Wow, 199 favs! O.o It's really cool/weird that so many of you like this fic, haha - I'm glad you're all enjoying it! :D Also, some of you are reading my mind, lol - I was imagining that this was like a roller coaster, and we're just cresting the first massive hill (the plunge to hell will be coming very soon!), and some of you specifically said that in your reviews. Force users, all of you! XD
It was the moment of truth. Taking a steadying breath, Al did his best not to impatiently pace the alley. He kept an eye on his data pad, which held security feeds of the entire area, searching intently for Odeki. He prayed the man hadn't double crossed them for both their sakes; he'd like to hope the man wasn't that stupid, since Intelligence would just kill him for his treason before it killed Al.
There he was. Al tensed as he recognized the man walking hastily through the crowds. It didn't take long before he was turning into the alley where the smuggler stood.
"Long time no see," Al remarked, his hand slipping to his holstered weapon under his cloak; he didn't want to take any chances, and he was uneasy as it was.
Odeki swallowed and shifted back and forth on his feet. Then he cleared his throat. "My… my wife and I discussed the matter fully last night."
Al waited as the man paused, growing a little nervous. He hoped the man's hesitancy was because he'd decided to help.
Odeki took another shaky breath. "I'll help you. But—but you have to hold up your end of the bargain; Intelligence taught me how to shoot, so I could blow your brains out. And—and my wife is a biochemist – she can concoct something that'll make you wish you had died, and—"
"All right, all right, don't get your trousers in a knot," Al interrupted, mildly amused at the guy's threats. He'd love to see this shaky, terrified person try to shoot him. Well, he actually wouldn't, but it was still funny, and… never mind. "We'll start today. You get information, and I'll head out with your wife. I'll give you a list of frequencies so you can contact me, got it?"
"I have to have reassurances!" Odeki stepped forward, his brow furrowing with worry.
"Relax," Al said, holding his hands up to appease the frantic man. "I'll let your wife call you before we head out and after we get out of hyperspace, okay? Then you can call her as often as you like, though I wouldn't recommend it; if Intelligence traces it they'll attack wherever she is."
Odeki grew paler and took yet another calming breath. "Right. Right, I… I won't do that. But how am I going to get information? I mean… I mean, what do you want?"
"It doesn't have to be too much," Al assured him. "You don't have to crack every code they have. What I do want is anything pertaining to the Rebels – what they know about us and the like. Surely you figured out some way to do that last night?"
"I could have my mouse droids copy everything they receive into their hard drive," Odeki offered. "Then I'd copy it to a personal data pad and wipe their memories clean; Intelligence has me do memory wipes on them every day."
"That doesn't sound all encompassing," Al said uncertainly.
"I can't hack into their mainframe; I'm not that good at programming, and it would take a genius to crack their security," Odeki shook his head.
Al blew out a sigh. "Then I guess it'll have to do. Here." He handed the man a data chip. "This contains ten different frequencies. You use the bottom one for about a week and then switch to the second one up, but don't go out of order unless it's an emergency – that's how I'll be able to tell whether you've got something serious, okay?"
"Bottom one. Right." Odeki nodded as he took the data chip.
Al eyed him suspiciously. "You sure you got it?"
"Yes." Odeki insisted as he pocketed the chip. "I suppose I should tell you where to find my wife, then."
"I hope she took some leave."
"She did; sick leave. Surely your Rebel friends can fabricate a hospital or doctor form in a few days to say she's really under the weather?"
"Yeah, we can do that."
Odeki nodded again, his mouth becoming a thin line as he grew even more nervous. "And… and when she stops running out of excuses… I mean…"
Al caught his meaning. The man was worried that once things grew suspicious, they'd come after him. He smiled reassuringly. "Hey, it won't come to that. Your wife could always quit out of medical necessity after a while. If things go south I'll get you out of here. I promise."
Odeki looked slightly reassured, but he still didn't seem happy with his predicament. Al felt bad for him, but this was honestly his best option. "I appreciate the help, Rubar. I'll get your wife out of here. Like I said, she'll call you before we go into hyperspace, and when we get out of hyperspace I'll let her call you again; by then I expect you can transmit some data?"
The man's breathing quickened slightly, but he held himself together. "Yes… yes, I can."
"Great," the smuggler happily said, patting the man on the shoulder, making him jump and pull away. "Good luck."
Odeki tipped his head in acknowledgement and hastily glanced around before departing. Al was still worried that he'd get himself caught, but he had little choice in the matter. Blast, he hoped this worked out.
Sighing, Almusian headed for the man's apartment to get his wife. It was time to get the hell out of here.
There is no emotion; there is peace.
No one was devoid of emotion. But a Jedi could not let his emotions guide him. A Jedi had to be calm, centered. A Jedi had to be rational. A Jedi could feel empathy, love, remorse, even anger, but a Jedi had to let those emotions flow through him like the brook through the training grounds. A Jedi could never submit to emotion.
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
The Jedi used to be renowned for their knowledge. The archives within the Jedi Temple held the most information in the galaxy. Jedi were constantly called on to settle disputes, explore new worlds, make new beginnings… a Jedi had to know everything. A Jedi couldn't enter a situation ignorant. A Jedi had to know his enemy… the Sith.
Something stirred the peaceful atmosphere. Anger. Irritation. Impatience. Thinking about the Sith made her remember that Darth Vader was still out there, that the Empire was still out there. He took a deep breath. Something else disturbed the mood, aimed at her. A rebuke, perhaps? He couldn't tell.
There is no passion; there is serenity.
Similar to no emotion, maybe? He grew confused. This seemed a bit redundant. Or perhaps it was simply because it was so important it was worth restating. One couldn't use their emotions for fuel. A Jedi had to be serene.
Irritation again. Why were they lingering on this? Rebuke again. Patience.
There is no chaos; there is harmony.
But the galaxy was in chaos. A Jedi had to bring peace to the destruction, to end the disparity. A Jedi never added to the chaos.
There is no death; there is the Force.
No death… no…
Obi-Wan opened his eyes. That word still held too much emotion for him. He knew he had to just accept it and move on, but he wasn't ready for it yet. He felt anger and hurt surge through him, and he did his best to release it, he tried to reason why he should release it, but his words seemed too empty, as if he didn't really have an actual reason apart from fabricating one. He sighed and just did what he'd been doing for the past few days; he ignored it altogether.
Siri shifted beside him, equally uncomfortable with the last phrase, and she eventually opened her eyes as well. She was improving in her meditation technique, but they both still required Qui-Gon's assistance to enter it. The Jedi Master took a deep breath and finally opened his eyes, watching the two of them. Nothing needed to be said, and they all knew it; it was pointless to emphasize how much they needed to release this last heaviness that hung over them. They both knew they had to do so, but they just… weren't ready. Obi-Wan didn't know if he'd ever be ready.
He felt calmness surge through him, and he glanced at Qui-Gon. Both Obi-Wan and Siri had begun to develop a telekinetic bond—the Jedi called it a training bond—with the man since they spent almost every waking hour with him, and as he discovered this new connection more and more, he found it both reassuring and slightly unnerving. He really didn't have anything to hide from Qui-Gon, and he rather enjoyed having the peaceful presence to help him, but it seemed so foreign to have easy access to someone's mind… and for someone else to have easy access to his own mind in return. He really shouldn't think it's all that foreign, though; he and Siri had apparently been speaking to each other through the Force for years, and now that they were both aware of their sensitivity, their bond to each other had been deepening. But something in Obi-Wan had grown cold ever since the day of the funeral, and he'd hidden that cold part of him in the corner of his mind, inaccessible to everyone. The more he meditated, the more he learned about bonds and the Force, the better he became at shielding this part of himself. He still couldn't entirely hide it from Siri, but he'd learn eventually. He had to. A Jedi held on to no emotion, and a Jedi was always the strength that everyone else leaned on, that everyone else could rely on. Obi-Wan had always been the strong one for everybody, the reliable one, the reasonable one, and now that was more important than ever. If it meant he had to hide part of himself from the universe, even from his wife, then he would.
Qui-Gon spoke, interrupting Obi-Wan's thoughts. "I must speak with the Council, but I will be back soon. You two may continue the meditation without me."
The two stood at the same time as the Jedi Master and bowed to him before he left. Then they sat once more on the cushions, listening to the trickle of the drizzle outside. As soon as they were alone, Siri let out a small groan, leaning against the wall. "How much longer will we meditate on this stuff? I swear, it's like he's trying to make us miserable."
"You know that isn't his intent," Obi-Wan argued gently.
Siri stiffened and stared intently at him. Obi-Wan felt a little odd under her gaze, and he could have sworn he heard a whisper in his mind, and then she blew out a sigh as if she'd been holding her breath. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" he asked uncertainly.
"I tried to talk to you through the Force," Siri rolled her eyes. "Guess it didn't work."
Obi-Wan laughed. "I don't think our bond has progressed that far yet."
"No," she shook her head. "But it's progressed far enough. What's bothering you?" When Obi-Wan hesitated, not wanting to talk about Padmé, Siri added, "Besides the obvious."
Good, at least they wouldn't talk about that. "I received a message from Bail Organa last night. He said Hoth was settled and the Rebels were inviting the Jedi to join them."
Siri's face lit up, and Obi-Wan regretted telling her anything; he himself was a little reluctant to rejoin galactic affairs until he felt ready, but he knew Siri had steadily grown more eager to do so over the past few days. In either case, he'd told the Council first thing in the morning, and they'd received the news with a somber nod. He wasn't sure what they were planning. He didn't know what the future held. He did know, however, that he wasn't ready for it. Not yet.
As the two sat in silence, something caught his attention. At first he couldn't quite tell what it was, whether it was something he'd seen or heard or sensed, but he quickly narrowed it down to the third option, especially when Siri also paused and looked around curiously. Obi-Wan focused internally, trying to sort out what had changed, and he realized that something extra was in his mind, something humming with… he wasn't sure. It was familiar and… warm? Happy? He still struggled differentiating everything, but he knew this was the presence of a person and it was a familiar one. It wasn't Qui-Gon, though.
Almusian.
Siri caught on a second later and the two were on their feet, exiting the building and searching for their friend. Immense relief flooded Obi-Wan, and he knew that it came from his wife as well. It had been unspoken, but over the past two days they both had been thinking about what could go wrong on Imperial Center and they both had been desperately avoiding the idea that Al wouldn't be coming back.
As soon as they caught sight of him, Siri charged towards the Zabrak, catching him off guard when she grabbed him in a fierce hug. Al yelped, and Obi-Wan let out a small chuckle of amusement, pleased enough to just see him.
"Siri, you're going to break my ribs!" The smuggler complained breathlessly.
"Shut up," she laughed, though she did release him. "Blast, it's good to see you."
"Hey, I told you I'd be fine." Al said with a reassuring smile.
"What happened on Imperial Center?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Well," Al blew out a sigh, leaning against a tree. "I've got good news and bad news. The good news is that we finally have an operative in Intelligence, and he's already transmitted some data – just got the first batch when I dropped his wife off on Hoth. The bad news is that he's not an actual agent… he's, uh, maintenance."
"Maintenance?!" Obi-Wan and Siri repeated.
"Hey, he got some pretty decent info on his first transmission," Al argued a little defensively. "Found out that they swept through Wild Space looking for the enclave."
Dread filled Obi-Wan. "What?"
"They didn't find anything," Al immediately assured him. "In fact, they don't have anybody actively looking anymore."
Obi-Wan released a subtle sigh of relief as Siri muttered darkly about the Empire. Both spouses quickly shoved their emotions aside, however, and calmed once more. "Anything else new on your front?"
"The Rebels are finally finished moving into their base." Al reported happily, but then he immediately sulked. "And I'm in charge of supplies."
"And that's bad…?" Siri gathered hesitantly from his expression.
"Our main source of supplies right now is Salkende," Al whined. "That means I have to go Fjesky, which is in the middle of kriffing winter and I'm going to freeze my asteroid off. Not to mention Hoth itself is freezing."
Obi-Wan burst out laughing. He couldn't help it; after all the bad news they'd had lately, this 'tragic situation' in which Al found himself was just hilarious in comparison. Al crossed his arms irritably as Siri joined in and the two nearly doubled over. "Haha, laugh it up, jerks. You know I don't like the cold!" When his whining did little to stop their amusement, Al tried a different avenue. "How's training?"
"See for yourself," Siri replied, regaining her composure. She brandished her training blade.
Obi-Wan sighed in mild exasperation. He should have known this was coming; Siri loved all the Jedi combat training. Obi-Wan had to admit that relying on the Force while fighting was the easiest aspect of Jedi training (though learning about different lightsaber forms themselves, while fascinating, was also painstakingly difficult), but it didn't mean he preferred to fight. Nevertheless, he knew Siri was eager both to practice and to show off what she'd learned to Al – if anything, so she herself could feel like she was doing something useful. Her patience with being stuck on Ghanu'jivo was quickly running out.
Pulling out his own training blade, Obi-Wan assumed an opening stance. He remembered a handful of katas and saw Siri prepare similarly. They wouldn't get very far in this mock fight; there was only so much they could learn in a week, after all. Still, they were both already trained fighters, especially Siri, so they could improvise enough to sustain a decent duel, and that was what happened. After Siri and Obi-Wan went through several katas the sophisticated saber duel morphed as Siri let go of the hilt with one hand, dropped to the ground, and used her free hand to balance her as she kicked fiercely at Obi-Wan's legs. He leapt over the attack, and Siri twisted out of his way as he landed and aimed a slash at her back. The duel ended when Siri finally landed a hit on Obi-Wan's shoulder, making him stumble enough so she could place the training blade to his neck with a victorious smirk.
"I think that would be the widow-maker move," Al remarked with an impressed whistle. "You two look pretty wizard – but why don't you have lightsabers?"
"They will."
Obi-Wan and Siri jumped, having been too engrossed in the fight to sense Qui-Gon's return. The Jedi Master was watching them with a gentle smile. The couple bowed to him.
"Hello," Al greeted with a small smile. "So why'd you call?"
Obi-Wan and Siri exchanged confused glances. "You called Al?"
Qui-Gon nodded. "Yes, I did. Once I learned that he had completed his mission I requested he come here. The Council has decided that it will send a task force to the Alliance, leaving several ships to protect Ghanu'jivo until we can combine our enclave with your base. In the meantime, any other ship is remaining here, so I needed Almusian's help."
"With what?"
Qui-Gon folded his hands into his cloak's sleeves, assuming a more comfortable posture. "Under normal circumstances, an initiate goes through several years of preparatory combat training, but we live in a period of war, and you two have prior experience in fighting… it's time for you to construct your own lightsabers."
Obi-Wan felt shock flare through him, and a few seconds later Siri's surprise turned into excitement. There was one problem, though… "I heard the other initiates say that Ilum has an Imperial force on it."
"It does indeed," Qui-Gon acknowledged with a smile and a nod. "You will have to handle that on your own."
Terrific.
Al grew nervous. "Uh, is that a good idea? We shouldn't be trying to attract the Imps' attention, right?"
"Obi-Wan and Siri will not fight the Imperial forces," Qui-Gon said as he looked at the smuggler and then returned his gazed pointedly to them. "They will sneak by them, just as every other Padawan and Knight has done since our exile."
Were they ready to construct their lightsabers? Obi-Wan was slightly concerned about this on multiple levels, but for once, he just let it go; if Qui-Gon had faith in him, then surely he was capable of completing the task. Release your worry to the Force. And so he did.
By the stars that was freeing.
"Pack your things," Qui-Gon instructed. "We leave in half an hour."
Governor… kill me. Please… please kill me.
Tarkin pinched the bridge of his nose as he once again became distracted from his work. He'd ordered an aide to bring all his reports to his quarters so he could remain there for the day. He'd also requested an audience with the emperor at least five hours ago, but he hadn't heard anything yet. He was debating whether he should just leave instead of wait for permission.
Kill me.
Damn it, how could he have let the boy get to this point? Had that been his intention? Had it been Tarkin's intention? Was this really the fruition of his planning? The boy was no use to him if he was suicidal.
Tarkin felt his gut clench and he almost grew nauseous at the thought. A small part of him was sick of hearing how useful Darth Vader was, but he wasn't sure he should really indulge it. After all, the boy was far too destroyed to be anything but a tool, right? He knew nothing else in his life, he had nothing else… Tarkin could give him so much more, but he wasn't sure it would really change anything… and for his plans to work, Vader couldn't change. Once again, the governor found himself debating whether taking Vader to Eriadu was a good idea. Obviously the boy had to leave Imperial Center, but… well, he supposed there really wasn't a better time.
Sighing, the grand moff stood from his desk and walked to his bedroom. The room was barely lit since Tarkin had dimmed the windows so Vader could sleep. It seemed the sedative was still in effect, though the boy was finally curled up as he usually slept instead of limp and lifeless as he was earlier. After ensuring the young Sith was fine, he left the room and grabbed his comlink, calling his spy. When she answered, he simply said, "Go to Eriadu and ensure my estate is ready for my arrival."
"Yes, sir."
After cutting the connection Tarkin carelessly tossed the comlink onto his desk and walked to his balcony, gazing out at the skyline. If he didn't hear from Palpatine by evening, he would prep a shuttle and take the boy himself. He could come up with some excuse or another once they were away from Imperial Center.
Checking his chronometer, the grand moff figured this would be one of the longest waits of his life.
It felt like it had been a lifetime since Obi-Wan had been in the Invariant Beauty. The last time he and Siri had flown with Al was when they were returning to Imperial Center at the end of the final recess. Things were so different now.
They'd been in hyperspace for at least two hours. Siri had spent her time reviewing schematics of lightsaber hilts while Al had puttered about here and there, letting out nervous energy through snacking on whatever compound passed for food on the ship and writing math proofs on any spare surface. Qui-Gon meditated upstairs in the guest area. Obi-Wan decided it was probably better to join the Jedi Master than get run over by Al's frantic maneuvering or get roped into another idea for how to quickly make a lightsaber hilt whilst fleeing from Imperials.
Climbing the ladder, Obi-Wan found the Master sitting in the center of the room, his eyes closed. Despite his best efforts to be quiet, Qui-Gon still sensed him, saying, "Your thoughts are lingering on the past."
Obi-Wan sighed, closing the hatch to the ladder behind him. "It's difficult not to, Master."
Qui-Gon opened his eyes, smiling gently. "Keep your mind here and now where it belongs, Obi-Wan. Let the past mind itself."
Obi-Wan nodded in acknowledgement, but it wasn't easy to ignore his lingering thoughts and they both knew it. The Jedi Master only had to give an inviting gesture and Obi-Wan immediately sat beside him. Taking a calming breath, he allowed Qui-Gon to ease him into meditation through the training bond.
Keep your mind here and now. Here and now. The only thing he sensed in the currents of the Force here and now was Siri's restlessness, Al's nervousness, and his own emotions… melancholy? Reluctance? Did he even know what he was feeling? What was really bothering him?
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
To release one's emotions, a Jedi had to know his emotions. Obi-Wan furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what he was feeling.
Padmé.
Obi-Wan's eyes opened abruptly. Blast it, he couldn't think about that right now. That wasn't concentrating on the present, right? Deep down, though, he knew she was the root of all his issues, in the present and undoubtedly in the future. He had to let go. He had to let her go.
He wasn't ready for that.
His meditation was interrupted suddenly when he heard Al over the intercom. "We're about to exit hyperspace. Everybody needs to strap in now; I've got to do some fancy flying to avoid the orbital station."
Qui-Gon stood gracefully and headed for the hatch, pausing and waiting for Obi-Wan. The stark switch between meditation and reality left him a little dizzy as he stood and followed the man. Once Obi-Wan was in the main living space again he went straight to Siri, sitting beside her on the couch and strapping in. Qui-Gon sat to his other side.
Siri looked at him determinedly. "You ready?"
"I suppose that's irrelevant by now," Obi-Wan muttered just as he heard the hyperdrive disengage.
Al's 'fancy flying' wasn't as harrowing as Obi-Wan suspected it might have been, for which he was very grateful; he wasn't fond of getting stuck in a space battle. Within five minutes they entered the atmosphere and were preparing to land. Obi-Wan felt himself get pushed harshly into the sofa by gravity before everything eased off. As everyone unstrapped and stood, Al entered and pulled out a hologram of Ilum. Zooming in, he pointed out where they were, and Qui-Gon took it from there.
"The garrison here is small and has to cover many crystal caverns," he told them. "Your safest approach will be to the south. The caves there are hardly guarded. Be careful, though; the Imperials are the least of your concerns. Remember your training."
What did that mean? Before Obi-Wan could ask, though, Qui-Gon walked to the landing ramp and opened it. "Go. May the Force be with you."
Siri nodded and tossed a glance at Obi-Wan, bidding him to follow her. He did so without an argument, but Qui-Gon's words hung heavily over him.
As soon as they exited, the freezing wind blasted through the layers of clothing they were wearing. Obi-Wan pulled his scarf up tighter around his mouth and nose and he heard Siri gasp at the intensity of the wind. The two didn't dare speak, too intent on avoiding Imperial attention. They followed Qui-Gon's advice and headed south. The area was bleak; everything was white or stony grey. The air felt strange here, though that was likely the Force. He wasn't sure what it was, but he could tell Siri felt it too. It was almost like there were ghostly presences in the Force… he wasn't sure what it was, but a thought occurred to him: they were echoes, imprints left behind by thousands of previous Jedi who had come here. As soon as this thought came to mind, Obi-Wan was stunned with the sudden intense history of this place, and he marveled at how this small, icy world served as a central part of thousands of years of Jedi tradition. For the first time since their training had begun, he felt like a Jedi, he felt like he was actually a part of the Order.
It didn't take long before the caverns entered their sight. A small bunker was also nearby, but when Obi-Wan tentatively reached into the Force, he didn't think he sensed any life presence ahead. Motioning to his wife, the two slowly made their way to the cave, and when they were barely a few meters away Siri made a mad dash, causing Obi-Wan to hastily follow. Once they were inside the wind finally ceased to be a problem and they pulled back their hoods, goggles, and scarves.
The cave seemed innocuous at first; it was mainly ice and stone. Obi-Wan wasn't quite sure how large the crystals would be or where they would find them. Apart from saying what was safe from Imperials, Qui-Gon hadn't honestly told them much. Siri exhaled, and her breath hovered as mist in front of her mouth. "Well, I guess we should head deeper."
Obi-Wan nodded, and the two slowly went further into the cave. As they walked, Siri whispered, "How many Jedi do you think have been here?"
"An innumerable amount, I suppose," he replied, once again in awe of the situation.
Siri took a deep breath, confident and content with the thought. Apparently she felt the same way he did about this, and it was relaxing. Obi-Wan had spent so much time wondering whether he should have begun this training, whether being a Jedi was actually the right choice, whether he could manage it… and now he finally felt like he belonged, like this was the right thing to do.
As the couple continued their trek, the light from the outside started to dim, and Obi-Wan grew slightly worried. He had a glow stick with him and a compass, but there were other concerns as well, such as adequate oxygen if they really did go too far in. And he still wasn't sure what they were looking for. Siri seemed to be growing slightly nervous as well, but she continued to press onward.
Eventually they reached a fork in the cave. They immediately paused.
"Which way should we go now?" Siri asked, glancing uncertainly from one passage to the other.
"I'm not sure. Perhaps we're supposed to meditate on it?" Obi-Wan suggested halfheartedly.
"Meditating won't help us here," Siri rolled her eyes. "I'm glad you find it useful, but in real situations like this it isn't going to do much. We just have to decide."
"We could get very lost, Siri. We have to put some consideration into this. Besides, we can sense the history of this place; perhaps the Force can give us some indication as to where the previous Jedi went?"
Siri silently pondered the matter before replying. "I just don't see it giving us much; our senses aren't that attuned to the Force yet. But… Obi, I think our bond's improving pretty well, don't you?"
Obi-Wan eyed her suspiciously. "Why do you say that?"
"I think we should split up."
"No," he immediately shook his head. "That's the last thing we should do."
"We can't linger here too long, you know," Siri argued, facing him fully. "What if Imperials patrol inside the caves?"
"We would have run into a patrol by now if that were the case."
"They might come later. The point is that we're supposed to do this quickly."
"We're also supposed to come back in one piece," Obi-Wan stressed.
"Obi, I don't know what to tell you," Siri sighed. "I just have this gut feeling that we need to split up. We can cover more ground that way, and we can find each other through our bond."
Well… there was some logic to her argument, but he still didn't like it. Nevertheless, Siri didn't look like she'd take any more protests from him.
Obi-Wan held back a groan of exasperation and worry. "Fine. But we set a time limit and then we head back here."
Siri pulled her sleeve back to access her chronometer. "Fine. Half an hour."
Obi-Wan viewed the time and nodded. The two silently exchanged well wishes and promised to return at the designated time, and then Siri vanished into the darkness of the left passage. Obi-Wan shuddered, trying not to see any symbolism in that. Taking a calming breath, he faced his own passage fully and strode forward. The cave grew steadily darker and darker until he almost pulled out his glow stick when a strange, eerie light became visible ahead. Walking slowly, he reached for his blaster, which was securely sitting in its holster on his right leg, but the usual hair raising sensation of danger wasn't present. Instead, the air felt strangely warm, and when he rounded the corner, he froze in place.
"Padmé?" he gasped.
Before him stood his little sister, looking as healthy as ever. She was dressed in all white, bundled in many layers just as he was. Her brown eyes lit up as she smiled warmly upon seeing him. This… this couldn't be real. This couldn't be real. How was… she… there was no way…
"Padmé…" he repeated, unable to say anything coherent.
"It's all right, Obi," she said, taking a slow step towards him. "Follow me."
Follow? What? "Padmé, wha—wait!"
His sister didn't wait for a reply. Instead, she dashed in another direction, and Obi-Wan ran as hard as he could to keep up. His heart was racing faster than it ever had been; how could Padmé be alive? How could she be here? This didn't make sense—his head was spinning, he couldn't put anything together, he couldn't think straight.
Obi-Wan rounded another corner and suddenly Padmé wasn't even in sight. Instead, he saw Siri sitting on the ground, her eyes blankly staring at her hands. The air grew cold in an instant.
"Siri?" Slowly approaching his wife, Obi-Wan noted how slumped over she was. He immediately grew concerned, even more so when he didn't sense anything from her. He dropped to his knees beside her, shaking her, and as soon as he touched her she crumped to the ground. Her blank eyes were fixed upon nothing, and her frozen expression held pain and terror. Her muscles were slightly stiff… stiff… rigor mortis… she was… the baby… no, no, no, no!
"The price of attachment."
Obi-Wan gasped, whirling around to see his other sister, Sola, watching him. Wait—Sola? What?
Sola narrowed her eyes accusingly. "You let us go. The ones who raised you, who grew up with you, who were always there for you. You just dropped us in a heartbeat as soon as Padmé died. But Siri… you stayed with her. You were still attached to her. You should have abandoned her like you did us, Obi. She might still be alive. Attachment only leads to suffering."
"Sola…" Obi-Wan said her name, but by now he was quickly realizing that he probably hadn't seen anyone, especially when he looked back at his wife to see that she had vanished. He looked back at his sister. She looked so real… by the stars, he even almost sensed her… at least he thought he did. His senses were strangely muddled all of a sudden, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to detect anything at this point. No. No, he refused to accept this as real; it made no logical sense for Padmé to be alive, for Sola to be here, for Siri to be… to be…
"Even when you tried to invest energy in attachments it failed you."
Obi-Wan looked and saw Padmé approach behind their sister. She was no longer in attire that matched the climate, but in her funeral gown. Obi-Wan felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. He couldn't see her in that outfit. Not again.
Padmé glared at him. "You knew. You knew that I wasn't in my right mind, that I was putting myself at risk by my interactions with Éothen and Vader. But you didn't do anything about it. You just let it happen."
"I didn't mean to!" Obi-Wan immediately yelled back, frustrated and hurt and confused beyond belief. He didn't even know why he was yelling at something that was obviously not real, and he was even more unnerved by the fact that he was hallucinating. Was this even a hallucination? Was it something external to him? Was this what Qui-Gon had meant when he'd said the Imperials were the least of their concerns?
"It doesn't matter what you meant, what matters is what happened!" Padmé snarled at him. "I died because of you, because you were too distant, too hesitant! Your indecision killed me, Obi-Wan! If you'd just stopped it from the beginning, if you'd just gotten me off Imperial Center, this would have never happened!"
Obi-Wan didn't have an argument. He couldn't argue. Everything she said was exactly true, it was what had been eating him alive in that private corner of his mind that he wouldn't allow anyone else to see. It had been killing him ever since her funeral; he knew his indecision culminated in her death. Obviously there were many factors, but if he'd just been firmer, if he'd protected her more, things may have turned out differently.
Jedi do not deal in what-if scenarios. Let the past mind itself. Qui-Gon's steady voice rumbled in Obi-Wan's mind, and he took a shaky breath. He tried to reason it out in his mind, he tried to tell himself that it was over, that it didn't matter anymore, but he couldn't lie to himself. It did matter that he was partly to blame for his sister's death, and no Jedi teaching would tell him otherwise!
He still tried though. By the stars, he tried. "Padmé, I… how was I supposed to know? I didn't have all the information! Why couldn't you just tell me everything that was on your mind?"
"I tried! You shut me down!"
"I was trying to stop it before it got worse!" Obi-Wan snapped, completely ignoring the fact that he was yelling at a figment of his imagination. "I tried to put a stop to it! I tried!"
Do or do not. There is no try.
Obi-Wan paused. Staring at Padmé in that gown, that awful gown, he finally felt himself grow cold, grow so inexplicably cold. He closed his eyes, he tried to seal himself off from the anguish that filled him, but he couldn't. There was no one to play to here, no audience for whom he had to maintain a façade. He felt the sobs come in small gasps before he finally slid to the floor, covering his face with one hand and trembling from head to foot. The more he cried, the worse he seemed to feel, the more he thought about how in his trying to help her he'd essentially done nothing to help her. He'd failed in protecting his sister. He'd failed. The words ate into his mind, it consumed his heart, his soul, and he felt like he couldn't breathe.
There is no emotion; there is peace.
Kriff the Jedi and their Code! How the blazes was he supposed to not feel—
Obi-Wan bit his tongue and squeezed his eyes shut, immediately shutting down the internal argument before it could start. Getting angry over the situation would do nothing; he knew that before he'd ever received Jedi training. But now, with his knowledge of his abilities and the Code, he had an even greater responsibility. He had to remember that; he had to remember that life still moved on after Padmé's death, no matter whose fault it was. The galaxy still needed the Jedi, his wife and child needed him, and he had to respond to that call, no matter how exhausted he felt.
After taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan tried to clear his mind and just let the anger leave. He didn't linger on it. He just focused on how he had a mission to complete. The more he thought on this, the emptier he felt, but then a strange warmth filled him. It was subtle, soft… he couldn't have felt it in the heat of his emotions, in the chaos of the previous moment. It flowed through him and washed him clean.
Do or do not. There is no try.
He had done everything he could. And as soon as he realized that, he exhaled deeply, bending forward so much that his forehead touched the cold floor, and the pain slipped out of him like the dam he built up finally burst, but it didn't ravage him; it just left.
He had done everything he could. There was nothing more to be done, nothing more to be said, nothing more to calculate or speculate or anything. He'd done what he could, and Padmé had made her choice. She was dead now. She was gone. He had to let her go. He had to let her go.
Standing, Obi-Wan looked at his sister as she glared at him with hatred. It hurt for a moment, and then he let that go as well. This was just a vision, a ghost of someone who was already gone. He couldn't let himself get upset about this. There is no emotion; there is peace. "I'm sorry, Padmé. I'm sorry for what happened to you. But there's nothing more I can do for you. Leave."
"You're just going to forget about me?!" she shouted.
Obi-Wan smiled sadly… tiredly. "I will never forget you. You will always be my dear sister. But you're gone, Padmé. It does no one any good to linger on it. So I won't. I have to look after the living."
Padmé's contorted expression slowly softened, and she looked down as if suddenly realizing he was right, as if suddenly remembering that she was in fact dead and would never be with him again. Her eyes filled with tears, and it nearly broke Obi-Wan's heart.
"I'll see you again someday," he whispered. "But not now. Not for a while."
Padmé nodded, tears freely falling down her face. "Goodbye, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan felt the lump in his throat almost prevent him from speaking, but eventually choked out, "Goodbye, Padmé."
His sister vanished into the darkness.
In the other cavern, Siri was having similar difficulties, though she'd yet to see Padmé. Instead, she first ran into Al's body on the floor, shot up by blaster fire. She'd been in shock until she'd realized that Al would have no reason to follow her.
Then things only grew worse. When she continued to walk ahead, desperately trying to push the image of her friend's mangled body out of her mind, she saw that kriffing handmaiden, Lek Ieru. Jumping, Siri immediately reached for her blaster and fired off several shots, but the false handmaiden dodged them easily, narrowing her slender eyes and pulling out a knife. Siri avoided the attacks, but for some reason the handmaiden moved faster than was possible, and the next thing Siri knew she was in a grapple and she was thrown to the floor.
Yelling out, Siri winced as her head hit a rock and throbbed painfully. The handmaiden stood over her, ready for the final blow. Siri kicked out fiercely, trying desperately to get away from her, but the handmaiden, though hit by the attack, retaliated with a stomp to Siri's abdomen causing her to shout out in pain and terror. Leaping up, Siri knocked the handmaiden into the wall and pulled the knife from her tight grip before plunging it into the woman's throat. Warm crimson blood trickled over her fingers, wrist, and arm, and it dripped onto the floor into a puddle. The handmaiden gazed at her in shock before suddenly smiling—smiling—and saying, "This will be your downfall."
How could she even speak with a knife in her throat?!
"You enjoyed the kill."
Siri gasped, whirling around. She knew that voice.
Darth Vader stood in front of her, calm as always. Unnervingly, though, he had blood all over him; it covered his face, neck, and hands, and it stained his clothes. His eyes were a sickly yellow. He gave her a lopsided grin. "Admit it. You enjoyed it. You'll do anything to protect your loved ones. Anything. Even tear them away from others who care for them. You isolated Obi-Wan; suddenly you had to be the only important one in his life. What will you do to the baby, I wonder?"
Siri could barely breathe. She took several steps away from him, terrified from the attack to the baby, her vicious retaliation against the handmaiden, and Vader's presence. How had the Sith gotten here? What was she going to do? How did he know so much? What about the—no, no, this couldn't be right, none of it. This couldn't be real.
"I didn't do it to isolate him," she argued before she could stop herself. "I was trying to protect his family. It had nothing to do with him."
"How will you protect your child, then?" Vader asked, walking towards her until he'd backed her into a corner. "What will you do to keep your youngling safe from the Empire? From me?"
Siri pulled out her blaster. "I'll fight to my last breath before I let you touch my child."
She was talking to a hallucination. She was talking to a blasted hallucination. She'd gone crazy.
"Attachment is a path to the Dark Side." Vader purred. "You'll be just like me."
Siri scoffed. "I want to protect my family because I love them, not because I'm obsessed and can't let go."
"Obviously," the Sith Lord said dryly. "You've done so well letting go of Padmé."
Siri fired. The shot went right through him. She was wasting ammo and time. This was ridiculous. But his words tore into her, and she was suddenly shaking with rage. "Don't you dare assume you know what's going on in my head!"
"You can't let her go, can you?"
"I can!"
"Then say it."
Siri paused, confusion temporarily pushing the anger aside. "Say what?"
"Say what happened to her. Admit it."
She was not going to get into this with an imaginary Sith Lord. "I don't have time for this."
"Always running from your fears," Vader remarked, crossing his arms. "You did everything in your power to make sure you were noticed when you were a youngling because you thought no one cared. Now you know people do, and you can't stand to lose them. Textbook. You'll be a Sith within a month."
Siri was about to cry out, to pull the knife out of the handmaiden's throat and thrust it into the bloodied Sith, but she stopped herself. This was pointless, and she couldn't get angry – anger was a hallmark of the Sith. Vader had to be a part of her trial here (unless she'd spontaneously lost her mind, of course), and if that were the case then she knew this was her own fears projected physically. She had to have time for this because, though she didn't want to admit it, he was right; she was terrified of losing anyone else.
There is no death; there is the Force.
The Force represented life. It was all around her. She could sense the entire universe if she put her mind to it. She would never be alone. The Jedi had been isolated and they'd survived and persevered. Blast it all, it was great to acknowledge that, but it wasn't the same—sensing her fellow Jedi wasn't the same as sensing Obi-Wan.
But the Jedi wanted her to let go. Apparently she had to let go in order to not be a Sith. Screw that – she wouldn't become a Sith, but she wasn't going to be heartless either. There had to be a happy medium. There had to be.
There is no death; there is the Force.
"But there is death," Vader reminded her. "It's all around you, and you can't stop it."
Something about his words struck her. He was right, after all – there was no stopping death. It would claim all of them eventually, even if nobody wanted to think about that. The universe didn't shatter when one person died; it moved on. They all moved on. Did they become one with the Force like the Jedi claimed they did? Blast it, she hoped not; she'd rather live on in some form after she died, not just vanish into a collective energy field with no thoughts and no feelings or anything. But no matter what happened, she did have to realize that Vader was right in this instance; death was inevitable. She couldn't run from it, nor could she run from the acceptance of it.
Siri took a shaky breath. "Padmé's… Padmé's dead… but she… she'll never be gone." Then she abruptly turned and ran away from the disturbing images, holding her abdomen lightly. The kick hadn't been real, right? All the pain from earlier vanished, and she felt slightly panicked, wondering what exactly was real in this cave and what wasn't. Had she and Obi-Wan even reached the cave? What the hell was going on?
Looking at her chronometer, Siri realized to her horror that twenty minutes had passed. Reaching into the Force, she tried to sense out her husband. Rushing ahead, Siri saw the cave splinter into more hallways, and she grew even more nervous. Feeling queasy, she stumbled into the darkness of one hall and felt a cold shiver run down her spine. Suddenly, the sound of a lightsaber activating emitted from behind her, and the area was bathed in crimson light. She whirled around, but instead of seeing Darth Vader again, Siri found herself face to face with the emperor, who held a red lightsaber and had a manic, predatory expression on his face. Yelling out, Siri immediately ran in the opposite direction – she wasn't a coward, but she also wasn't an idiot. There was no way she could hold her own against a Sith Master.
Siri ran as hard as her legs would allow for what felt like an eternity, yet every time she turned her head over her shoulder the emperor was still right on her heels. She began to feel her chest constrict, and she started to stumble. When she turned a sharp corner she impacted face first into something that felt strangely like a person. She heard a yelp that sounded like her husband's, and the Force sang with sudden familiarity. "Obi-Wan!"
"Siri?" he gasped. "Siri, did you—the emperor—"
"Yes!" she immediately answered his question before he could finish asking it. The hum of the Sith's lightsaber grew ever closer, and the two twisted in their place to see him ready to deliver the final blow, his yellowish eyes narrowing with hatred.
"You won't take my apprentice away from me!" The Sith swung his blade down upon the couple and the world turned black.
The Force rippled. It had been twenty-one wonderful years since the Dark Side had engulfed the galaxy and quenched the Light. When the clones had struck down their generals and commanders, Palpatine had basked in the bloodshed. The Dark Side had swelled, swallowing Imperial Center whole. In the year or so following, hatred and despair had been the dominant sensations, fueling him and finally allowing him to openly enjoy the desires he'd been hiding under the façade of a concerned, fatherly politician. And then, two years after the creation of the Empire, the Force had shuddered. Palpatine hadn't initially sensed it—he'd been a little busy causing the occurrence. Nevertheless, as the days had passed, he'd sensed more and more that some sort of nexus was developing, that the fabric of the universe had given its precious power into a flesh vessel. It had been that fact alone that had saved the unborn child – Palpatine had no interest in younglings, particularly from his slaves, but when he'd sensed such raw power—from a developing unborn child, no less!—he could not deny the innumerable possibilities.
When his son had been born, Palpatine had watched to ensure the birthing went well. After assuring the baby was healthy, he'd dismissed the doctor and midwives, and he'd taken care of loose ends. Skywalker had served her purpose, after all.
Honestly he hadn't seen the boy much after that, not until he was almost six months old, and that was only because there was a threat to the palace. Palpatine hadn't been concerned, but the increased security might have led to someone noticing a nanny droid taking care of a mysterious baby, and he wouldn't have that. He'd checked on the child for a fleeting moment, barely glancing at those blue eyes before calling for an Intelligence agent to watch the boy for a few days until the crisis was over. After all, why would he spare the boy a second glance? He meant nothing to him at that time; he'd been helpless, and though his potential was enormous, his actual usefulness was nonexistent at the time.
Palpatine still remembered the gaze. Vader had been only a mere six months old, and he had already held a cool gaze. It was strange, because once Palpatine had started to train his son at around the age of three or four (simple things, of course – stoking the flames of the boy's hatred, teaching him important morals, and other such matters; the physical training would have to wait until a few years later), Vader had shown great promise as a magnificent and violent Sith. The boy had had such a temper once provoked. He'd held a great amount of disdain, mistrust, and bore no warm emotion whatsoever. Palpatine had treated him as inferior, had insulted him again and again, and had pushed the boy to improve so he could no longer be unworthy but be the apprentice Palpatine wanted. The efforts were met with tears, with frustration, with temper tantrums and demolished rooms and screaming – it had been expected, and watching the boy's rudimentary skills with the Force had been interesting. But then the temper had cooled. The indifference was gone, but aloofness was back. Vader was suddenly unattached and clinging to him all at once, though the boy tried so hard to not show it, and Palpatine, admittedly, had not entirely noticed the shift before it was too late.
So it was absolutely bizarre to think that as a baby Vader had been remote, as if it had been a taste of what was to come. Palpatine still didn't know what had caused the actual change in the boy (he knew his motivation, yes, but not what had caused that motivation to come forth), though he supposed by now it was a moot point. In either case, that one moment had been the only time Palpatine had spent with his infant son; the next time he saw him was when Vader was almost three years old. He hadn't needed him up to that point. He hadn't cared about him up to that point.
The Sith Master sighed, trying not to think about how that opinion might have changed. Why should it have? He obviously had invested a lot of time into the youngling, but he'd also done so for many other minions and apprentices. Darth Vader was special due to his power, nothing more.
The Force rippled again. Palpatine sighed again. He'd been awoken very early that morning by a sudden surge of energy and intense emotion from his apprentice. The Dark Side had swelled, filled with despair and rage – it had been like the beginning years of the Empire all over again except it was concentrated into one individual. The fact that the boy could hold enough hatred to match a wronged galaxy was incredible, and Palpatine had marveled at it before prodding the bond to figure out what was happening. Vader's end of their bond, however, was sealed tightly – a trick the boy had learned very early in life. (Palpatine had once tried to break through the boy's mental defenses and it had left him with a headache and with a screaming youngling for the next three days – he'd decided not to try that again.) So he'd been left to brood and wonder, but he'd steadily been piecing the story together. He hadn't heard anything specific – he assumed Vader lost control of his emotions once more and some hapless civilian had fallen victim to him. There was no doubt to that. But what else had happened, and where was Vader now? That had been answered a few hours ago – Grand Moff Tarkin had requested an audience.
Palpatine had let the request linger, had refused to acknowledge it just yet. He was testing the man, checking to see how this played out. Nothing in the man's jurisdiction would be pressing enough for an audience with the emperor, so this had to do with Darth Vader. The Sith Master supposed Vader had gone to Tarkin, which was… interesting. Palpatine had been under the impression that Tarkin's interest in Vader as a means to power had only been recent – as soon as Vader had shown uncertainty and weakness before Amidala's death, Tarkin had become adamant about the boy's 'political training.' It was inevitable and expected. But for Vader to go to the grand moff in such dire circumstances… again, Palpatine shouldn't be surprised; his apprentice had often sought advice from the grand moff when he hadn't thought it prudent to approach the emperor himself. As time had passed their relationship had developed into something mutually functional and beneficial; Tarkin would give some advice on missions if the boy needed it, and Vader would aid the grand moff with his own affairs. But there had never been anything particularly threatening about the relationship until recently. Tarkin's manipulations were predictable, but Vader responding so readily to them was… worrying. The boy wasn't aware of the power play that was going on right under his nose – he didn't even realize he was the rope in this game of tug-of-war. The rope, however, was supposed to be passive, not playing right into Tarkin's hands.
That brought about several problems and possibilities. Of course, one amusing notion was that the Sith Master could allow Vader to remain with Tarkin and just see what the grand moff did, but that was suddenly becoming a little too threatening. Still, he had to know what the man was up to, so although he let Tarkin stew in in his plots, he finally granted him his audience. The doors opened, and the grand moff entered after being announced by the Red Guard. Once the man was down on one knee, Palpatine acknowledged him and he immediately got to the point.
"Your Imperial Majesty, I'm requesting that Lord Vader accompany me to my estate on Eriadu."
Palpatine leaned back in his seat, slightly surprised at the forwardness of this move. Was Tarkin convinced that he had Vader in his clutches now? It would be the only reason for such an obvious tactic; he wanted to take the young apprentice into his own territory where he could seal the boy's fate. Perhaps things had developed a little too far. How could matters have changed so quickly from simple plotting once Vader had begun to weaken to outright dragging him off Imperial Center? Tarkin was probably being overconfident, and the man's boldness would be almost amusing if it weren't for that tiny part of the mighty Sith Master that worried just a little too much for his apprentice.
Despite his concern, this development was actually rather welcome. After all, the past few years had been mainly dedicated to eradicating the Rebels, and though Palpatine was the expert of long games, it had grown tiresome. The Rebels were hardly a threat, and their arguments and efforts were pitiful in comparison to what the Sith had handled before. Nothing would top his manipulation and destruction of the Republic and the Jedi Order. Now that the Rebels were nonexistent, it was back to internal affairs, and the usual machinations that accompanied them. In most cases it was dull and tedious—bumbling fools pretending they had an iota of sense when they were nothing more than the dirt on the floor—but for some, like Tarkin, it was an actual enjoying experience. The man was intelligent and cunning – he could provide a good challenge. He would provide a fun challenge if it weren't for that pesky detail of using Palpatine's own apprentice against him.
The Force rippled a third time. The bond between father and son shifted and Palpatine sensed grogginess – the boy was finally waking up; he'd apparently been either exhausted to the point of passing out or sedated up to this point. Palpatine monitored the situation, but he dedicated most of his focus to the grand moff.
Smiling, the Sith Lord inquired, "You suddenly need to return home, governor?"
"I have a few affairs to handle, sire," Tarkin replied. Such a vague answer – was the man so confident that Palpatine would say yes? "It's nothing too pressing, but it has come to my attention that Lord Vader needs a… respite from Imperial Center."
Oh, this was interesting. He couldn't wait to hear why the governor thought so. "What do you mean?"
"Lord Vader… still needs to recover from his injuries," Tarkin answered carefully. "The physical and mental strain have been weighing on him, and I fear that the current climate on Imperial Center will not aid his healing."
It was a surprisingly honest answer. Palpatine could distinctly hear the unspoken words in the air, however… 'Lord Vader still needs to recover after you broke him.' It was written all over the man's face. How amusing – Tarkin had actually begun to care for the boy. It was far too late for that nonsense now. Palpatine would not let Vader fall into the man's hands when the boy was this vulnerable.
The emperor stood and approached Tarkin slowly. He prodded his bond to Vader once again and sensed that the boy was fully awake. "I agree with you, governor. Lord Vader does need time to recover… time away from Imperial Center." Tarkin looked almost hopeful, but Palpatine continued, "It so happens that I was looking for an opportunity to take a brief vacation as well. Lord Vader will accompany me."
Palpatine immediately sensed frustration and rage from the grand moff, as well as fierce protectiveness. This made him smile all the more. He drank up the feelings rolling off the man after his denial – Darth Vader was his, not Tarkin's, and he would ensure the grand moff understood that. Without letting the man get in another word, he dismissed him, saying he had other matters to attend to, and the grand moff practically stormed out of the room. Palpatine waited a few minutes before exiting the throne room as well, following the pulsing signature in the Force to its source.
Darth Vader was wandering aimlessly in the cavernous hallways of the main floor of the palace. His expression was empty, and the Force echoed that sentiment; the boy's signature almost seemed to be bleeding life, as if his spirit itself were fading away. Palpatine had allowed the boy time to reassemble his thoughts and sanity on his own over the past few days, but it was apparent that he would need some help – nudging him wasn't enough.
There were plenty of ways to incite some kind of reaction in him, but this time, the emperor didn't provoke him. He didn't have to; Vader sensed his presence a few seconds after his arrival (later than normal – was that his exhaustion or something else?) and faced him, bowing. Usually his mental shields went up tightly at this point, usually the Force would grow cold with his emotional restraint, but this time nothing changed – his life signature continued to bleed, dripping through the air like thick, icy liquid. The Dark Side swelled greedily, but Palpatine didn't join in the fun. Instead, he motioned with his arm for the boy to walk with him, and he was surprised at how easily his pleasure in the boy's pain disappeared in lieu of just breathing some life into him.
Darth Vader obeyed silently. Typically he would be curious and awaiting orders, but this time he just followed blindly, his mind blank. No worries, no concerns, no anger, no flashbacks to the senator's murder… just emptiness. How long had it been since he'd taken his usual morning walk? Since the murder? Since before the murder? He recalled that Vader had said he'd walked a little, but his reply hadn't been convincing, and seeing him now confirmed the weak lie.
The boy's walks usually helped him focus for the day. They usually centered him, served as a coping mechanism for the trials to come. The few times Palpatine had prodded the bond during the boy's walks, Vader had always been focused inward, tightly sealing his mind off to the universe; a bomb could have blown up nearby and he wouldn't have noticed. Somehow that time for rumination always helped, and so Palpatine sent a gentle suggestion through their bond, using the Force to persuade his apprentice to do the same routine. Mind tricks never worked on the strong minded, and Vader was the most stubborn person in the universe, but today he was a hollow shell, so vulnerable to suggestion that it was actually a little terrifying.
The two didn't talk. There was no need to. Vader slowly slipped into a strange state of being lost in thought but not lost in any particular thought. His mind floated in a daze, hovering from one thing to another without making sense of anything, and the bond grew hazy as a result. It was enough, though; it would at least give him some reprieve from his misery. That in itself would suffice until Palpatine planned things out more thoroughly.
The next half hour was spent guiding his dazed apprentice through the hall. The occasional prod or suggestion through their bond was enough to keep the boy content, but eventually Palpatine decided it was time to get some food. Walking towards the dining hall, Palpatine paused and gave a small command that Vader get something to eat, which the boy immediately acknowledged with a nod, departing.
The emperor watched him go, thinking about how he would let this play out. He had the perfect idea for his lost apprentice – it was summertime in the Lake Country on Naboo, and his personal retreat was the finest on the planet. It would be relaxing… and a lovely reminder of Vader's previous time there, though more subtle than the crime scene here.
But what about Tarkin? If he left the man to his own devices, the grand moff might come up with some new schemes, and as entertaining as the notion was, Palpatine suddenly didn't want to deal with it. Vader had been threatened, and that was the point where the game ended. Still, the boy took comfort in Tarkin's advice, and if Palpatine monitored him, he could figure out his plans… he supposed he could tolerate having Tarkin come along for the fun.
Nodding to himself, Palpatine left to arrange the matter with Intelligence – he didn't want this trip to be public knowledge. In the meantime, he would watch his apprentice closely; if they had enough time on Naboo, the boy would return able to manipulate all those who would dare try to manipulate him, including Grand Moff Tarkin.
So Papa Palps and good ol' Tarkin are digging their heels into the ground and yanking Vader's arms so hard they're going to dislocate them if they keep this up. Sigh. Still, I had to have a chapter where poor Obi and Siri finally dealt with their inner demons and started to improve instead of constantly brooding - also, writing about Jedi trials is always really fun. I could have gone on for eons with Ilum, lol.
(P.S. sorry if this chapter seemed incoherent or rambling - I think Vader's empty brain syndrome leaked into my head while writing this. Probably has something to do with studying for a final exam.)
Fun fact! When you're a baby, your relationship with your parents defines the kind of relationships you build later in life. There are 3 main attachment types: secure attachment, avoidant, and anxious. Secure means life is good between you and your parents as a baby, so you tend to understand how to make/have good relationships with people as an adult. Avoidant is when you're neglected by your parents as a baby and therefore are less likely to open up to people/trust them/have any meaningful relationships as an adult. Anxious/dependent attachment means you're constantly worried that someone will leave you, and you're very pushy in relationships. Guess which one our poor little Sithie is? (Sorry for the random psychology blurb - taking a psych class right now, lol)