After reading chancecraz's POV piece on Vader, I couldn't get this old ficlet out of my head. It was an idea I had for a longer story set in a parallel universe in which Leia's true parentage had been discovered when she was a child. The story would be told from Han's, Leia's and Vader's points of view.

Not sure any of us are into dark Leia, but I can assure you this would be a story of self-discovery and redemption for all involved. And you better believe Vader wouldn't sit on his mechanical arse like the Emperor wants him too...

He noticed her the minute he walked in the cantina. It wasn't her delicate beauty that drew his gaze, it was something in the air around her. A sense of power.

Han had been around a lot of powerful creatures in his time - warlords, gangsters, errant royals. He knew the way they commanded your attention, caught you in your lies, sent a shiver of something up your spine.

So, when he saw her he decided to steer clear. Didn't matter how young she looked, how alone. Didn't matter that his eyes kept circling back to her inspite of himself. He was a free man once again - now that he'd paid the Hutt off with the old man's borrowed money - and he wasn't going to mess it up.

[Over there,] Chewie murmured, tipping his massive head toward a group of Yuzzums. Han thought he recognized one or two them from past dealings, but they were always hard to distinguish. Each of them was the same four foot tall ball of fuzz with wide orange eyes and big, loud mouths.

Han sighed. They always had jobs, and they paid decently. Never stiffed you.

The girl now had a drink in front of her. She fondled the handle of the ale stein as if contemplating the beer's existence. Her hands were dainty, graceful in a way he rarely saw, and for a flick he wondered why he'd been put off. Then she looked up.

Heart pounding, he turned back to the bar.

There was no doubt about it, that girl was trouble. Her eyes were wide, almost doe-like, but there was a depth to them that Han never saw. All the things he'd already felt tripled when she'd caught him staring. So why'd he want to turn back?

Chewie bumped his shoulder and let out an impatient harrrumph.

The Yuzzums were in animated conversation with Balerro, a slimy berk who called himself a smuggler from the Tamerin sector.

[What are you waiting for?] Chewie said.

Han knew they could outmaneuver Ballerro. He could underbid the guy then skim a little off the top. The Yuzzums never bothered to count their wares. He'd probably get another few runs out of it too - there were always more of the little buggers. They popped up like daisies.

Chewie made a move toward the group.

Han put a hand out to stop him.

"Hold up, buddy," he murmured. Chewie looked at him quizzically then shrugged before stepping back up to the bar. They weren't flush by any means, but they had a little bit of leeway now. They weren't as desperate as they'd been before they'd hooked up with that old monk and his pup.

[You want to wait for a bigger fish?] Chewie said after a gulp of whiskey.

Han caught himself before he looked again.

"Yeah," Han grumbled, voice deeper than normal. He felt like a string on a guitar after a tight strum, every never vibrated with an intensity both alluring and uncomfortable.

[Just remember, that's what got us mixed up with Jabba.]

Right. The problem was Han liked power. Power meant money. Money meant freedom. It was that simple. Even when he tried to play it safe, to rein himself in, he always went for the gamble, the move with the highest stakes. There was that hope he couldn't quash, that niggling belief in his own goodness. The thought that one day he might hit the jackpot.

"The girl in the booth," his mouth moved even as his mind ground to a halt.

[What girl?]

Chewie was looking right at where Han knew she'd be. His stomach did a strange flip as he glanced over his shoulder, already knowing what he wouldn't find.

She was gone.

Leia was bored. Horribly, utterly bored.

None of these creatures knew anything.

She'd been sitting in this sticky booth for almost an hour, scanning the minds of those around her. They were full of thoughts, mostly violent, avaricious or sexual in nature, but nothing she could use. She'd told herself she wouldn't indulge; she had to keep her mind sharp. But, when the crusty Aqualish asked her for the fifteenth time if she wanted anything, she broke down and ordered a beer.

Had to keep up appearances after all.

She thought she'd enjoy this more. After all, it wasn't often that the daughter of Lord Vader had the chance to venture into the real galaxy. There'd been a time, in her earlier teens when she had desperately wanted that chance. It had consumed her, the idea of a normal life.

Her lip curled as she felt the Aqualish's intention to cut her beer with dishwater.

The truth was the real galaxy was so predictable.

Her father had tried to tell her. But Leia had had to see it for herself. They were all just hands in a grasping, selfish hoard. The magic she'd dreamed of as a child was nothing but a fantasy.

A slight tingle alerted Leia to a new presence. Years of focused study, of frustrating solitude, had honed her senses to a knife point. Currently, there were five creatures looking at her. A moment ago there had been four. This gaze was different.

It took surprising effort not to seek out its owner. Leia was curious by nature. She always wanted to know more, to be better, to have the upper hand. It had taken quite a few force lightening shocks to rid her of that impulse. But, she was grateful for those lessons now. After a few creeping flicks, the stranger's gaze disappeared and Leia could finally satisfy herself.

At first glance, Leia blinked. She'd never seen a Wookie in person. She'd heard about the disgusting breed. She'd been a target of her father's rage after a huge shipment of them had been stolen. A flash of cold fury stole through her at the memory.

It changed temperatures when she saw the man.

"Corellian Ale for the lady," the Aqualish waiter simpered.

She could feel the waiter's smugness, and slight sense of arousal. She wanted to bat him away like a fly or, better yet, lacerate his insides just a bit, but instead she smiled her thanks. The only thing that interested her in this moment was looking at the man.

"Little thing like you shouldn't be at a place like this." Leia regretted the smile instantly. She hated small talk.

"I can take care of myself," she deadpanned.

"I'm sure you can take care of something," it simpered.

She lost patience and stared into its beady eyes. "Leave me," and before he complied she added, "And quit your job."

The waiter followed her orders, and finally Leia could focus again.

The man was turned completely away now. All she could see was a tumble of golden brown hair topping his tall form. The hair fascinated her. No man she'd ever known wore his hair that way. Imperials were all closely cropped and neatly capped by helmets or hats. He wasn't in uniform either. His shirt looked somewhere between threadbare and worn in, most of it covered by a ridiculous looking vest. Really the outfit was embarrassing.

She frowned and looked down at her beer. He was about to look at her again.

Why did that thrill her?

Nothing thrilled Leia. She was calculating, cold. She didn't care about anything beyond the Force. It wasn't her father's approval she sought. It wasn't his affection. It was advancing on the path, getting closer to the freedom that she craved. She wasn't sure what she wanted to be free of, but she wanted it desperately.

He was looking at her hands, and Leia swallowed as she felt them shake just a bit.

This was absurd.

She wouldn't stand for it. Gathering the darkness around her - it was plentiful here - she caught his gaze. For a flick, they stared at each other. His light eyes didn't blink, even as she revealed herself to him.

She knew he'd look away. She knew he'd fold the way they all did. No one could beat Leia in a staring contest.

But she was a little sorry when he didn't.

Without touching the beer, Leia rose from the table. This was a bust. She wasn't sure what her next move would be, but it was time she made one. For a moment, she felt a shimmer of self-doubt. She'd been so sure of this course of action, so certain that she could prove herself.

Leia straightened her spine as she strode toward the door. She was the daughter of Darth Vader, the prodigy of the Emperor. Whatever course she set her mind to she could achieve.

Without meaning to, she glanced at him one more time. What would it hurt to take a peek?

Ignoring the strange tightness in her chest, Leia extended her force sense. He was nervous, annoyed, questioning himself. Flashes of the inside of a ship, shady dealings with little brown animals. She was about to pull away already bored and slightly disappointed by his mundanity.

"We can pay you two thousand now plus fifteen when we reach Alderaan."

Leia stopped in her tracks, disbelief pulling her out of her vision, dropping her back to the present. With uncharacteristic clumsiness she dove back into the spacer's head.

She wanted to see Obi-Wan again. She wanted a look at that boy. But all she got were disjointed images of a ship flying, of a sabacc game, of a little boy wailing in grief and loneliness.

And then her, reflected back by the mirror of his mind. She looked as frightening as she thought. But also sad. Why would she be—?

Leia pulled out before she could complete that thought.

Everything made sense now. She'd been drawn to this man because, as always, the Force had been her guide. She quelled the slight sense of ennui that gripped her. For a flick, she'd thought perhaps…but no, she was a tool of the Force. A sharpened blade ready to strike.

She smiled, willing it to reach her eyes, and made her way towards the man.

He had no idea what was about to hit him.

"She is gone."

Darth Vader's voice rang hollow and metallic through the Emperor's chamber.

His master made a quiet noise in the back of his throat, the kind of sound he'd made when Leia had been a small child prone to speaking out of turn. Vader knew she had grown to fear that sound more than anything.

"How curious," The Emperor said, as if he was meditating on the newest starship model rather than the disappearance of the Heir.

Vader felt a phantom surge through his chest. When he was fully human, such heat would have traveled through his limbs, making his hands tingle with power and his feet pound the floor. Anger, hot, powerful, unstoppable. But, now, it only burned for a flick before his machinery smothered it out.

Still, the Emperor quirked his head, causing his heavy hood to sway.

"You are unsettled."

Vader only stood there, letting his ventilator breath for him. This was the problem with Leia.

"She makes us vulnerable, master."

The emperor's lips curled up into a sneer, his voice narrowing to an arrow point.

"She makes you vulnerable, my apprentice."

Darth Vader lowered his head, not attempting to deny it. Fifteen years had only proven the Emperor's assertion right time and time again. The heat he had quashed now squirmed under his hold like a bird caught in a net. Try as he might his focus kept flying from the room, searching, searching for his little—

"You won't find her," the Emperor chided. "She is my pupil. Her mind is open only to me."

The Sith Lord's focus snapped back to the cavernous room. He strangled the bird and stiffened his shoulders.

"What will you have me do, master?"

"Let her be. For now," the Emperor's voice took on a melodic quality, almost like a lullaby, "She will lead us to the chink in the rebellion's armor. And then her training will be complete."

Vader hated the relief he felt at the Emperor's words.

"Thank you, my master."

The Emperor stared at him for a moment, allowing Vader to feel his censure.

"Be careful, my apprentice. This is the time for you to prove yourself as well."

With that, he turned away from the Sith Lord, ostensibly staring out into the starry sky, more likely staring into the distant reaches of the Force.

Seeing her?

Vader ground his heel into the walkway as he passed the red-cloaked figures who so reminded him of the stories of the seven hells he'd grown up with. They were never happy tales, but they'd thrilled him as a little boy. He cringed under his mask as he entered the elevator, shooting into the bowls of the castle.

He could see her little face pale in the moonlight, facing up at him while she slept. So like her mother. He didn't speak to her during the day. The Emperor had forbade it and he had agreed. But, these nights. Shame was not something the suit felt, but it crawled up his throat nonetheless. She shook her head and murmured a bit, reaching out a tiny hand to grasp at the air. As always, he battled with himself before allowing her to latch onto his gloved hand.

The ventilator had been a worry. It was not something he could do without. And it echoed through the tiny space. But, she never woke. Whether it was the sheer exhaustion from her vigorous days of training or whether it was just something she'd gotten used to, he would never know. Though in some secret part of him, he held the knowledge as a sort of sacred thing.

"Where did we leave off?" he would ask into the night, hating himself just a little bit more.

"When the Jedi Norwiney descended into the fifth level, he found not fire, nor ice, but a garden of the purest delight. The flowers were five metims tall, the plants were like skyscrapers. He suddenly felt so oddly at home, forgetting almost immediately that he was in hell at all…"