Hm, I've come to the realization that my story is starting to mirror AotC: Plot starts on Coruscant with all characters, Ani and Padmé go to Naboo together, Obi (and friends!) goes on his own little quest and investigation, etc... well, yeah, then there's Tarkin. Lol. Hopefully my dialogue isn't as terrifying as the romance dialogue from that movie, though. I love the prequels, but by heaven was that romance dialogue cringe worthy sometimes...

Anyway, here's another very long chapter. These keep getting longer, lol; I had to cut it off before it got too crazy.

It wasn't very often that Tarkin graced the interrogation rooms with his presence. First off, there were those who had training tailored just to the art of breaking people; the Empire was known for getting answers from its prisoners. Secondly, he preferred not to dirty his hands. He had more important matters to attend to, and was only interested in the results, anyway.

But in this instance, he made an exception.

Mon Mothma sat stiffly, her face bleeding from a previous blow. An interrogation droid hovered in the corner, its drug contents depleted. The former senator was deathly pale, but she hadn't spoken anything of interest to Tarkin the entire time. They had been questioning her for two hours, and all she had ever responded was that she was innocent of all accusations.

Tarkin felt his reserved emotions slip; his calm and callous demeanor cracked just enough. He backhanded the woman harshly. "Where is the Rebel base?!"

"You have the wrong person," Mothma replied in a soft tone, her voice weak after screaming from an earlier interrogation method. "I'm a loyal citizen of the Empire."

"Just as Senator Amidala is?" Tarkin probed to test her reaction. Mothma barely flinched; it was enough of an indication to confirm that Amidala was most likely in league with the Alliance… but Tarkin already knew this.

This woman was too stubborn. Intimidation would not work, drugs would not work, torture would not work – the professionals were failing at their jobs. They needed to do more.

This required a Sith's expertise.

Blowing out a frustrated sigh, Tarkin waved off the interrogator and the droid. "Enough for now. Be sure she doesn't eat, but don't let her die just yet."

"Yes, sir," the interrogator replied with a curt nod.

Tarkin left the prison rattled. He did at least have Mothma in custody, and everyone knew she was a traitor; that much was not in question. However, he had failed (more like Ozzel had failed) to destroy the main Rebel base, and he could no longer hide this failure from the emperor. He began to deliberate the possible outcomes of this encounter, and none of them were good. Palpatine might have him killed for incompetency (not that this was his fault), or he could have him demoted in some manner.

Things would be much more manageable if Vader was in charge of the military as was his duty. Tarkin was on his last nerve, and this operation would be going much more smoothly if the Sith Lord were aiding him. He wasn't incapable of handling difficult situations without help, but blast it, Tarkin also never had to juggle the entire military alongside his other duties. There was a reason militaries this big were divided between many high ranking officials, not just one. How in the blazes did Vader manage without losing his mind?

Tarkin let out a bitter laugh. As if the boy had a sane mind in the first place.

Reaching the palace, Tarkin hastened to his quarters so he could organize his thoughts and information for the briefing to come. He contacted an aide, ordering her to request an audience with the emperor, and then he sat and brooded over everything he knew… or, to be frank, what little he knew.

Well, here's what he did know: Mon Mothma was a traitor, but was a worthless informant. The Rebel base had been on Yavin 4, and they had literally just missed them. Judging from the fact that the scum had two bases, their numbers had grown exponentially. Senator Amidala was their best lead to find the base since Mothma was of no use.

And that was it.

The conclusions were obvious, then. Darth Vader was needed, and he could either interrogate or just kill Mothma. While he was at it, he could bring Amidala in since she was with him. Tarkin would then have control of the situation once more; he'd much rather have Vader under his own thumb than under Palpatine's. The one time the emperor had allowed Tarkin to borrow Vader for an assignment, it had been the most satisfactory experience in his life. He hadn't had to worry about anything at all; the boy was efficient, quick, and obedient.

Sighing, Tarkin checked his appearance in the mirror as he prepared for his audience with the emperor. The aide returned just in time, saying Palpatine was ready to see him. Nodding, Tarkin walked to the throne room. The Red Guard allowed him through, and he went down on one knee before the throne as the doors closed behind him.

"Report." Palpatine immediately ordered.

Tarkin spoke quickly, repeating everything he had just reviewed. He refrained from giving his own conclusions until asked, however; he was the failure in Palpatine's eyes at the moment, and so he had no right to be making suggestions on how to proceed.

"So the Rebels are still at large, and their numbers are greater than we could have ever expected." Palpatine surmised, entwining his fingers slowly. He leaned back in his seat, his face hidden under his trademark hood. Tarkin's hand on his knee stiffened into a grip that clawed at his trousers. It was judgment time.

"I was expecting the Alliance to be in pieces by now," Palpatine said quietly. Tarkin shuddered as he felt the room grow colder. "Why is this not the case?"

Tarkin took a steadying breath. "I informed the nearest fleet as soon as the knowledge came to me, Your Imperial Majesty. It… appears that we got the information too late."

"Your destruction of the base on Dantooine seems to have been a miscalculation, then," Palpatine deduced, and the room grew even colder. Tarkin felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as if static were all around him.

Despite his fear of possibly being electrocuted (or perhaps because of it), Tarkin attempted to plead his case. "Your Majesty, if I had not attacked at Dantooine, we would have had no information at all. They were getting ready to leave – that was the only reason I gave the order. I had to seize the opportunity. The Intel we gained from the attack has more than made up for the rashness, sire. We wouldn't have known about Yavin or the size of the Alliance if not for it."

"Did you obtain any information as to safe locations? Recruitment areas? Supplies? Communications?"

"Intelligence has cracked several communications codes, sire, but the Alliance has already changed them. If they knew of the attack on Dantooine—"

"Then all the information you supposedly gained is useless," Palpatine interrupted, his voice growing tight with annoyance. "Anything you obtained has immediately become obsolete."

"But not the information on their numbers, sire," Tarkin argued. "And that is a gain for us; we had no idea they had gotten this out of control. And if I may say, sire, this did not all happen under my watch."

He attempted to phrase that last sentence as delicately as he could without losing the scathing meaning. His stomach still churned, though, both at his brashness and at who he was accusing. He had just pondered earlier how it was impossible for one person to handle the entire military considering all that was going on, and now he was placing the blame on Vader as if he expected him to do the impossible.

Well, to be honest, that was Vader's specialty. The boy always excelled when he was told he wouldn't be able to handle the situation. Although the young Sith Lord never claimed to have any likes or dislikes, Tarkin could tell that he always eagerly proving people wrong when it came to his ability. Whether this was because he was defiant, daring, rash, or anything else was beyond him, though… if he was even aware such emotions existed within himself.

Palpatine was silent for a long time, considering Tarkin's words. The governor held his breath as the emperor debated the matter. Eventually, Palpatine said, "Keep Mothma under strict surveillance. Don't let her die just yet; keep her at the precipice. Make her wonder whether she is even alive or not. Leave her to her own thoughts. Lord Vader will interrogate her upon his return."

Did that mean—was it actually going to happen—was Palpatine going to recall Vader?

"Contact Lord Vader and inform him of the situation," Palpatine continued. "Advise him that his mission is now paramount."

Wait, what?

Tarkin had already pushed his luck today, so he wasn't going to argue, but he felt his chest tighten as he grew steadily angrier with the circumstances. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Tarkin rose to his feet and then bowed deeply, backing out of the room. As soon as the throne room's doors closed, he stormed to his quarters, muttering curses under his breath.

This was preposterous. After everything that had happened, Palpatine still wouldn't lend Vader to Tarkin's mission? Honestly Tarkin should feel extremely grateful he hadn't been punished, but he knew he was walking on the blade's edge now – one more mistake and it would be the end of him.

Once he reached his quarters, Tarkin snatched his comlink, squeezing it, before throwing it down once more. No, he'd call from his desk; the holoprojector would allow for a more face-to-face discussion.

Keying in the correct frequency, Tarkin took a step from his desk and clasped his hands in front of him, squeezing until his knuckles popped. He wasn't even sure where he'd start from this point; Mothma was now untouchable until Vader's return, and he had very little information to go on. As Palpatine had astutely pointed out, all the information they had obtained was now obsolete.

Well, almost all of it. There was no way they could warn everyone in time. They might be able to track distant operatives and suppliers. Perhaps Vader knew of a few as well; he hadn't told anybody about the operatives on Naboo, after all, until he had eliminated them.

The holo communicator continued its attempt to reach Vader, making Tarkin wonder if the young Sith Lord would even answer. Checking his chronometer, he noted that it would be roughly 21:30 at the coordinates Vader had provided. The man would certainly still be awake.

Finally, he heard a distinct click and the holoprojector came to life, forming Darth Vader. The young Sith Lord bowed. Tarkin examined him briefly. He was dressed as usual: a black tunic, trousers, cloak, and a dark brown belt. His expression was, as far as Tarkin could tell over the holo, alert.

"There's been a situation here, milord." Tarkin explained. Vader listened attentively. "The senator of the Bormea Sector, Mon Mothma, has been arrested for treason. She is currently being held prisoner in our high security facility. Interrogations have yielded little, so you will be in charge of breaking her upon your return at the end of the recess. This also means that Senator Amidala is now our central lead; you must get information out of her."

"You want the location of the Rebel base." Vader surmised.

"I want everything," Tarkin replied. "As does the emperor."

"Have my mission parameters changed, then?"

Tarkin paused. Should he lie and tell Vader that the parameters had changed? Should he tell him that he had to get the information at all costs by any means necessary? He certainly wanted to say such a thing, but he was in enough hot water as it was; if Palpatine found out that he had manipulated Vader so obviously… but then again, if Vader broke her, Tarkin could just convince Palpatine that there was no other option. At this point it was the logical approach. Still, Palpatine's logic didn't quite fit with Tarkin's, and if he was adamant that Vader continue as ordered, then there was some puzzle piece that Tarkin was missing… one that he really needed to figure out.

Come to think of it, that was becoming Tarkin's priority now.

"No," Tarkin finally answered. "The mission still stands. Just understand that the fate of the Rebel Alliance and the Empire rests in the results."

Vader bowed his head in acknowledgement. For having such a heavy burden placed on him, he looked completely calm… but that was expected. Interestingly, though, Vader didn't immediately cut the channel. That typically indicated that he had something to say or ask and wasn't quite sure how to do so. Tarkin had learned to read his little subtle communications over the years, and this was one of his most obvious.

"Is there a problem, milord?" Tarkin asked, folding his arms.

Vader sighed, lowering his eyes. "I recall your advice: share the senator's likes and dislikes. Be more open. But I don't understand how that will help. The senator said today that I was unlikable."

Tarkin raised an eyebrow. "How did you merit that sort of response? As I remember, she was the one who invited you."

Vader's eyes shot to Tarkin's immediately; this was what was bothering him. "Yes, she did. I don't understand her, governor. How can I get her to like me when I can't understand her?"

Tarkin smirked, leaning back on his heels. "She's a woman, milord. I never said they make any sense."

Vader stared at him, not catching the joke. Tarkin sighed.

"Women are… more difficult to comprehend," Tarkin said honestly. "At least depending upon the woman. Intelligent women are difficult to comprehend because they want to keep you guessing. Others… are just too stupid to bother with. I don't think Amidala is the latter; you'll just have to work at it. Follow my previous advice and things should improve."

"Share her likes and dislikes," Vader muttered, looking away, lost in thought.

"That includes more than just hobbies, milord," Tarkin noted. "That includes ideals, political values, ethics. What have you done so far?"

"I planted some thoughts for later discussion," Vader replied. "I implied that I act differently when away from Imperial Center. It might make it seem like the emperor is manipulating me, and I'm trying to get away from it."

His statement was couched in so much truth it felt like a punch to the gut. Yes, Palpatine was manipulating him. Vader's lack of emotion in his sentence almost made Tarkin laugh; did the boy truly not realize this, or was he so indoctrinated that he didn't care?

"That's a promising start," Tarkin eventually said. "You can lead Amidala to believe you really are capable of changing sides."

"Governor… how open should I be?"

"What do you mean?"

"The senator asks… very private questions."

Tarkin hid a smile. She was a bold one, to be sure. "Maintain restriction over what you see fit, milord. Use your discretion, but only if you absolutely have to. Otherwise, answer her."

"But how am I supposed to be open and lying at the same time?"

A lie was a lie. What was so hard to comprehend? "What?"

"I can sense that she's very intuitive, governor. I'm not sure full out lying will work."

"You must get passed that, Lord Vader," Tarkin shook his head. "That is your mission."

Darth Vader bowed once more. "I understand."

The hologram disappeared.

Sighing, Tarkin sat in front of a window in his apartment, pondering the issue. His main objective was shifting, and it was probably for the best. He still had to worry about finding the Rebel base, but Palpatine and Tarkin were both waiting for and relying on Vader at this point. So now Tarkin's priority must change as well; he had to figure out what Palpatine was planning with this mission of his. Why was he so insistent upon manipulating the senator instead of just interrogating her? What made her so important, and why did it have to be Vader who had to do so?

It was time to get answers.

Obi-Wan sighed heavily, leaning against a wall. People were still milling about, though their numbers were far fewer than before. It was three in the morning local time, and he was really starting to feel it.

Al groaned. "We haven't really found much of anything. Most of the people haven't even heard of the Tsograda Sector, let alone Salkende."

"Well I guess that tells us that they keep to themselves," Siri shrugged, rubbing her eyes. "But that's not much to go on. We've searched high and low on the Promenade. We need to widen our search radius."

"That requires money," Obi-Wan noted. "We would need to take a taxi."

They could just walk, but they had to do so after leaving the Promenade; like Imperial Center, Nar Shaddaa built its cities vertically, and so the buildings were hundreds, if not thousands, of floors high. Sometimes the buildings were connected with bridges at different levels, and sometimes they weren't. The Promenade was a floating monolith with enormous repulsorlifts holding it in the air. One could feel the ground vibrate softly as the repulsorlifts kept the massive structure from plummeting. They were on a floating island; there was no way they could walk anywhere.

"We still have a lot left over," Siri replied in a quieter voice so as not to attract attention; the Promenade may have been the most respectable part of town, but that didn't mean it was harmless.

"But it's already so late," Al pointed out. "How are we going to cover any more ground? Do you have any idea how big each building is? How many levels there are?"

"Then we'll have to split up," Siri surmised.

Obi-Wan jumped, startled to alertness. "No, that is a very bad idea."

Siri rolled her eyes. "Obi, I can handle myself better than both of you. I'm a trained combatant, remember?"

"Hey, what is that supposed to mean?" Al snapped, his tiredness making him irritable. "I can handle myself in a fight just fine."

"Well then that just leaves Obi," Siri replied, looking at him.

Obi-Wan sighed heavily. His wife was just as grumpy as Al. He wanted to argue the point that Nar Shaddaa was still extremely dangerous, and it was a very bad idea for any of them to be wandering around a place like this on their own at three in the morning. That plan screamed of suicide and stupidity. Then again, they were noticeably armed, so maybe it would detract most. But…

"Siri, can't you at least stay with me?" Obi-Wan asked.

Siri raised an eyebrow. "You're not actually that scared, are you?"

"It's not wise for a woman to be wandering this place alone this late." Obi-Wan said reluctantly. He knew she'd blow up the instant he pointed it out.

He was right. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying—"

"You know perfectly well that I can kick anybody's asteroid, so don't feed me that load of—"

"Splitting up, it is!" Al hastily interrupted. Looking to Obi-Wan he whispered, "Blast, you are tired. Have you lost your mind?"

"I have perfect faith in my wife," Obi-Wan replied softly. Al probably was right, though; this normally wouldn't concern him as much if he weren't so kriffing exhausted. "But the rest of this moon doesn't think like me."

"So they'll get shot to pieces, big deal." Siri snapped.

"It will be a big deal if you start some sort of gang war," Obi-Wan retorted.

"Tell you what," Al hastily stepped between the two irate spouses. "Siri can go to the Nikto Sector. It's close to the Promenade, so it's not too bad. I'll go to the Red Light Sector."

At this, even Obi-Wan looked at Al uncertainly. "Are you sure about that?"

"I might actually be more suitable for that place," Siri noted.

"Hey, just 'cause I don't like shooting doesn't mean I'm not good at it," Al reminded them. "Also, I've been here before."

Obi-Wan and Siri both had to concede the point there. Obi-Wan then asked, "So where will I go?"

"The Corellian Sector," Al answered. "That's close to the Promenade too. Same building as Siri; just bear in mind that just because you guys are on or in the same building does not mean you're anywhere near each other. That building is bigger than ten Promenades put side by side… and that's just width."

Obi-Wan nodded a little reluctantly, and then Siri laughed. "Corellian sounds more civilized than Nikto – you got the baby sector, Obi."

"Don't bet the villa," Obi-Wan muttered.

With their destinations decided, the trio distributed the money evenly. Al left with a tired smile, and Obi-Wan placed his hand on Siri's shoulder to bid her safety. She knew what he was going to say before the words formed in his mouth, pulling him into a hug and kissing him. The two hugged far more than they kissed, so he was a little caught off guard, but he welcomed it nonetheless. Obi-Wan was never particularly affectionate; he typically had to remind himself to hug those he loved to show he cared (if he hadn't witnessed and experienced the action so much growing up in his adopted family, he probably wouldn't even have considered it). Siri was one of the few who didn't need words to know he cared about her, but he also knew she was very physical in her way of relaying emotions. Still, kisses were few and far between; in a sense it made them more special, but in another sense it made them more awkward. In this instance, though, it was appreciated. Nothing mattered in that moment, and his worries were lost in the ocean of life around him. The two breathed each other in, and then pulled away.

Siri smiled at him, but before he could say anything, she walked away. Obi-Wan sighed, regaining his focus. It was time to get to work. He made his way to the taxi pad, dreading the return of the polluted atmosphere; at least the Promenade had good air scrubbers, just as Al had noted.

After Obi-Wan requested to go to the Corellian Sector, he expected the driver to ask more specific questions, like a specific address or some sort of public area, but apparently Nar Shaddaa had specific locations where taxis would drop people off. There were places even taxis wouldn't go. Obi-Wan shuddered at the thought.

Eventually the taxi approached a landing pad. They had flown down quite a ways, and the pad led into an opening in the building which served as an open hallway of sorts. There were no walls to the outside, only walls to indoor areas. It was like a covered balcony hidden within the massive building. Goodness, Nar Shaddaa was very much like Imperial Center in its layout.

Obi-Wan disembarked and then looked around hesitantly. He wasn't sure what he would find here; most respectable people were asleep, so he figured he'd have to look for an information broker. That would also require money. He hoped he'd have enough left over to get him back to the Promenade at this point.

The Corellian Sector reminded him strikingly of one of the reasons why he didn't like Imperial Center. All the levels, except for the very top, made him feel claustrophobic. The air was typically stale (and here it was mixed with smells that Obi-Wan didn't even want to think about), the people pale and sickly depending on the level, and everywhere he looked he was surrounded by duracrete. He didn't know how people could stand it. He knew some couldn't help it; the term "cloudhead" had been created by people who lived in these levels on Imperial Center and who couldn't afford to ever see the light of day; the sky was some abstract concept to them. It made Obi-Wan's skin crawl. He had never been a particularly adventurous person (joining the service corps had been out of duty and principle, not thrill seeking), but even he couldn't imagine a life where you were stuck in the same slab of duracrete your entire existence.

The streets were mainly empty at this point; pale street lights lit the path, burning into Obi-Wan's tired eyes. The area was dead quiet, making his skin crawl a little bit, and his hand once more fell to his blaster. As he continued to walk down the path, Obi-Wan felt a shiver run down his spine, and his gut clenched. He wasn't sure if he was suddenly feeling ill because of the smell, but then he suddenly heard rustling and he dove for cover. A Human male walked down the main street casually, a blaster strapped to his leg. There was something about the way the man walked that caught Obi-Wan's attention; he stood very upright, his shoulders squared, his stride perfect. His eyes were very alert for this time of the morning, and he had a bearing of control.

This man was an Imperial.

Obi-Wan watched him carefully, staying hidden in the shadows. The man walked over to an alley that was close by, folding his arms impatiently. When he spoke, his Coruscanti accent confirmed Obi-Wan's suspicions; no intelligent or respectable person on Nar Shaddaa would speak with an educated accent unless they wanted to get robbed. Even Obi-Wan dropped his accent while he was here.

"You'd better be here," the Imperial whispered. Obi-Wan leaned in to hear him better, but he said nothing after this. Instead, he just stood and waited, presumably for whoever he was supposed to meet.

Why were there Imperials on Nar Shaddaa? This moon was controlled by the Hutts, who were neutral to both the Empire and the Alliance. They didn't care which side won so long as they had a profit. It didn't make sense for the Empire to be doing any sort of covert operation… unless the Alliance had operatives on Nar Shaddaa as well? Obi-Wan wasn't sure; he didn't know all of the inner workings of the Alliance. He just helped gather what information he could on Imperial Center.

A silhouette became barely visible down the alley. It eventually formed into a Twi'lek female; he could tell from the lekku and the body shape. Beyond that, though, he couldn't see anything.

"You called?" the woman asked in a gravelly voice.

"I've been told you're very good at acquiring things," the Imperial stated. "I require a specific item."

"Specifics cost more."

"Yes, I'm aware of that," the Imperial waved an impatient hand. "I want you to get me some Kelathik serum."

"The Kelathik serum?" the woman repeated. "What would you need that for, Mr. Imperial? Do you know what that stuff does?"

"I am perfectly aware of what it does," the man hissed. "I don't have to tell you why I need, just that I need it. Can you get it or not?"

"Yeah, I can manage that," the woman replied. "But I'll need some reassurance up front. This stuff can get you executed in the Empire, you know."

"We're on a neutral moon. You have nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, but I'm dealing with an Imperial. It's not like you guys actually make laws that make sense."

Obi-Wan bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing.

"You have my word." The Imperial replied. "I'm a member of Intelligence; I can ensure you never have any issues with the Empire."

"Never, huh? Never is a long time, you know. I think I'll take that as my payment."

"What?"

"You make sure the Empire and I never cross paths in an unpleasant manner, and I'll get you what you need. Deal?"

The Imperial was silent for a time. Obi-Wan detected an unusual amount of nervousness from him. And what was Kelathik serum?

"Very well," the Imperial finally said.

"Perfect. Same time same place in two days and I'll have your order."

The Imperial nodded curtly and watched the female go. As he turned to leave, Obi-Wan decided it was time to get some answers. He watched the Imperial depart, memorizing his features, before he scampered down the alley to find the woman. She had vanished, however; she knew this area incredibly well. She no doubt had scouted the spot before choosing it as a meeting place. Sighing, Obi-Wan turned and searched for the Imperial again; he was far less subtle in his departure, simply walking down the main drag. What was Obi-Wan going to do? He couldn't confront the Imperial. That was suicide. But this man was obviously doing something clandestine, even by the Empire's standards; he doubted Intelligence was aware of this transaction, and that placed circumstances in Obi-Wan's favor if he played his cards right. He could tell Al about this, and Al could arrange for someone to stage the area.

Watching the Imperial for a moment longer, Obi-Wan turned to go down the alley when he heard his comlink beep softly. Jumping, he snatched it and squeezed it to prevent the noise from traveling. Peeking into the street, he saw that the Imperial was gone. Answering it, he heard Al speak.

"Hey, I got some good info at the Red Light Sector. We should meet back up at the Promenade."

That was awfully fast, Obi-Wan thought to himself. "Did you tell Siri?"

"Yeah, she knows. Be quick!"

"I'm on my way."

Obi-Wan cut the connection, still confused and curious as to what he had witnessed in the alley, but then he put the matter aside for the time being. Maybe Al would know something more about it.

Padmé lay in bed, pondering. She didn't want to get up, but her body was used to waking early, so it was about 0800. Today was her first day, the first actual day that she would spend on Varykino with Darth Vader. All twenty-four hours.

Rising, she sifted through her closet. It was time to get his attention. She had to get his attention. His words from yesterday, how he didn't trust her, echoed in her mind. She couldn't have that. She had to make him trust her. She had to make him want her. If she couldn't have that hold over him, she had no hope of keeping everyone alive and perhaps even getting information out of him. It was a dangerous game she was playing, but she had long since come to terms with playing it.

Smiling, Padmé pulled out a yellow layered gown that turned into a shade of orange, then purple, then lilac. This would do perfectly.

Time for a new day… time to get to work.

Padmé cleaned herself up and donned the gown, putting her hair up in a conch shape with some headbands. Twirling in front of the mirror, she nodded to herself. She didn't mind the seductive look, though exposing all of her back to the Sith Lord's eyes did make her skin crawl a little. Still, if he was anything like he had been yesterday, then it shouldn't be too bad… just tiring.

Sabé. The name appeared in Padmé's mind, and her gut clenched like she'd been punched. She suddenly felt sick. She was flirting with her friend's killer. Then she took a deep breath and violently shook her head, moaning. She had decided on this plan long before Sabé had been involved. She would do this to make up for that, to prevent any more accidents from happening.

Nodding to herself, Padmé exited her room. She glanced at the door that led to Vader's room and noted that the door was slightly ajar. She peeked in and saw that the bed was neatly made. Glancing around the villa, she didn't see any sign of him until she looked outside. The Sith was walking down the balcony, getting ready to leave the villa.

Walking onto the balcony, Padmé placed one hand on the rail and called out to him with a soft smile. "Good morning."

Vader turned and was probably going to offer some sort of acknowledgment when he paused, just staring at her. Padmé took a small step closer to him. His mouth fell slightly ajar, his eyes widening slightly, before a small blush appeared on his cheeks and he looked away.

"Did you sleep well?" Padmé asked, leaning against the rail.

Vader nodded, gulping.

"I did too," Padmé added, since she knew he wouldn't ask. "It's so nice being here. The scenery is beautiful, and we get to be alone together."

Vader's gaze slowly returned to her and his muscles seemed to tighten. He bowed abruptly and turned to leave.

"Milord, wait," Padmé took a few steps closer to him. "Where are you going?"

"Walking."

"Oh, that's a wonderful idea," Padmé laughed. "It is a gorgeous morning. Have you eaten breakfast yet? We could eat together after we walk."

Vader turned so he stood in profile to her. He glanced at her, his blush gone and his eyes growing a little stormy.

"I have not eaten."

"Perfect! May I join you on your walk, then?" Padmé asked as she began to walk down the steps of the balcony, ready to stand beside him.

"No."

Padmé stopped. Before she could try to argue with him, however, Vader had vanished around the balcony wall, walking away from the villa. Instead of following him, she simply walked to the edge and watched him. His tense muscles began to relax as he moved, and though his back was to her, she was sure his face was resuming its usual neutral look. She supposed he was a bit of an introvert and just needed his space, but she wasn't supposed to let him be comfortable like that. Still… it was probably wise to not push the point too much. She'd see him for breakfast, anyway.

Turning, Padmé reentered the villa and walked to the kitchen to make some breakfast for herself and the Sith Lord. She hummed softly as she worked, enjoying the time alone. It was rather nice to just be doing something with her hands and not worry about anything at all. Padmé loved to keep herself busy, but sometimes she wondered if that was either because she didn't want to stop or because she couldn't stop. Her older sister Sola had always told her that she worked too hard and needed to settle down eventually. She recalled the last time she had spoken to her sister. Padmé had been helping her take care of Ryoo, who had been a newborn at the time, and Sola had pointed out that Padmé should eventually slow down the hectic pace of her life so she could enjoy having a family as well.

Padmé laughed bitterly at the memory. At this rate she'd be lucky to survive the year, let alone settle down and have a family. And what would happen if she did settle down? At this point she'd made enough enemies to get her brother and sister-in-law in trouble – the Empire didn't trust her, and she had political enemies back on Naboo who were in support of the Empire so they could further their own agendas. Using a royal surname was not enough to hide her from the galaxy; just because she was publicly known as Padmé Amidala didn't mean that people couldn't quickly figure that she was the same person as Padmé Naberrie.

She supposed she could always leave Naboo. But she definitely didn't like that option. She loved her family and her homeworld, even if it did unfortunately spawn the current dictator.

Palpatine. Just hearing his name in her mind made her skin crawl. She loathed that man. In her very young years she had heard in school (the brain-washing academy as she had begun to call it as she grew older) that Palpatine was the end goal that people should strive for, especially those who wanted to pursue a political career. He was strong, a brilliant leader, determined, and would do anything to protect his Empire. His Empire. Did people even realize what the blazes they were saying? What made anybody think that Palpatine was a decent ruler when he had proclaimed himself dictator over the galaxy? Why had they gone along with it? Padmé had reviewed the history of the late Republic over and over and still didn't get it. Logically, one could deduce that people were in desperate need of a strong leader. The Clone War had shred the galaxy to pieces; the Republic hadn't experienced a full scale war in over a thousand years, and then suddenly the Clone Wars started up and deprived people of money and freedom for almost ten years. By the time the war was supposedly coming to an end, most of the Jedi Order had been wiped out, Kamino couldn't resupply the army at the same rate it was being depleted, and both the Separatists and the Republic were almost bankrupt. But where did the blame go? To the senate. To the prattling bureaucrats and politicians. Because obviously the man in charge had nothing to do with it. Somehow the people's opinion of Palpatine seemed to improve as the war progressed because somehow he had the media in his pocket, and they made him look immaculate despite all the atrocities occurring.

Krif the media. Padmé knew they were a necessary evil but she still despised them.

Sighing, Padmé took the breakfast she had made out to the dining area and set it on the table. She wondered what Vader's opinion of Palpatine was, anyway. He had said yesterday that he liked Palpatine, which was his way of saying that he trusted him, apparently—Padmé was definitely going to have her work cut out for her reading into his strange way of expressing himself and his ideas—so she supposed he'd have a similar opinion as the fanatical Republic idiots.

Padmé shook her head. Look at her, calling them idiots. As if she hadn't made mistakes in her time. As if anybody hadn't made mistakes. Sure, it was a serious one, and it still blew her mind that nobody had tried to oppose the movement to reorganize the Republic into an Empire, but… she supposed they were all just imperfect beings. But the imperfection of Palpatine's rule would be fixed—that was a promise. Padmé often wondered what would happen once the Empire did return to a Republic, once the Rebels did win. Despite her earlier dark thoughts, she still believed in the old system – the only reason it had all gone wrong was because they began to change the rules by giving Palpatine emergency powers.

Of course this was all assuming the Rebels actually won the war. At the moment, she wasn't sure. She felt isolated, alone – she hadn't heard anything from the Alliance since she had spoken to Organa. All other contact had been through Obi-Wan and Siri, who had spoken to the Alliance through a contact. It was all so distant sometimes it didn't seem real.

Moaning, Padmé rubbed her face. She was rambling.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard footsteps from outside. Glancing at the chronometer, she was surprised to see that an hour had already passed.

Darth Vader entered the villa, immediately coming into sight since the dining area was right by the balcony. His eyes were glazed over, and he looked lost in thought. He didn't seem to notice Padmé was there. Clearing her throat, Padmé said, "Welcome back. I've got breakfast for you."

The Sith Lord paused, looking at her. Then he glanced at the food and nodded, walking to one side of the table. At least he wasn't arguing.

Sitting across from him, Padmé gave him a smile and encouraged him to eat. "All our other meals give me the impression that you don't eat much, milord, but the food here is too good to waste."

Vader didn't reply, picking at his food carefully. Padmé wasn't sure if he was a picky eater or if he was still pondering something. In either case, he eventually began to chip away at the plateful she had given him. She turned her attention to her food, but she was wondering how she could get his attention next. She'd wait until after they ate, that much was for sure. Maybe she could talk to him about previous dates; she recalled that Siri had brought up the issue at dinner and Vader had brushed it aside, but maybe she could reopen the issue.

Before Padmé could say anything, Vader spoke first. "You seem very familiar with Varykino."

"My family used to come here a lot when I was younger," Padmé explained. "Did your family take you on vacations when you were little?"

Vader paused in his meal, staring at her as if she had spoken in a foreign language. Then he returned his gaze to his plate. "No."

Was he acting guarded, or was he just being his usual antisocial self? She wasn't really sure.

"Not a single one?" Padmé prodded further. "No trips to the park or anything? Surely at least once…?"

"Do you like parks?"

Padmé quirked an eyebrow, confused by his random question. "Well, yes, I do. I love nature in general."

"It's certainly quieter and calmer than the city," Vader remarked.

Padmé almost fell out of her seat – had she just heard him make a somewhat normal remark? If that's what a good morning walk did for him, Padmé would force him to walk all kriffing morning – it would give her alone time and help him act like an actual person.

"So you prefer nature to the city too?" Padmé asked, daring to hope that he might actually declare an opinion about something.

Darth Vader looked up. He watched her carefully for a short while, gazing into her eyes. Padmé began to wonder if her outfit had caught his attention again or if she had said something strange to him. After a few seconds, though, he nodded.

Padmé was floored. He liked something? "I thought you said preferences were trivial."

Vader's finger jerked slightly on his utensil. Something was off about this… "I… what I meant was… it depends on the situation."

Now Padmé was just confused. "What?"

"I—we were on Imperial Center. And the representative was there. And the handmaiden."

Padmé laughed. "You're telling me you're shy?"

Darth Vader sighed. "I haven't been in many situations like that."

Surprisingly that seemed to be the most honest thing he'd said all day. He really did seem to be acting differently than he had on Imperial Center, so his words from yesterday seemed to hold some merit… but she couldn't shake the feeling that sometimes it felt a little too different. Maybe it was just time she really took control of this conversation. It was also time she got some straightforward answers.

"Milord, I'm curious," Padmé began slowly, getting his attention. "What do you think of the current state of the Empire?"

Oh, what a loaded question that was. His reaction would tell her a lot about him. If he immediately replied that he thought it was amazing, he'd fit snugly into the stereotypical Imperial category, but there were subcategories to that as well – was he a fanatic or just power hungry? If he took his time, he may be a little uncertain, or he may be gauging her reaction just as she was gauging his.

Vader was silent.

Padmé watched him carefully. He looked at her, his hand frozen above his plate balancing some food on the utensil. He took a deep breath and leaned back in his seat, lowering his hand and putting the food down. His gaze remained on his food for a long time. He seemed conflicted; was he really that unsure about the Empire…? Padmé thought it strange that she could read someone so wrongly, though; back on Imperial Center he had seemed like the usual attack dog that the Empire employed.

So if that planet really did make him act so radically different, why was that the case? Again, Padmé couldn't shake the feeling that something felt off about this conversation.

"The Empire… could probably use a bit of cleaning up." Vader finally admitted quietly.

Padmé stared at him, surprised. That statement was unexpectedly open. Let's see where this leads… "What do you mean?"

Once again, Vader took his time, finding the correct words. "Well… the treatment of non-Humans isn't entirely… fair."

Padmé felt her heartbeat increase. This was not a side of Vader that she was expecting to see. "The anti-alien laws, you mean?"

Vader nodded. "I see no reason in discriminating according to one's species. There's no point to it. It's impractical."

Padmé felt a bright hope shimmering in her, but it shifted slightly at his wording. "What do you mean impractical?"

"Why waste resources?" Vader looked at her, folding his hands in his lap, his food forgotten. "If a Twi'lek can do a job just as well as a Human, perhaps even better, then why forsake the Twi'lek?"

Padmé considered his words, sipping her milk. "You do seem to have quite an obsession with practicality, milord. Still, I understand your point. I agree with you, too – the anti-alien laws are unjust."

The Sith Lord's eyes grew harder in an instant. They held something strange… though they were sharp, they were also bright, as if he was happy, but perhaps not in a mirthful way…

"So what do you propose to do about that, senator?" he asked.

"Well, I did do a bit to change the matter here first." Padmé replied, slipping into a casual conversation unknowingly. "I got rid of many of the anti-alien regulations on Naboo; some are still in effect, unfortunately, because Imperial law overrules planetary law, but it's not nearly as bad as in other places. It was one of the reasons I wanted to be queen; I wanted to help others, to defend freedom and justice. I just…"

Padmé sighed, shaking her head. She was about to continue when she froze. What was she saying? She was getting far too comfortable talking with this man when she still wasn't sure of his motives. Just because he disagreed with some of the Empire's laws didn't mean he'd betray it in a heartbeat. When she glanced at the Sith Lord, she noticed a familiar look on his face. His eyebrows were raised ever so slightly, his eyes intense and focused. He knew she would say that. He already knew what she had done as queen.

He was leading her on.

Padmé felt her stomach lurch, and her appetite immediately vanished. Abruptly standing, she smoothed her dress, looking at the floor to avoid his gaze.

"Not hungry?" Vader asked, keeping his voice sincere. Just how sincere was he? Did he actually care at all? Blast it, she was getting invested already; she needed to stop this.

"I'm fine." She answered. "I just—let's get some fresh air, shall we?"

As Padmé stepped onto the balcony, she heard Vader's chair move as he stood. She hugged herself, trying to get her thoughts and emotions together. She felt like they had taken a step back from yesterday – like he had been more honest yesterday and today was just trying to manipulate her. She had hoped yesterday would become the norm; as awkward and exhausting as the conversation had sometimes been, it was at least a conversation. Today… this… this was a duel.

Darth Vader approached her, standing to her left. He kept his eyes on the scenery, bringing her a little relief. Padmé leaned forward onto the railing. Changing the topic, she took a deep breath and smiled. "Mm, smell that fresh air. So you said you've never been on a vacation before? What about a school trip? I remember when I was in school we would take trips out here – we'd swim in the lake and then lie in the sand for hours to let ourselves dry."

Vader looked at her as she spoke, his gaze drifting from her arms to her shoulders to her back. Then he looked away. He said nothing.

Sighing, Padmé prompted him again. "Did you take any school trips?"

"No."

"Where did you go to school?"

Vader was quiet, and he shifted his stance a little.

"Well?" Padmé pushed; she wasn't going to let him think about a reply.

"Near the palace," Vader answered.

"Did you like it there?"

"It was adequate."

Padmé did genuinely laugh at that. "Was that how you viewed it back then? Adequate? Your parents instilled quite the pragmatic mind in you, Lord Vader."

She received no reply, but she wasn't really expecting one. Instead, she leaned towards him, her arm touching his. Moving her left arm slightly, she brushed the back of her hand across his hand. His fingers twitched, moving away from her as his head snapped in her direction.

"Oh milord, don't be so shy," Padmé whispered, gazing into his blue eyes. "It's just you and me here."

The Sith Lord stiffened, but didn't pull away.

"Be honest with me, milord," Padmé smiled at him, her face a breath away from his. "I really do want to be with you, and I think you want to be with me… so why can't you just talk to me? I won't bite, I promise."

Padmé leaned in further, closing her eyes slightly as her eyes watched his lips. She wasn't sure she wanted to kiss him again, but it had certainly worked quite well last time. Vader, however, seemed to recall what had happened last time and took a step away. Padmé placed her hand behind his head, running her fingers through his hair. "Maybe we can work together to reverse some of those discriminatory laws, milord. Would you like to work with me?"

"W-work with you?" His voice was a little higher than usual.

"Yes," Padmé smiled again, putting her other hand behind his head so her arms were around him. "We would get to be around each other a lot, and we'd both be working for a common goal. I'd always be there to help you."

Vader suddenly gripped her arms. The hold was firm, making her jump, but it didn't hurt. He pushed her away from him.

"Do you not want that, then?" Padmé asked carefully, her heart racing. He hadn't acted like this before.

Vader shook his head, taking several steps from her. "Just… stop. We can talk about stuff but just stop… that."

"Why?" Padmé asked curiously. She was again astonished at just how different he was; any other man would happily oblige when a woman acted the way she had. It wasn't like her flirting didn't have an effect on him, just not the one she expected.

"It's weird." Vader replied awkwardly. Padmé laughed—hard. His face flushed a little. "It's not funny."

"Can you tell me why it's weird?" Padmé asked, finally calming herself.

Vader shook his head, blushing even more. Without another word, he turned and hastily went down the stairs, walking away from the villa. Padmé figured she'd let him go. She might have to reconsider her strategy, anyway; he seemed more timid of her flirting than enticed. While making Darth Vader scared of her was a rather amusing thought, she knew that eventually he would retaliate if he got scared enough – he had almost done that just now. She needed to be gentler. But how could she be gentle and obvious at the same time? Vader didn't notice her subtle flirtations, but he was very uncomfortable with her blatant ones.

She supposed the best way to start was to figure out why he was uncomfortable. It was rather obvious at this point that he had never encountered the sort of interactions she was providing… and it made sense, honestly; no one in their right mind would do what Padmé was attempting. It was just a testament to how desperate she was… and to be frank, she was actually curious. Siri would automatically dismiss Vader as a monster, Obi-Wan would withhold any opinion until he had examined the situation more closely, but Padmé would go and figure it out for herself by actually talking to him.

So was that it, then? He was uncomfortable because it was different? Maybe. Maybe it was just too much at once. It was odd enough that someone was acting like they were attracted to him, let alone trying to seduce him. Yes, Padmé supposed she would have to be far gentler with him.

But blast it all, he just seemed so clueless sometimes. How was she going to get this done in the little time she had?

Baby steps, Padmé… she advised herself. She just needed to take it one day at a time. She'd change her approach when he returned… if he returned. Judging from his behavior she wouldn't be surprised to find him fleeing the island at the moment. Returning to the villa, Padmé sat and finished her breakfast, waiting for the Sith Lord to return.

It was lunchtime when she finally heard him. Going to the balcony, Padmé was surprised at his appearance. His face was sweaty and his cheeks were flushed from exercise. He was panting slightly, and his hair was soaked.

"What happened?" Padmé asked.

Vader looked at her with an expression denoting confusion. "Nothing."

"Obviously something happened," she motioned towards his frazzled appearance. "It wasn't my fault, was it? I'm sorry about earlier, milord; I didn't mean to scare you."

"Scare?" Vader repeated. His calm expression was back, but he did some genuinely puzzled when he repeated the word to her. Shaking his head, he just continued to walk to the stairs. "I did what was necessary."

Now Padmé was confused. Instead of asking, she just let it drop. His strange phrasing would be a problem for another conversation. Then an idea popped in her mind. "Did you go swimming?"

Vader finally reached where she was and shook his head.

"Well, what did you do?"

The Sith Lord paused, holding the same look that he had when he was beginning his walk that morning. It held reluctance, irritation, confusion, concern—and then it vanished. "I sparred."

"You what?"

"Sparred." Vader repeated before entering without any other acknowledgement.

"You can finish your breakfast if you like," Padmé called after him; she figured it would be better to not follow him. "I can make some more food for you since it's lunchtime."

When she got no reply, she sighed. Perhaps she had pushed him too far already. Well, it would be best to just leave him alone for a while, then. They could meet again at dinner.

I feel like I'm making these chapters really dense... but hopefully it's not too bad, I trust?