Wow! Thank you all so much for the follows and positive feedback. I do hope I can live up to your expectations. I would first like to mention an important change made to the film for this chapter: Vader is suited, but does not have/need a respirator. Part of it will be explained here and the rest will be explained later in the story. Happy reading!

10 years later…

Vader paced back and forth on the bridge as he often did when he was frustrated. He hadn't apprehended any rebels in almost two weeks. The Emperor was likely beginning to assume that he had gotten lazy, which would mean punishment. Vader no longer screamed during the bursts of Force lightning that would course through his body, but the pain was still unbearable.

He heard footsteps approaching from behind- his loyal Admiral, Firmus Piett. If Vader was allowed to like people, he might actually like Piett. Today, he sensed that Piett was not at all nervous to be in his presence, but almost a bit excited. Vader turned to face him and looked down, as the black suit he adorned added a bit to his already monstrous height.

"My Lord," Piett announced, "I am pleased to inform you that we have intercepted a communication between two rebels. It seems that a man from Alderaan was sending along construction plans for a future rebel base to a woman on Naboo. The location of this base was not stated during their conversation, but we were able to trace the exact locations of both rebels."

"Excellent," Vader responded. "I expect them on this ship and detained for questioning by tomorrow afternoon."

"Yes, my Lord," Piett replied, before hurrying off to perform his assigned task with a slight nod of his head.

Vader halted his pacing and headed back to his quarters. None of his Stormtroopers did so much as move a limb when Vader walked by- they never knew what mood he was in. Vader liked it this way. Fear produced a loyal staff.

Although Vader appreciated Piett always coming to him for permission, he wondered why the oaf doesn't just perform simple tasks such as this and present him with the results. The conversation was the same every time: if you find rebels, bring them here. Not that difficult.

Vader quickly removed his mask and helmet after locking the door. Sometimes the suit was suffocating, but it was necessary. The Emperor had suggested it when Vader first revealed himself to the public a couple years ago- he thought that "the man behind the mask" would be more intimidating. Vader hated to admit that he was right.

But sometimes the suit was a comfort to him. He hated undressing and looking in the mirror. His right arm and the lower half of his right leg were mechanical- all machine with nothing left of the man he once was. The upper half of that leg, parts of his torso and back, and worst of all, the right half of his face, were covered in burn scars that would never fade. The hair on that side of his head had only grown back as tiny blonde wisps, though the incident that led to his gruesome appearance was far in the past.

He would kill his Master for it someday. Vader would plan the murder strategically so that he would not fail. He would become ruler of the galaxy and do things his way. He just needed to wait for the proper timing.


Padmé sat impatiently in the corner of her cell- a small unit with four shiny, thick grey walls, one of which was an impenetrable sliding door. She knew the cells surrounding hers were probably filled with more of what the man in the white suit who captured her referred to as "rebel scum". She dearly hoped that one of them was not designated for her friend, Bail Organa, with whom she had spoken just a few hours earlier.

Her arrest had been quick. A Stormtrooper barged into her lake house on Naboo, stunned her handmaidens, and knocked her out. Having detached herself from politics, Padmé had assumed she'd be safe there without guards. She thought her participation with the Rebel Alliance had been discreet- she never attended any off-planet meetings and only engaged in communications with her closest companions.

What could the Empire possibly have to use against me?

Padmé could only hope that her death would be swift, though she knew this to be unlikely. Very few rebels had survived the interrogation process and those who did and managed to earn their freedom had been tortured into joining the Empire. Padmé would rather die than fight for the enemy.

To pass the minutes, which might very well be her last, she thought back to better times. She was Queen of Naboo and Palpatine was just Palpatine, not the Sith Lord he later revealed himself to be. The Jedi were free to practice their art and help maintain peace in the galaxy. She remembered the first time she met Obi-Wan Kenobi, and wondered how he was doing, hiding out on Tatooine. Obi-Wan and Yoda were the only Jedi left in the galaxy, and only one could attend each Rebel Alliance meeting, so she had only seen him a couple times since the fall of the Republic. It would be too dangerous to have both of them in one place should their location be compromised.

Padmé remembered her own experience on Tatooine meeting little Anakin Skywalker. He was determined to become a Jedi himself. Most of the galaxy assumed him to be dead when he didn't turn up after a few years. The ship that had taken him was never found. The identity of his kidnapper was never determined.

Padmé didn't know why, but she felt a strong connection to the boy. She was there when Master Yoda and Obi-Wan informed his mother. Padmé had clutched the Japor snippet he'd made for her, watching as his mother cried. There was anger- the people who had taken her son away to a better life had led him to death. But most of all there was fear. There was fear that he could still be alive and in much worse hands than the Hutts or Watto.

Padmé grabbed hold of that very necklace now. She had begun to think of it as her good luck charm and had worn it every day for the past ten years…except one day. Empire Day. The day Darth Vader appeared on Coruscant. Even though she knew it was her own superstition, she believed that not wearing the Japor snippet that day had somehow contributed to the events. It was as if Anakin Skywalker decided the fate of the galaxy and she had masked his presence.

Vader had slaughtered Jedi younglings and Knights and Masters like animals while the Emperor revealed himself and took down the Senate. Stormtroopers roamed the streets, shooting civilians who dared to question the new government. Padmé was lucky to escape- many of her political companions were left behind, their fates either embracing the Empire or death.

She suddenly heard heavy stomps getting closer and closer, interrupting her dark reverie.

This is it- he's coming for me.

When the door slid open to reveal the man in the black suit himself, Padmé tensed, but he did nothing…just stared at her. He stared for what felt to her like hours, but was really only seconds.

When Vader shifted his weight, Padmé flinched, anticipating whatever pain was about to be directed toward her, but none came.

"Excuse me," he said, and, turning to walk away, the door slid shut behind him.


It was her. It was actually her.

Vader stomped past the cells and through the corridors, trying to make sense of his racing thoughts.

"Are you alright, my Lord?" asked Piett as he passed one of the control rooms.

"Not now, Piett!" Vader shouted back.

He continued to move, pacing through the maze of corridors.

He couldn't believe she was here. His angel. No- Anakin Skywalker's angel. Vader cursed himself for this moment of weakness and the walls around him shook.

He stopped to lean against a wall. "Leave me!" he shouted at two nearby troopers, who immediately abandoned their posts.

So Padmé was a rebel. That much didn't surprise him. She was very strong-willed and democratic when he'd met her all those years ago.

But that's all she should be- another rebel to torture or turn. Vader was no longer Anakin. The boy who had felt an attachment to this woman was gone.

But her eyes. Those brief seconds he had stared into those chocolate eyes that held so much fear toward him, yet so much strength, but mostly buckets of animosity.

His angel hated him.

No, stop. It was years ago. She probably doesn't even remember me.

"I AM DARTH VADER!" Vader screamed aloud, slamming his fists into the wall behind him, leaving significant dents. He had not thought of Anakin, the boy who lived before him, in a long time. The sudden mental conflict was too much to bear.

Vader took a deep breath. "I am Darth Vader," he repeated in a lower voice. Straightening up, he turned on his heels and slowly made his way back to the cells.