense within his mind. "Is that what I am remembering, is a future that was suppose to happen… but never did."
Qui-Gon did not agree, but he also did not disagree. Instead, a silence fell upon the pair, a painful emotion growing within the elder man's eyes before his gaze fell upon the grave below them: Shmi Skywalker. "Some things cannot be truly changed, Obi-Wan," he eventually said, his voice barely above a whisper and his mind lost within a memory. "Destiny cannot be changed. The Force's will, cannot be changed."
The progress he felt growing, withered and died before his eyes. "That doesn't make any sense," Obi-Wan argued, shaking his head and taking a step towards his master. "None of this does."
Qui-Gon turned away from the grave, the sadness gone from his eyes and replaced by another emotion that Obi-Wan could not distinguish. "The Emperor changed the future he saw," Qui-Gon replied, meeting Obi-Wan's gaze. "He made sure key events never happened. He acted accordingly to stop the future he saw and made it into the future he wanted. He twisted and changed everything to his own will…" Qui-Gon shook his head, looking up to the sky above. "But what he doesn't understand is that the Force will find a way. He doesn't understand that he can prolong his own destiny, but that does not mean he will change it."
"How is that possible?" Obi-Wan asked, his confusion still evident within his voice although he managed to keep it somewhat at bay. "How can I be seeing a future that never existed?"
Qui-Gon smirked, almost amused as his gaze returned to his padawan and he held out his finger. "Consequences, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon pointed out again. "Although it was Palpatine that did this. It is not only he that has suffered the consequences."
Obi-Wan nodded, party following but still fighting to understand. "But if the future is always the same regardless? Then why–"
"No," Qui-Gon said, cutting him short. "Not always."
"But," Obi-Wan breathed, feeling madness once again breathing down his throat. "But you said?"
"Some things are unavoidable, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, "but not everything. Things may still happen, but that does not mean the ending will always remain the same."
Obi-Wan stared at the man with wide-eyes, the madness within beginning to get the best of him. "Master," Obi-Wan breathed, closing his eyes. "I wish you would just tell me."
"If I tell you, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon replied taking a step forward, his voice truly heartfelt. "Than I put everything at risk. All might come undone. You just must trust your instincts." He paused until Obi-Wan opened his eyes, his glowing hand reaching out and resting on Obi-Wan's shoulder. A pain-filled look passed over Qui-Gon's eyes and through the Force, Obi-Wan could feel his master's ache. "A graver ending awaits the galaxy," he confessed, his voice low and almost regretful. "But it is a fate that can be changed. The Force will be your guide and present you with all you need to succeed. You just need to listen."
His heart twisted once more in his chest, the heaviness growing. The words sat within his ears and took their own toll on his body. "Master –" he tried to beg, but watched helplessly as Qui-Gon evaporated before his very eyes, his com beginning to ring and breaking the conversation that had been taking place. He could do nothing but stare at the ground as the device continued to ring in his pocket, only breaking out of his trance when the call ended and echoed again.
Pulling himself away from the sand, Obi-Wan fought the storm of thoughts and emotions that were beginning to build inside. He focused only on the sound of the device, finding it quickly in his pocket. "Kenobi," he snapped as a greeting, not meaning to sound as frustrated as he did, but unable to recover.
"A liar, you never were, Obi-Wan," the voice responded from the other side, instantly making his stomach drop and giving away the identity of the caller.
"Master Yoda," he breathed, his voice regrettable as he rubbed his hand in frustration across his face. "Forgive me," he continued, already knowing the reason for the call and his inability to continue the lie he had fed to the Rebellion to his master. "I should have made contact earlier, but I am close, Master."
"Yet, told the Rebellion different, you have," Yoda replied, his voice conveying his disapproval– and even more painful, his disappointment.
The younger Jedi held his ground, standing true to his decision and actions. "I had no choice," Obi-Wan replied, believing the answer to be true and wanting nothing more than the elder master to understand. "It was a decision made for the best interest of the Rebellion."
There was a long pause on the other end, but an eventual surprising reply. "Agree with your decision, I do," Yoda eventually responded, shocking Obi-Wan to his very core. "Though, informed, I want to be."
"Yes, Master Yoda," Obi-Wan replied, wasting no time as he turned with the device in his hand and began to walk away from the graveyard. "I am leaving Tatooine momentarily, I have much information that must be deciphered."
"A plan we must have," Yoda replied. "Lie we must not, but keep information we must."
"I agree," Obi-Wan nodded. "The Rebellion is shaking as it is, as is our power within the Force."
"Much trouble, I sense," Yoda continued, his voice conveying his own turmoil. "Dangerous, this decision is, but speak of it later we must." He paused for a moment; a movement happening within the Force that Obi-Wan could detect but could not explain. "Being planned, a rescue is," Yoda finally admitted. "For Senator Amidala. Waiting for you, Naboo officials are."
Obi-Wan's hands tightened around the device, the news sending another series of shocks through his body. The emotions and thoughts he had tried to lock away slammed against their confinements of his mind as another sense of madness washed over him. He was caught between a spot of annoyance and happiness, the moment picking the worst time to reveal itself and adding yet another item onto his overflowing plate. In fact, his plans were falling apart right in front of him, nothing at all going as he hoped or planned. How could he handle a rescue, a lie, and continue his search for the Chosen One? How could he possibly succeed?
Thankfully, Master Yoda did not wait for him to respond, his voice echoing through the device before Obi-Wan could even begin to think. "Leave, you must," he commanded, his voice far graver than before. " In trouble, I sense you are."
Vader exited his shuttle, walking slowly and regrettably down the ramp and towards the hot sand below. He was greeted by the blistering early morning twin suns, which shined down from above mocking him with its foul welcome. A large group of misfits waited just beyond the landing dock, the different creatures all savage and rugged, tired and aged by the harsh environment around them. The leader of the gang, a Weequay male who Vader had dealt with before stepped forward as he approached, walking towards the shaft and kneeling respectively at its end.
"Lord Vader," the male stated in his natural tongue, bowing his head slowly as his men behind did the same. "We are honored to have you with us once again."
"Krug," Vader responded, wasting no time with pleasantries, the Huttesse rolling off his tongue effortlessly. "I have read your reports. I trust you still have eyes on the man?"
The creature hesitated, a low hiss in his large throat as he rose from the ground. "We did," he said, his hesitation overpowered by anger although the man remained obviously uncomfortable. "But we had a betrayer within our ranks."
A snarl left Vader's chest, one that made everyone within radius take a large set back, visibly cowering. "Who is this betrayer," Vader hissed, his eyes scanning all that stood behind the Weequay. "Is he among us?"
The leader nodded, turning to his group and motioning somewhere within. "To-Tame," he yelled, his voice more a command to the group than to the person themself. "Bring him forward."
The gang wasted no time grabbing a Gotal that stood within the pack, shoving him forward until he was standing with the pair. Vader was the first to move, taking a large step into the sand, moving forward until he was directly in front of the large Gotal, meeting him eye to eye.
"You warned the Jedi?"
The fear rising off the creature wasn't at all satisfying, only worsening Vader's mood and adding to his anger. The Gotal feared him, but had something that kept him from cowering completely– still, his fear was evident, unable to look Vader directly in the eye. The Gotal slowly nodded, an answer to Vader's question as his eyes moved away from the darkness beneath the hood.
He warned him.
His answer should have been grounds for interrogation, but instead Vader slashed him. Acting only on anger and without a single thought, Vader ignited his blade and effortlessly moved it through the creature's body inward and back again. It may have been the Gotal himself. It may have been the Jedi. It may have been the heat. It may have been the sand. It may have been the blistering twin suns, but whatever it was caused Vader to smolder, unable to control his emotions. It was a mistake if he ever saw one, his anger only flaring with the situation and himself as he realized his actions. After the deed was done, he looked to the lifeless limbs on the sand, his nostrils flaring and his breath sounding like a deranged animal.
"I hope," he breathed, his voice cold and threatening. "That I did not come all this way just to dispose of a traitor. I would be quite disappointed."
"Uh–Of–" Krug stumbled, trying to remain even despite the scene that had just erupted before him. His eyes moved between the body and the Sith, not entirely shocked but still taken back. It was a fair attempt, but a vain one. It was obvious the man had seen worse crimes, but the fear sweating off of him like blaster fire only added to Vader's power. "Of– Of course not, Lord Vader,"
"Good," Vader said, raising his gaze from the dead body to face him. "What information did you find?"
"The Jedi," Krug reported. "He is looking for someone. Skywalker."
"I know as much," he replied, trying to hide his annoyance– the fool before him actually thinking he was being useful. "Did he find anything?"
"Nothing," Krug said, shaking his head. "As far as we are aware."
The comment spiked his already blazing anger, the beast roaring and causing Vader to take a sudden step forward in the man's direction. "I want sureness," Vader snapped. "Not just confidant guesses."
"If you wish," Krug responded without delay, not at all physically fazed by Vader's sudden closeness as he turned slightly to his side to open the conversation to his men. "We can question locals again. Search the nearby area of the city. Double check everything that we searched."
"I leave that to you," Vader growled, his annoyance now hidden within his anger. "I just want the Jedi."
"Of course, Lord Vader," Krug nodded before bowing his head. "We shall follow To Tame's direction and continue our search the Jedi."
For once, Vader truly regretted killing the pile of flesh, nearly slapping himself as he bit his tongue. He didn't know what had come over him, especially with so much at state. He had disposed of someone that had liable information– or so he hoped not. "To Tame… had information?" he asked, his hands tightening as he prepared for the answer.
Thankfully, the gangster shook his hand. "Not much, just a name."
His body was soothed and then spiked, the new information flaring his senses. "A name?" he asked, unable to hide his sudden and undivided interest. "What name?"
"Of the Jedi," Krug answered. "Presumably fake."
Vader raised his head, some part of himself agreeing while another screamed for the answer. "What was the identity he gave?"
The answer seemed to take a millennia, the man's lips moving but the words never reaching Vader's ears. He waited with nothing but anticipation, his every sense waiting for the answer of: "Ben, Ben Kenobi."
It was a name that made his whole world freeze, his reality collapsing as the twin suns melted into a puddle and the sand became nothing but ice beneath his feet. "What?" he asked, unable to hide his shock, his own eyes widening and his heartbeat thumping within his ears. It couldn't be.
"Kenobi," Krug repeated, the word still as unexpected as before. "Ben Kenobi."
Kenobi.
The memory began before Vader could even try to cease it, the name ringing loud and clear within his mind. Kenobi. He found himself back to the beginning of the Empire– to when he had first been revealed. Kenobi. It had been a long time in the making and the Dark Side had finally won. Kenobi. The war was finally over and the Jedi had been destroyed– nearly. Kenobi.
"You have done well, but I sense the Jedi's presence remains in the galaxy," his master began displeased. "I trust you will take care of them and rid them completely of existence."
"I will kill them all," Vader replied obediently, fighting against his ego and anger as he continued to walk in pace with his master down the long hall.
"No. A Jedi remains that I want, Lord Vader," his master breathed, his eyes closed as a vision played itself within his mind. "An old friend of mine, Obi-Wan Kenobi."
Vader's teeth gritted and his anger flared, but he made no act against his master's request. "Yes, Master." he nodded. "And our course of action?"
"None," Sidious said, surprising him. "Master Kenobi will hide until the time is right. He will be your key to rise from the ashes. He will think he has beaten us, only to realize he has finally created the true monster."
The memory changed, forming into a vision– a vision of fire and lava. Vader fell from his height, crashing to the ground with a loud scream. He felt as the pain surged through his body– or what he felt of it, looking up from where he laid below on top of the burning sand– looking up as he slid down the bank to his destiny– looking up at the man that stood above: Kenobi.
"That's not his name," Vader hissed, escaping his vision with a newly kindled burn within his chest. It was finally him– the man that would make him burn. He was finally here.
The creature before him hesitated; taking in Vader's newly developed anger as he took a step back. "I'm sorry, my lord?"
"That's not his name," Vader repeated, his voice deeper and darker than before. "His name is Obi-Wan, and I want him found. Now."
The leader did not ask any further questions, saving his own life by listening to the sudden demand. "Yes, yes," Krug nodded, turning back to his men as he motioned around him. "You heard Lord Vader. Move!"
The immediately responded to their order, but Vader paid them no attention, the Force swirling around him with his thoughts elsewhere. His body continued to burn, regardless of the vision's passing, his mind only able to focus on one fact: Kenobi. Turning away, Vader knew he could waste no time, knowing he had to contact his master and retreating into the belly of the shuttle as made his communication.
The hologram of his master appeared almost immediately, the old man obviously surprised. "Lord Vader," he greeted, sounding pleased but also hesitant. "An update so soon."
"This situation demanded it," he replied without delay, dropping to his knee quickly before raising again– an action that caused his master's displeasure to appear.
"I see," the Emperor replied, all previous emotion gone as his face turned cold. "And what makes this situation so dire? I hope our friend did not leave Tatooine with any information."
Vader shook his head. "He came here looking for information, but received none."
"So he was a Jedi?"
"Yes," Vader said, pausing for a long moment before looking his master in the eye. "Kenobi."
Unlike Vader, the name caused no anger to form of the other Sith's face. Instead, Sidious's eyes brightened, a large grin plastering across his face. "AH," Sidious said pleased– almost overjoyed. "So Master Kenobi does live!" He clapped his hands once before throwing them forward, brushing away an invisible substance. "Well then, call off your search! Allow him to escape!"
Vader had expected the reaction, but not the command. "What?" he questioned before he could stop himself, his hands tightening onto his belt in an attempt to remain obedient.
His master's gaze moved back over him too pleased to be soured by Vader's question. "We know he is alive and he has no information," Sidious replied, before his eyes darkened and he held a pale finger out. "Do not forget he is of great importance in our future plans."
"I haven't," Vader said, shaking his head– as if he could ever forget. "But Master, I could–"
"No matter, Lord Vader," the Emperor interrupted, not allowing Vader to finish as he swung his hands again. "I have no doubt you shall meet him soon enough."
"As do I," Vader agreed, attempting to argue. "Bu–"
"Now," Sidious continued, leaning back into his chair and forming into the powerful dictator. "Your presence is required on Felucia."
Vader frowned, actually shocked by the simple turn of events. "Felucia?"
"Yes," Sidious nodded. "I will inform you with the details when you arrive. Leave immediately."
His irritation and anger grew, driving him towards insanity and making it nearly impossible to stay the loyal apprentice. "Master," he said, never thinking he would actually find an excuse to stay on Tatooine. "I have merely just arrived and I would hate to waste such a costly journey. I would like permission to search the city myself. Just to make sure that the Jedi truly did not find anything."
"So be it," his master snapped, throwing his hand in a dismissive fashion. "Take a stroll down memory lane, but I want you on Felucia by tomorrow."
"Yes, Master."
Vader didn't call off the search, despite his master's orders. He imagined that the gangsters wouldn't find anything regardless, but he also wouldn't come in the way of a chance. In truth, he didn't care what Sidious commanded– not when he was so close. He couldn't turn his back and run now. He wanted nothing but to find the man– to find the Jedi. Kenobi.
The name flared his anger, but also caused a strange emotion to sour within his soul… because the coming of Kenobi meant that his time was near. He rubbed his face; irritably pulling the sand that had already begun to stick to his skin. Part of him wanted to be the loyal apprentice, while another wanted to find Kenobi, to duel him and prove he was, and would always be victor. He didn't know how he would lose a battle and he wanted to meet the man that would make him– meet the man that would change him into the monster forever– to see his so worthy opponent in the flesh.
Unable to stop himself, he headed off in the familiar direction of the city, pressing through the sand and towards his prey. He had always told himself that there would never been a good enough reason from him to return to this place, but something inside told him that this was enough. When Kenobi was the prize, he could push forward and through void. Reaching out, he allowed the Force to guide him, allowing it to pull him towards the path of Kenobi. He paid no attention to anything around him, only focusing on the connection, the Force, and his prize. He followed the pull until he felt it no more, only then coming out of his self-induced state to take in his surroundings–the surroundings that were all too familiar: Slave Quarters.
"Sith!" he cursed, swearing at himself and the Force, the energy leading him a stray. Why had it brought him here? He reached out again, desperate to leave, feeling the Force swirl but without a direction. He thought perhaps it was possible that Kenobi had been there, looking for answers– but again he didn't care. He knew the Jedi hadn't gotten any– or so he had been told. Still, Vader only cared to be away from this place and for the direction of the Force to guide him, but the energy did not pull him or enlighten his way.
"Kriffing hell," Vader whispered under his breath upon further failure, realizing the energy's denial of his request–which wasn't actually possible. He growled in annoyance, beginning to walk in the direction of an exit, following the path that he remembered well. I can do it without you, Vader thought with bitterness, feeling personally assaulted by the energy field and furthering his path into madness.
He tried to pay zero attention to the familiar buildings that lined the street, something that should have been a simple task, but in reality was something that Vader found completely challenging. He felt a sort of tug on his chest; pulling him back and making him slow his pace through the street– the feeling distracting him from his goal. An energy spark from around him, a strange electricity washing over him before a change happened inside. All at once, his anger seemed to disperse and be replaced by unusual emotions– that was until his anger put up a fight.
His emotions began to wage war within inside of him, thickening his confusion and the sick feeling that was beginning to form within his stomach. He released a groan, his hand sliding up inside his hood to push back his moistening hair. Reaching out to the Force, he felt just as trapped as he did physically, feeling like his boots were melted to the sand, unable to move.
Your time is near, repeated itself within his mind, not at all creating the reaction he thought it would. Your time is near.
Anger had been his first reaction, but that was always his first reaction– his go-to emotion before his mind was given the chance to think. Time had passed now and reasonably his thoughts were beginning to form. It was out of his hands when it came to his own mind and unlike the confident Sith… he wasn't so sure. He didn't know how he was feeling, but also didn't know why he should feel any different than before. It wasn't a new fate. It was the same fate– his destined fate. The fate he had trained to fulfill his entire lift. A fate… that was beginning to make him sick…
What is happening to me?
He wasn't sure what had him acting so strangely, but he thought maybe it had to do with Tatooine and his history with the place. This place held Anakin Skywalker's only home– only connection and last memory. Everything was ending, anything and everything involving Anakin Skywalker. In a way, the boy had ended long ago, but now there would be nothing left. He would burn and every trace of his past with him. Vader would no longer be a man, but a monster and a machine. He would finally reach his destiny and lose every part of Skywalker that was left.
But then what of the senator?
The thought entered in his mind before he could stop it, making him frown but not with anger. He hadn't thought about her since he had left his establishments, having showered and packed without telling her goodbye. He had told her he needed time to think and he truly did, but he was a fool to think any more time would allow him to draw a different conclusion. He almost couldn't explain it, but he didn't want to kill her– not truly. She was a threat to him and his trained instincts always acting accordingly, but every time her death was just within reach, he wouldn't do it. He wouldn't do it, which was not to be confused with he couldn't do it. He was very capable of killing her, but something inside ached every time he harmed her, something that he couldn't even begin to explain or understand.
It would ache forever, he was sure of it. Once he burned it was the only option, her death. If his time was short than that meant hers was too. It meant that their time together was coming to an end– that he would have to end it– them– her. He would never have to deal with the irritating, annoyance of a beautiful woman again. He wouldn't feel her touch or her comfort. He wouldn't be able to tease or pleasure her. He would be free of her… He would be alone and no longer a man… while she rotted within the ground.
Again, a strange feeling surged inside of him, concurring his anger for Kenobi and nearly making him collapse in the middle of the street. It was confusing and something he could not distinguished. It was like a real war was being fought from inside of his body and he himself would die in the battle no matter which side was the victor. It was madness… and never in his life had he felt so lost.
"Don't fret my child," a voice spoke from beside him, startling him out of his thoughts. "Sometimes being lost is when you find the thing you need most."
He turned towards the voice, his body instantly locking as his gaze came over the old soul that had spoke, his eyes sparking with recognition. "Maggie…" he whispered before he could stop himself, too shocked to stay composed as he continued to stare dumbly at the ghost of his past.
The old woman paused, frowning at him. "Do I know you, son?" she asked sweetly, looking and sounding the same as he remembered.
Of course she didn't recognize him, being hidden under the hood and having not seen him since he was a boy, but he recognized her. "No," he answered quickly – too quickly. A frown forming over his features as he looked away and fought to regain himself. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to do this. Something about this place tightened his heart and the woman only made it worse.
"Well," she breathed, limping along and catching his eye, the heavy basket that she carried weighing down her fragile bones. "A fine guess then."
He didn't know why, but he went after her. "Let me," he offered before he fully comprehended his action, grabbing the basket from her with ease as she gave him a grateful smile.
"Thank you," she beamed, her old face looking even more broken under the harsh light. "That's very kind."
Truly, he was amazed she was still alive. She had aged greatly since he had last seen her, an alarming fact since as he had held her under the category of ancient since he was a little boy. She continued to limp forward as he strolled beside her, the slow pace causing his irritation to spike, but surprisingly staying calm. Thankfully he knew the street and remembered her hut location as well, allowing himself to walk a few steps ahead when their destination neared. He set the basket down in front of a small stool as she neared, a small smile on her face as he awaited her.
"You seem to know your way around this place," she commented, sitting down upon her stool before turning to her work. "You've been here before?"
"I've been many places," he replied simply, eyeing the extravagant materials she pulled from the basket, the smooth fabric clashing with her scraps of clothes and giving the merchandise, as well as her status away. Slave was a definition written all over her brittle features and secretly his too, meaning that the fabric laughed in both of their faces. He could even remember a time when he had gotten in trouble for playing with such prized and expensive merchandise, the mark of the whip still stinging his back. "And the Bac Trev's should learn to cherish the correct merchandise."
"Ah," she mused, looking at him without stopping her work. "So you are a local."
Shit, he froze, realizing his mistake too late.
"Calm, my boy," she laughed, always being the most observant. "I see that is information you wish not to share, so I shall not pry, but I do sense that something is bothering you."
His heart twisted in his chest, the darkness growling a threat that Vader ignored. He knelt beside her, unable to stop his actions. The woman always having a way of sensing things: emotions, thoughts… storms.
"Storm is coming, Ani," she smiled at him, rubbing his hand affectionately as she gave him material to give to his mother. "Better get home quick."
His teeth cracked at the memory. "And how could you possibly know that?
"I'm an old woman," she replied, a laugh echoing within her core that confessed her expiring age. "I've seen a lot in my life. Your true mind is elsewhere on something far away." She paused raising an eyebrow. "Or perhaps someone."
"Hmm," Vader mused, slightly impressed, looking down to the ground and back again.
"So it is," she smiled. "A woman?"
He couldn't help but to roll his eyes. "An irritating one," Vader corrected, shocking even himself upon saying the comment. He frowned the second it left his lips, wondering where the hell it had come from and why he would even say it. What the kriff was he doing?
She didn't seem to take in his reaction, only nodding her head with a small smile. "An irritating woman," she repeated with a small laugh. "I say men are the irritating species, but I suppose I'm certainly bias." She shook her head, looking at him. "A woman that gets on your ever lasting nerves, yet you can't get her out of your mind." Her smile widened, looking back to the fabrics. "Sounds like you're in love."
The comment surprised him, taking him completely off guard and causing something inside his chest to drop. "What?" he paled, the statement immediately catching his attention and causing the war inside him to battle even more fiercely.
"In love," she repeated with the same sweet voice, nearly singing the two short words. "You sound like a man in love."
If he weren't so out of character, he would have broken her neck for even suggesting such a thing. The weight behind the statement beginning to swing full force at everything he had created and was inside his dark soul. "No," he snapped, his voice regaining its toughness as he shook his head. "I'm not."
The old woman– Maggie– took note of his change immediately, but surprisingly let out a small laugh instead of showing any fear. "There is nothing to be ashamed of," she pressed, her eyes glistening with pure happiness. "Love is a wonderful and confusing thing."
He nearly roared in outrage, the beast clawing against his chest as he tightened his grip around his own arms. "I'm not in love," he repeated confidently– truly meaning the statement… That was, until he felt a different kind of spark run through his veins, one that argued with the monster and caused his mind to wonder. "I can't be..."
He knew it wasn't possible– that it couldn't be possible, but something inside made his arguments seemed void. The warring emotions that he couldn't make sense of suddenly seemed to whisper, screaming not their names but the higher emotion they were attached to. A heat rose within his body, swirling in his stomach and making his heart fall farther into his hollow cavity. He suddenly felt sick, an unpleasant feeling in the pit of his belly that made it harder to breath. The facts began to line themselves together, furthering his confusion but pressing him closer to that forbidden fact. With a frown on his face, his eyes turned wide as the possibility seemed less and less impossible.
Love? Was it truly possible that's what he felt? Is that what all the conflicting feelings meant? He reasoned that it could explain his confusion having never felt such an emotion before… but he couldn't distinguished any of it, so he could never be sure. I can't be in love, he reasoned, his trained instincts fighting against his thoughts. I'm not in love!
"There is nothing to fret," the old woman continued, noticing his strange reaction. "Love is natural and so is denial." She paused, her mind traveling elsewhere before a small laugh escaped her lips. "You know, you strangely in a way remind me of a man that came by earlier."
All at once, his confusion was lifted as his instincts took control. Darth Vader formed back over the stranger that had broke free, the confession of the woman immediately catching his interest and causing his goal to heighten within his mind, moving to the forefront and pushing all other thoughts away. "What man?"
"A man who was too lost and looking for someone," she answered simply. "Not a woman, of course, but an important soul." She paused looking up, her eyes glazing over as her old finger moved out and pointed towards his belt, motioning to his lightsaber hilt that hung at his waist. "A man that carried the same weapon."
The Jedi! Vader frowned, his anger erupting through his veins and the darkness moving closer to his soul. "He was here?" he pressed, moving forward and craving more information. "When?"
"Yesterday," she answered, her voice low and almost hesitant.
He hardly cared for her reaction, only caring for his own goal. "What did he want?" he growled, an unpleasant whisper within his mind, reminding him that Kenobi had come close to his past– too close.
She paused, her face breaking and for the first time showing fear as she shook her head wildly. "No," she cried, tears pouring from her eyes. "No. I do not want to speak of it. I do not want to remember."
She rose and he followed, reaching out and grabbing her arm tightly to stop her. "Tell me," he commanded, refusing to accept her rejection. "What did you tell him?"
She flinched at the pain, another loud wail escaping her lips. "I can't," she continued to cry, unable to fight his stronger grasp. "I can't."
Some part of him flinched in agony watching her struggle, but he was unable to let go– the part that hesitated too irrelevant to make the monster submit. The darkness pressed him on, urging him and reminding him of what he wanted. Reaching out to the Force, he held his gloved fingers to her skull and moved through her mind to find the memories he craved. He breathed a sigh of relief that he didn't know he had been holding when he came across the memory, the vision blurred from her age, but substantial enough to tell him that she told the Jedi nothing of true significance–at least not enough information for Kenobi to place the pieces together.
"Hey!" a man yelled, making his presence known as he approached the pair from behind. "Get away from my salve!"
Vader effortlessly dodged the man's grab, releasing Maggie as he turned to face the presence that had eluded his preoccupied senses. With an outstretched hand, the man fell forward because of Vader's quick movements; Vader briskly moving to the side while the man could do nothing but continue his plan of action, resulting in him ending on the ground with no one within his grasp.
Vader watched the scene partly amused although his exterior remained hard and bland. His fingers curled around his belt, his shoulders locking to his full height, unable to control his arrogance. "Killric," Vader said, recognizing the youngest son of the Bac Trev family immediately and watching as the young man fought to regain him strong appearance.
The man was pissed, but also visibly taken back, trying to comprehend the other man's quick movements that had resulted in his failure. It was obvious he hadn't seen it coming and Vader was too pleased to have caused the slave owner such a shock. Killric looked to Vader and back again, his face hardening upon hearing his name, his already fuming eyes locking onto Vader as the man pushed himself off the ground. "You many not be an Outlander," he snapped, still unable to full recover. "But you are still interfering with my profit."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Vader replied uncaringly. "I was merely here for information."
"You too?" Killric sighed, his anger instantly turning to annoyance as he shook his head and raised his hand toward the east. "Listen, as I told your friend, everything here is for a price. So why don't you join him in the grave yard and stop disrupting my–"
Vader grabbed his throat, his anger returning with a vengeance. "He is not my friend," Vader growled, nearing the excuse of a man and tightening his fingers in away that made bones audibly crack. The man choked in response, his own hands coming to rest upon Vader's as Maggie released a cry from behind them. Vader held him there for a long minute, staring at his face and taking in his words. The outrage Killric's mere presence caused was overwhelming and his sickening words only made it worse. Still, Vader found himself unable to tighten his grasp, simply deciding on throwing the man down to the ground with all his might. "You fear a loss of profit," Vader hissed as Killric's body collided with the harsh compacted sand. "You should fear me instead."
The man moaned in agony while the elder woman released another cry– two reactions that Vader paid no attention to. Instead, he stepped over the coward, not sparing either of the ghosts of his past a glance as he walked away. He turned towards the main path, knowing he knew the way to Kenobi's location, but found himself turning in the opposite direction.
He moved away from the graveyard at an alarming rate, moving as fast as his legs could carry him towards the direction of his shuttle. He craved nothing but to be free of this place– to fly away from this place and to never return. This place had him all tied up and acting too strangely for him to comprehend anything further– for him to act accordingly and correctly. He could never return to that graveyard and he could not meet the man here. Tatooine was a place for endings, not beginnings and he would not remember either. He would not relive a dead life that had begun on the wasteland of a planet and he would begin his new life with the same factor.
"Annie!" a woman yelled, catching his attention as he turned towards the voice, watching as the female wrapped her arms around her giggling daughter.
Ani.
His eyes widened and his heart dropped as he realized he had responded to the call, his head snapping back into position as he tried to press forward. "No," he whispered against himself, his hands tightening at his sides. "No."
Ani.
His thoughts and emotions became bricks upon his shoulders, making it impossible to walk. He was about to break– and he knew it. He looked around realizing that there was no one within sight, but was unable to take the chance. He used the Force to jump onto the nearest awning before pulling himself onto a rooftop. He collapsed on the top, breathing in deeply as he tried to clam his storming thoughts. He pushed back the hood, feeling the hot rays on his skin as he stared at the sky, silently cursing everything and everyone.
Force, he hated this heat– these suns– this place. Why had he been foolish enough to come here– to this city! Why had he not just listened to his master's demands? What was happening to him? Kenobi was enough to make his blood come to a boil, but his past had to reveal itself to open his wounds. Everything hurt and equally pissed him off… but then there was the other information that burned inside his chest.
He picked up a small piece of japor ivory wood that laid on the rooftop, twirling the small piece in his hand to mimic the thoughts twirling inside his mind. Love? He didn't know many emotions or what any of them felt like. He couldn't possibly know what love felt like, but it couldn't be what he shared with the senator? He was a Sith Lord, after all. He wasn't allowed to love. Love was forbidden. It was a useless emotion and he was sure there had to be a mistake.
Absently, he began carving into the piece, using a small blade from his belt, trying to preoccupy his energy while he tried to think. There were many things he admired about her, but there was an equal amount of things he despised about her too. She was gorgeous, but headstrong. She was proud, but doubtful. She was comforting, but annoying. He couldn't possibly care so greatly about a person that he hated fifty percent of the time. She would say the same. She hated him– like the enemies they were. The senator cared for him too, but he doubted that her affection were that to the level of 'love'. They merely had mutual respect for each other– a basic need and care, a connection and spark that had to be explainable.
Love is weakness. It couldn't be love. He couldn't love. He could not be loved. And he would never love. It wasn't possible. He was just stressed. He was just overthinking. Surely love didn't feel like this. It wouldn't drive anyone this deep into madness. He had seen others that were "supposedly" in love– a so-called normal emotion– and it didn't drive people to do things like this. Normal life forms could not deal with so much emotion such as this– people could not feel like this. He had years of training and could not deal with such an overload. If he could not handle it, then no mere life form could. Whatever he was feeling could not be just a basic emotion. It could not be love… but was it?
A ring echoed from his belt, pulling him from his thoughts as he pocketed the piece of wood before he calling the device into his hand.
"Vader," he said, answering the call and trying to sound as much like his commanding-self as possible.
"Lord Vader," his officer responded. "Commander Thomas, sir."
Vader shook his head, taking a deep breath to regain him. "Commander," he acknowledged, knowing the officer should have conducted his search and had results concerning the Rebellion. "I trust you have received your results?"
The men hesitated on the other side, a strange mumble leaving his lips before he released a large gasp. "I'm afraid," he said, his voice barely above a frightened and regrettable whisper. "We have hit a small dilemma, my lord."
Vader frowned, his teeth grinding inside his mouth, waiting for more information. "How so?"
'We are pulling our troops out," the officer admitted after a moment of delay. "The humans squadrons have taken control. General Tarkin is now in command."
An eruption of anger surged through him, the disgraceful words hitting his ears and his reaction nearly shaking the very building his stood upon. "What?" he snapped, glaring at the device within his hand as he rose from the ground of the building. "Tarkin doesn't have that kind of–"
"The command was from the Emperor himself."
It was yet another unexpected comment, one that was so powerful that Vader himself couldn't even find words – or thoughts– or emotions.
"I do apologize, Lord Vader," his officer continued, taking advantage of the silence. "And I say that apology with the understanding that you do not approve of them." He paused, obviously shaken himself as he tried to find the correct words. "I'm in quite of state of bafflement myself…" he admitted slowly. "In my experience, if I may say so, this sort of move is a strange act of mutiny. It doesn't make sense and from my scans… the Rebel Base is still on the planet."
Vader's admiration for his officer suddenly grew, an event that did not happen often. "Did you inform the Emperor of this finding?" he asked, his mind beginning to take in the information and spin its own plan.
"Except for the other officers and troopers that helped conduct the study. I didn't inform anyone, Lord Vader," he answered respectfully, taking a long pause before adding. "I thought it best to inform my Commander first."
"Good," Vader replied. "Will the others stay silent?"
"Faithful to our Commander, milord."
Vader nearly smiled, taking in his troop's commitment and loyalty to their true commander. "Where is the fleet now?"
"Gathering outside Cato Neimoidia," Thomas replied. "The last of the troops are boarding the final ship, then all of your main fleet for this mission will be regrouped."
"Good," Vader said, finally forming a plan and making his decision. "Send a report of that. Have the fleet wait for my command. Gather whatever personnel handled the task. Meet me on Felucia. Our meeting will be off record."
"Of course, my Lord," the officer agreed without question. "When shall we disembark?"
"I will leave Tatooine immediately," Vader replied, walking towards the edge of the rooftop. "When the fleet is regrouped, do the same. I expect you on Felucia by tomorrow night."
"Yes, Lord Vader."
Vader growled as he snapped the device onto his belt. Taking one more moment to look out over the sand civilization– at the place he once called home. It was filled with too many scars, pain, and history for him to ever return or stay. Kenobi might be out there, but Vader would have to wait until the Jedi came to him. It was a disturbing fact, but not at all disturbing as his "could-be" feelings… and those not as disturbing as the situation that had just arose.
What was that old man up to?
Author's Note: Uh-Oh. What's happening? I don't know, but I do. Anyways, hope you enjoyed. Next chapter is probably my favorite progression chapter, finally! No going back now! Thank you as always and much love to you all. Review, please!
PS: Happy Star Wars Day! May the 4th be with you!