Laura-chan: (hands tissue) Thanks for reading!
DarthGladiator45: Thanks for reading...for a warning, it may get angstier in later chapters!;-)
Shadow131: Aww, thanks. Glad you liked it!
AMAPADME: Thanks! I appreciate your compliments!
He'd let his guard down that night, the night he'd re-discovered the small chest, the night he'd looked at her holo again. He'd tried so hard to erase her, and anything to do with her from his memory, but, regardless, it had all come flooding back.
Again, he had felt the rage, anger, grief and even fear at losing her. The years had only served to sharpen the emotions, to give them an edge that sank into his heart even deeper.
Vader didn't leave his chambers for nearly five days. The door remained tightly sealed, leaving any passers by completely oblivious to the agony of the man beyond it.
For nearly five days, he imprisoned himself inside, recovering. The sudden attack on his heart had left a strange feeling within him.
Each day, he would stare at the viewport, waiting for the eerie starlight to shine in again, to illuminate the durasteel chest as it had that night. It never happened.
Slowly, Vader came to wonder if it had been a sign. Yes, yes it must have been. It had to have been!
He slept little, but when he did it was filled with dreams of her. To anyone else, it would have seemed terrible, their love haunting them in their most vulnerable hour. But Vader welcomed it. He relished even the smallest glimpse of her, the lightest touch against her soft skin, or the faintest aroma of her sweet scent.
By the fifth day, he was convinced. It had been a sign.
When he finally left his chambers, he did so with a strange determination.
His boots touched against the durasteel with a heavy thud as he took each step. It felt as though the joints of his mechanical legs had been frozen, preventing him from moving. But he knew, somehow, that it was just his own impatience.
He was eager, anxious, desperate even. The longer he remained aboard the Executor, the more his anxiety grew.
The officers didn't look up from their stations as he passed. Their awe, fear and nervousness were plain through the Force. Another day, he might have laughed at them, enjoying the effect he had, but today he couldn't have cared less.
He halted abruptly at the workstation of Recen Torles, a small, wiry young man of perhaps twenty eight standard years. "Follow me, Ensign."
"S-sir? I'm supposed to stay with m-my station…" The young man's fear at being addressed by Vader, and being instructed to accompany him was clear.
"Follow me, Ensign." Vader repeated. He paused slightly before adding, in a lower tone, "There is no time for hesitation."
He turned on his heel, cape snapping behind him. Ensign Torles followed, trembling.
By the time they'd reach the lower levels of the Executor, Vader's pace had quickened exceptionally. And still, he could not seem to be going fast enough.
Recen was practically running, doing his best to keep up.
They reached the hangar bay, and Vader stopped, abruptly. Had Recen not grabbed for a nearby crate at the last moment, he would have collided with him. He was thankful he'd avoided the mishap; sweat was already forming on his brow from just being in Vader's company.
Raising a gloved hand, Vader indicated a Lambda-class shuttle on the far side of the hangar. "Prep her, and then wait. I will return within half of a standard hour."
Recen nodded. He couldn't hide his relief that he was only to prep a shuttle for him. That was something he could do. After all, his job aboard the Executor was to work with machinery. Not to mention, he would be alone to prep the ship. No Vader.
Ensign Torles was a very fearful young man. His greatest dream was to join the Rebel Alliance, to be reunited with his friends and family-or at least what was left of them. He knew Tej and Reia were still out there, and that they'd joined the Rebellion. He was afraid for them, and a bit envious that they'd had the courage to do what he could not.
His own fear of the Empire still held him aboard the Executor, repairing droids.
Footsteps clanked nearby. The twitching returned to Recen's left eye. Vader was returning.
He searched his thoughts for something to calm him; the attempt was futile. He hardly dared to look, and settled for a quick glance out of the corner of his eye.
Vader was carrying something. It was small, swaddled in black cloth and clutched tightly in his arms. He rushed past Recen without a word, disappearing from sight into the other end of the shuttle.
Not long after, he returned to the cockpit where he'd instructed Recen to wait and seated himself in the pilot's seat.
"Strap in." He commanded.
"We're leaving, sir?" Recen asked, mortified. He stood with wide eyes, fear paralyzing him. A strange pressure formed at the base of his skull, and he found himself sitting down just few seconds later.
Hardly ten standard minutes later were they in hyperspace.
Recen couldn't look at the man…if you could call him a man, beside him. He was too afraid.
Perhaps forty standard minutes crept by in lingering silence.
Recen stared out at the frenzied colors of hyperspace. He had no clues to their destination, or what may await him at the end of the journey. He had no clue why he, of all people had been chosen to accompany Vader. He had no clue what use he could be. But he did know that he wanted more than anything to be far away from that shuttle, and far, far away from Darth Vader.
