Sorry for the wait, school is school. Enjoy! :)
The sun shone brightly, warming the city. Enormous crowds had already gathered outside the palace, cheering excitedly. He could hear them just beyond the large stairs leading to the plaza. He stood in the shadows, their calls echoing in his mind, feeling giddy with anticipation and joy and nervousness all at once.
And then he saw her.
Padmé stood in her new regalia, her face covered in the elaborate makeup used by the elected monarchs of Naboo. She wore a red gown and a massive headdress. The ensemble made her look so much older, so mature… but all he could see was the anxiety in her eyes, the twitch in her painted fingers, and the small gasps of air.
All he could see was his baby sister.
Nineteen-year-old Obi-Wan stepped out from behind a pillar as Padmé stared out into the plaza below, just outside of the crowd's view. The sun lit up her entire body as if a massive spotlight were trained on her. Her handmaidens hadn't arrived yet, but they would join her soon.
"Are you okay?" he asked quietly so as not to startle her.
Despite his attempt, Padmé still jumped, though she didn't face him; she seemed too scared she would mess up her headdress somehow or trip over her elaborate outfit. She barely turned her head, just enough to see him.
Obi-Wan did his best to hide a smirk of amusement, but his sister saw it anyway. "Oh, shut up. I already heard it from Siri – she said I'd get brain damage for wearing something this heavy… I'm kind of starting to agree with her."
Obi-Wan laughed and then coughed to cover it as his sister grew all the more indignant. "I'm sure there's some grand tradition to it all."
"There is, actually," Padmé replied. She looked like she wanted to move but was still too uncomfortable in her new regalia to do so.
Smiling, Obi-Wan approached her and walked in front of her, blocking the bright sun from her eyes. She gazed up at him, her face filled with happiness and terror all at once, filled with so much excitement, determination, and wonder. Obi-Wan was happy for her… but he was scared, too. He was so blasted scared.
"I'm very proud of you," he said seriously, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Enjoy today. You've earned it."
His sister smiled sweetly. "Thanks. Do you… do you think I'll make a good queen?"
"Assuming you listen to your far wiser brother, yes," Obi-Wan answered, his eyes twinkling.
Padmé scrunched her nose in reply, and Obi-Wan chuckled. She retorted, "And where will I find my far wiser brother when I need advice? Smooching with his girlfriend in the gardens?"
Obi-Wan blushed. "That was once!"
His sister smiled mischievously, annoying him. Cheeky little princess. No… not a princess anymore. Obi-Wan felt the nervousness return, and he tightened his grip on his fourteen-year-old sister's shoulders. "Padmé… you have your heart in the right place. You always have. Just… be careful. Promise me you'll be careful."
Padmé's smile diminished, and she grew somber. Nodding, she said, "I promise."
Obi-Wan felt warmth envelop him, hotter than anything that the sun could provide. He knew she'd keep her promise. Padmé was so young, too young to be taking on the mantle of queen. She wasn't the youngest to ever rule, but… he worried about her. He knew she'd say he worried too much, but honestly Padmé seemed to be the only one who wasn't concerned. Their parents, Sola… even Siri was anxious. But he trusted his sister. He knew she'd listen to him, and her words were all the reassurance he needed. He leaned forward, kissing her tenderly on the forehead.
Padmé gasped slightly, pulling back. "Obi! You'll ruin my makeup!"
Obi-Wan couldn't stop the bark of a laugh that escaped his lips. Then he smirked reassuringly, stepping away from her. "Oh don't worry – I'll just be walking around with white lipstick is all."
"But what if there's a kiss mark or something?"
"A kiss mark?" Obi-Wan repeated, thoroughly entertained. "Sweet sister, that has an entirely different name… and you typically don't find it on someone's face."
Padmé stared at him blankly, completely lost and oblivious. Obi-Wan reveled in it. Growing annoyed, she shoved him slightly. "You're making fun of me."
Obi-Wan looked behind his sister to see the handmaidens approaching. He locked eyes with Siri, who nodded as if to ask if Padmé was ready. Obi-Wan tipped his head in reply, and then he looked at Padmé once more. "Perhaps, but it is a brother's prerogative."
"I could have you arrested, you know," Padmé challenged, though the threat was greatly reduced when she giggled.
"There's no law against being an irritating sibling. In fact, I dare say the laws of nature insist upon such behavior."
Padmé groaned. Her handmaidens lined up around her, and a noble approached, preparing to present her to the people. Obi-Wan backed away, smiling brightly and giving his sister every reassurance he could. She composed herself wonderfully—and so quickly, too—and closed her eyes for a second. In the next moment, she walked to the top of the stairs and the crowd's cheers soared through the air.
The cold bit at his ears and nose, but the rest of his body was strangely warm. His back felt stiff, and he sensed his wife's presence beside him. Exhaling deeply, Obi-Wan opened his eyes, pushing the stray dream and memory away. He used to feel some sort of pain or ache when he had such memories dredged up, but lately it only left him empty and drained.
"You okay?"
Obi-Wan twisted in the small bed to look at his wife, who apparently was already awake, a data pad in her hand. Judging from the circles under her eyes, she might not have slept at all.
"I think the better question is are you okay?" Obi-Wan rebutted softly.
"I… couldn't sleep," she muttered, looking away. "What you said about Vader and Padmé… I kept wondering what she went through that night. If she really did love him, what did she feel when he pulled a blaster on her? Scared? Betrayed? Did she even have time to feel anything?"
"Siri… it's best not to dwell on it," Obi-Wan remarked, though he would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about such scenarios before he'd known who the actual killer was.
"Yeah, yeah," Siri sighed, sitting up slightly and leaning against the pillows. "But it just wouldn't let me sleep."
Obi-Wan was tempted to argue that she needed her rest, but he knew it was pointless; it wasn't as if Siri herself wasn't aware of the fact. She would sleep when she could clear her mind. Instead, he motioned to the data pad. "What are you reading?"
"What's left of the Jedi archives," Siri answered, scrolling through the contents. "I've never been a huge academic, but reading about the history of the Jedi Code is… interesting."
"Really?" Obi-Wan asked as he twisted his back to get the kinks out. He wasn't particularly invested in the conversation but he was willing to humor her.
"There was an earlier form of the code," Siri explained, looking at her husband.
Obi-Wan inherently sensed her exhaustion, her pain. The thought of what Padmé had endured hadn't just been keeping her up; it had been eating her alive.
"Siri…" he began carefully, touching her hand in concern.
His wife knew what he was going to say before he could ever find the right words to say it. She pulled her hand away coldly, suddenly agitated. "I can't be angry at Darth Vader because it's against being a Jedi. Because he's apparently too screwed up to blame, which is—I don't know, I mean I get that he's this shell of nothing but—but blast it that doesn't change the fact that he still chose to kill Padmé, he wasn't programmed to do it and couldn't stop himself, and I don't give a damn about his age; you can be as shocked as you want about his age and skill, but we've been considered adults since we were twelve years old, so that isn't an excuse. But no—Jedi aren't allowed to hate, and I don't want revenge… just justice. But I can't hate him. I won't hate him. Jedi aren't allowed to.
"I can't even be angry about it, feel frustrated over what's happened. It's pointless, right? I can't think about how I could have fixed the situation, I can't imagine how I could have done something because Jedi don't deal in what-if scenarios. And I can't mourn Padmé either – it isn't the Jedi way to mourn the dead. We're supposed to rejoice for them because they dissolve into nothingness, which is a kriffing stupid belief to have, by the way.
"No, I can't feel anything, I have to move on… but every godsforsaken time I try to move on some new development comes up that drags us back to her! I felt some pity for that man and then I find out he's the one who killed her! We have her killer in a cell!
"And she loved him! She was such a poor idiot to fall in love with Darth Vader, to want to help him, and now Qui-Gon is doing the same damn thing! This isn't about getting information, this isn't about using him to help the Alliance… this is about fixing him, and you and I both know that you can't fix somebody—they have to help themselves!"
"Qui-Gon wants me to gain his trust so we can get information from him," Obi-Wan tried to argue, though even he knew how hollow his words were; he himself had suspected by now that Qui-Gon was trying to convert Vader over to the Light Side. It wasn't… a terrible prospect, he supposed, and it could still serve a purpose, but…
"Qui-Gon doesn't even know him! Has never dealt with him apart from beating him in battle!" Siri rebutted, stiffening. The air in the room seemed to move as if a wind was stirring up, and Obi-Wan sensed it was Siri's impact on the Force around her.
Just like Vader…
Feeling his heart rate rise, Obi-Wan placed his hand on Siri's shoulder, trying to calm her. "Siri, please, don't get angry."
"Or what?" his wife nearly yelled. "The Dark Side will come like some bogeyman and kidnap me?"
Despite his best efforts, Obi-Wan felt his own ire begin to rise. "You've sensed the Dark Side, Siri. You've felt it around Palpatine, around Vader. You know it exists."
"I never said it didn't." Siri shook her head, at least managing to lower her voice, though her frustration was still clear in her fierce eyes. "But I've gotten angry before. So have you. We've felt passion before. We've loved, we've lived. Does that make us Sith?"
"We didn't have training," Obi-Wan stressed. "We weren't aware of our ability to use the Force. That knowledge alone makes us dangerous without discipline. I can already sense it in you."
"What difference does it make that we know we can use the Force?" Siri demanded.
"Siri, you wanted to be a Jedi," Obi-Wan said, trying a different tactic as he steadily lost his patience.
"I wanted to defend those who couldn't defend themselves," Siri nodded. "I wanted to help those in need. I wanted to bring down the Empire."
"Jedi are keepers of peace. The only reason they fight is because they have no other choice." Obi-Wan said curtly. "Have you learned nothing over the past few weeks?"
Siri shot to her feet. "At least I'm questioning it! You just bow down and lick Qui-Gon's boots! You take everything he says at face value!"
"I was the one who was reluctant to join the Order." Obi-Wan said, his voice growing sharp. "You were all too eager to join their ranks, to be able to run around the galaxy swinging a lightsaber without knowing what it even meant. We both accepted the responsibility of being Padawans. We cannot pick and choose our beliefs, Siri. If we are to be Jedi, then we must live as Jedi. We're too powerful and too dangerous to do anything else. You can kill people with your power, do you even understand that? Do you want to become Vader?"
Siri flinched as if something he'd said had cut to her core, but her brow remained furrowed in defiance. "I won't become Darth Vader."
Obi-Wan watched his wife long and hard. For the first time in his life he felt a sickening fear grip him like no other; the fear of losing one's life or losing a loved one didn't compare to the sheer terror of watching a loved one become something grotesque and twisted. He had faith in his wife, but saying she could handle this herself was as foolish as saying she was perfect… it was as foolish as the assumption he'd made with Padmé.
"Really?" he asked quietly.
Both spouses remained silent for a long moment, their eyes boring into each other's souls. The Force was thick with tension, and the friction caused the hair on the back of Obi-Wan's neck to stand up. He felt his insides freeze like they had when he was with Vader, but he knew it was from his own cold resolve rather than from anything Siri exuded. His bond with his wife was thin all of a sudden, unconsciously clamped shut by both parties.
Siri closed her eyes, sighing heavily, and the tension ebbed away. "Obi, I'm a lot of things… but I will never be a Sith. I may get angry. I may even have the urge to kill the man who murdered my best friend. But I will never act on it. I won't give in to any of the temptations… but you can't deny the fact that there are temptations. I'm not an island. I'm not a droid. I feel just as much as anyone else. Surely they can understand that, and if not them… you can."
"No one ever said Jedi can't feel," Obi-Wan shook his head, walking towards her. "Everyone has emotions, but it is a Jedi's responsibility to release those emotions, to not let them dictate their actions."
"No." Siri immediately replied. "No. They've forgotten their own history."
Obi-Wan paused in mid step, confused. "What do you mean?"
"I told you, I was researching the Jedi Code," Siri explained. As she did so, the Force finally settled into its usual gentleness, lapping around the couple and intertwining them with soft tendrils built over years of interaction, years of laughter, adventure, concern, and love. "The code didn't used to be phrased the way it is. It used to say emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force. It used to acknowledge that we're people."
Obi-Wan was silent, marveling at the discovery. It was a mild alteration from the modern Code, but it was massively different, just as Siri had noted. It sounded like something Qui-Gon would say, but certainly not any of the other Jedi he'd met.
"Why would they change it?" he asked softly.
Siri shook her head. "I don't know. But this… I can live by this. Not that emotionless rhetoric they spout. We have lived by this already. Emotion, yet peace: we have emotions, but we don't let them control us. Ignorance, yet knowledge: we realize we don't know everything, so we strive to learn more. Passion, yet serenity: we have passions, but when the time comes to get to work, we don't let them get in the way, we don't let them affect the job. Chaos, yet harmony: there's no denying that where there are people, there is chaos… but we strive to bring harmony to it. Death, yet the Force: people die; always have and always will. But the Force lives on, and we have to hold on to that realization."
Obi-Wan exhaled slowly through his nose, stroking his growing beard. He wasn't sure what to say.
"I never said I was angry," Siri finally sighed, sitting on the bed once more. "I just wanted to vent, I just wanted to point out that I am kriffing trying but the Jedi are one extreme and the Sith the other… and I can't be an extreme. I'm me, and I can try to adjust that as best as possible to fit my new responsibilities, but I can't be some droid. And I don't understand what we're doing with Vader."
"All we're doing right now is getting him to trust us," Obi-Wan eventually said softly, growing worn out once more at the prospect. He slowly sat beside his wife.
"For what purpose?"
Obi-Wan stared at his hands tiredly. "I… suppose to help him."
Siri scoffed, burying her face in her hands.
"If he could be turned he would be a valuable asset," Obi-Wan suggested.
"That's the biggest if I've ever heard."
"Siri, I don't know what to tell you. Originally this was to figure out why he was listening to me, to figure out if we could use it to our advantage, but—"
"So order him to tell you what we need to know!" Siri interrupted. "Positions of Imperial bases, fleets, who to hit next, where all the VIPs are, anything, everything!"
"I told you last night that he wouldn't do so—he's too…" Obi-Wan shook his head, gesturing with his hands to find the right word. "Broken. The only time I seem to get genuine reactions out of him is when I accidentally upset him. That is why I have to earn his trust."
"So he can be Qui-Gon's pet project," Siri muttered darkly.
"Siri, if our choices can lead us to the Dark Side, then surely they can lead us from it and into the Light, right?" Obi-Wan offered, trying to justify his own actions while also defending their master; the man had to know what he was doing. He was far more experienced than them, had endured more than them, had been a Jedi Master for decades… Obi-Wan wasn't blindly following him as Siri had suggested earlier; he just acknowledged the man had more wisdom than he did. He respected that. He chose to listen to Qui-Gon… even if he did question some of the man's decisions and motives. He wasn't foolish enough to not notice the Jedi Master's near obsession over the Sith, but he couldn't let that taint his own view on the matter. "Given his circumstances, I doubt he was ever offered that choice."
"You think Padmé didn't offer him that choice?" Siri snapped.
Obi-Wan sighed, mulling it over. Slowly, he reasoned out, "Padmé… was always running headfirst into a problem. She wasn't completely foolhardy, but when her emotions became involved… she didn't think it through, Siri. She didn't think it through. How can anyone expect a man to overcome however many years of brainwashing he endured over the course of a few weeks?"
"So what you're saying is it'll take us years to get through to him?" Siri surmised, crossing her arms.
Force, I hope not. "I'm saying it will take more time than she had. Padmé already laid the foundation; Vader listens to me because of her, after all. We just need to work with that."
"So that's her legacy, then," Siri remarked. "That's why she had to die."
"I'm not going to philosophize as to why she had to die," Obi-Wan shook his head, getting his bearings in this dizzying conversation. "I'm simply saying that Vader's behavior is a result of her actions. We can respect her legacy by continuing her work."
Siri looked him in the eye for a few seconds. "You don't like this idea, do you?"
Obi-Wan looked away, unable to maintain eye contact. Their bond rippled, and his uncertainty no doubt trickled into his wife's mind. "I have my reservations… but it's not my decision to make. Padmé started it, and wiser people than I think we can finish it. And even if they don't… it's pointless to not try – no one else can speak with him. He'll rot in there unless we do something, and then no one will benefit."
Siri sighed slowly, leaning her head on his shoulder. She slipped her hand into his, squeezing it.
"We need to be on the same side, Siri," Obi-Wan said quietly, closing his eyes and feeling his wife's presence beside him. He could faintly sense his youngling too; the baby's signature was growing stronger every day.
"I know," Siri acknowledged, giving his hand another squeeze. "I know."
The couple remained this way for what felt an eternity. Obi-Wan basked in the peace around him, allowing his wife's presence to carry him through the currents of the Force without a care. Buzzing noises of life forms drifted just outside of the perimeter of his consciousness, barely white noise in the background, but as time passed they grew steadily louder, garnering his attention. Obi-Wan opened his eyes and stood. He had to go.
"You heading to the detention block?" Siri asked softly.
"No," he replied. "I need to clear my head. I'm going to train for a little while."
He felt her smile. "I'm surprised you aren't going to meditate."
"As I recall, that's your assignment," Obi-Wan fired back with a twinkle in his eye.
"I haven't forgotten," Siri said in a tone that denoted slight exasperation and amusement. "I'm aware that my actions yesterday weren't exactly the best, even if Vader deserved a good beating."
"Don't forget to sleep. I've heard it's important, you know." Obi-Wan added.
Siri stood and walked over to face him. "I won't. I need the energy to babysit you and our daughter."
"Still convinced it's a girl, I see."
"It is a girl."
"I won't argue the point."
"Smart man."
Obi-Wan huffed in good humor and Siri smiled, hugging him briefly. As soon as she released him she sat on the bed, getting ready to meditate for a while.
Obi-Wan headed to the refresher, cleaning himself up and dressing for the day. He sought out Qui-Gon first, sensing the man's reassuring presence through the Force. Following it, Obi-Wan wandered into one of the hangars retrofitted into a training area for the Jedi. There was a good number of initiates, Padawans, and Knights already there training; Obi-Wan glanced at his chronometer and noticed with surprise that it was almost noon.
"Good morning, Padawan," Qui-Gon greeted, approaching him.
"Master, forgive my tardiness," Obi-Wan immediately said with a small bow.
Qui-Gon gave him a warm smile. "It's all right, Obi-Wan. Yesterday was a very long day; I myself only just arrived."
Yes, yesterday was indeed a long day… and this morning equally long. Obi-Wan pushed the thought aside.
Qui-Gon guided Obi-Wan through some katas and then watched him spar with other Padawans. After about an hour, though, his master paused his training session.
"It's time you speak with Darth Vader," he said.
Well, he supposed he could only avoid the inevitable for so long. Resigning himself to his fate, Obi-Wan bowed and departed. He was starving, having skipped breakfast, so he figured that would be a good starting point. Heading to the mess hall, Obi-Wan grabbed some brunch for both himself and Vader; he doubted the guards had brought the Sith Lord any food.
Obi-Wan passed freely into the viewing area outside the cell, and the guards moved aside for him to enter. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside. Vader was sitting on the floor, leaning against the back wall. The jacket Obi-Wan had provided was still around his shoulders. He looked worse for wear, unnaturally pale and somehow hollow, as he had been last night. The air was still chillier than anywhere else in the base, but it somehow warmed a little when the Sith looked up. The room was beginning to smell; Vader was provided a small toilet but no shower, and the strong scents of sweat, blood, bacta, and burnt flesh permeated the air.
Obi-Wan coughed a little and prodded the Force, sensing some anguish but mainly… nothing. The room was filled with Vader's presence, but he couldn't really pinpoint any particular emotion or sensation to it. He was just… existing. A bit of dread filled the pit of his stomach, and some sort of urgency led him to walk over to the boy.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
Vader stared at him bleakly.
Obi-Wan sat across from him, placing the food on the ground between them. The Sith Lord's eyes fell upon the food but he didn't move a muscle, slumped against the wall.
Well, this was starting just like last night. Would he have to get the man riled up again? He didn't want to constantly pick fights with him.
"You have to eat," Obi-Wan insisted, pushing the food towards Vader.
"Why?" Vader slurred, his eyelids half closed. He still wasn't moving.
"You need the energy."
"Why?"
Obi-Wan bit his tongue, closing his eyes and calming himself. This Sith was more aggravating today than yesterday. Or perhaps Obi-Wan just had less patience for him today; it probably had something to do with the fact that he no longer feared him (at least to the degree he had before)… and all the headache he and Siri both had to endure simply due to the Sith Lord's presence.
"You need food to survive, Vader. You know that." He said slowly.
Vader remained silent. The Force tingled slightly, trickling through Obi-Wan's mind like melting ice, and then the air grew immensely colder.
Growing slightly desperate, Obi-Wan latched onto the Force. He focused all his energy on Vader's mind, but not on reading his thoughts. Instead, he waved his hand, saying, "You will eat."
Vader blinked slowly, not looking impressed in the slightest.
"Oh just eat the blasted meal," Obi-Wan grumbled as he picked at his own brunch.
"Mind tricks only work on the weak minded."
Looking at the man, Obi-Wan noted that Vader had barely moved, but he at least looked more alert. Lowering his utensil, he fixed the Sith with a stern gaze. "Perhaps you can demonstrate being a strong willed intelligent person, then, by eating your breakfast."
For a brief second the Jedi Padawan marveled at the situation: he was lecturing Darth Vader. Then he decided that didn't matter; the boy needed to get food in his system. He looked starved.
Blast… it was surprisingly nice having something to focus on apart from the generic concepts of the war and training. Perhaps that was why Obi-Wan was willing to defend Qui-Gon's wish to interact with the Sith apart from pure practicality's sake. It was at least a more concrete goal than 'win the war.' And it was something he himself could do - not just sit around and wait or learn katas that, while Obi-Wan knew their practical applications, he wouldn't be able to use for a long time, if at all.
Blast, he was starting to think like Siri... but not having something to do was dangerous, given it would allow him far too much time to contemplate matters as of late.
Darth Vader continued to maintain eye contact with Obi-Wan for a few seconds more before he finally shifted, slowly reaching forward. His hands were trembling as he grabbed some food and took a small bite. Obi-Wan assumed it was mostly due to the cold, but it was likely the boy was weak from hunger as well; he'd spent quite a bit of energy over the past couple of days…
"You know I hadn't realized how late it was when we spoke last," Obi-Wan remarked as he watched the boy eat. "It was almost three in the morning."
"It's been thirty hours since Master died."
Obi-Wan looked at him curiously, mentally noting his address of Palpatine. "You've been keeping track of the time?"
The Force swirled harshly, winding the Jedi as Vader snapped, "It's not like I have anything else to do!"
Obi-Wan managed to catch his breath and then glanced at the unstable Sith. The man's eyes were fierce, and his expression was one of hatred and frustration. So it was back to the mood swings, then. Terrific. How the blazes did Qui-Gon exude such peace through the Force? How could Obi-Wan use it to his advantage?
Wait. He didn't need that. Obi-Wan knew what Vader was enduring; he himself had been dealing with it for weeks, and he was only just finding a way to cope now. The Imperial needed something to do.
It was beyond ironic (and just a little messed up) that Obi-Wan of all people was helping him through that kind of pain.
"You spoke earlier about mind tricks," he started carefully. "What other Force techniques do you know about?"
Vader's glare softened, and his expression grew neutral. He examined Obi-Wan for a minute, trying to gauge what he was doing. Then apparently he just decided he didn't care. "A lot."
Obi-Wan gave him an exasperated look. "Care to elaborate on that?"
"I thought you were being trained as a Jedi," Vader noted suspiciously, his eyes narrowing.
"Surely there are some… tricks that both Jedi and Sith utilize." Obi-Wan suggested as innocently as he could.
The Sith watched Obi-Wan for a few seconds, and then some sort of change occurred within the boy. Vader straightened, closing his eyes. The Force chilled to the point that Obi-Wan began to shiver, but then it eased off as if Vader had pulled it into himself. The temperature of the room started to match the rest of the base, and the man suddenly looked like the picture of calm itself. He held his breath for a few seconds, making Obi-Wan nervous, and then he relaxed, opening his eyes.
Obi-Wan felt a shiver run down his spine. Vader's eyes up to this point had been stormy or had carried the promise of a storm, whether through oceans or volcanoes. Now they mirrored how they used to be, filled with ice and sharp enough to cut through durasteel. It was almost as if the man had pressed an emotional reset button.
His mind tingled, and his hair all over his body stood up. He felt off, violated somehow, and he suddenly recognized the sensation – when Obi-Wan and Siri had first begun to meditate, Qui-Gon had entered their minds gently with their permission in order to help them heal.
Vader was reading his mind.
"Get out," Obi-Wan warned, though there really wasn't any way he could stop him. He felt his insides churn and he stiffened, trying to imagine mental shields closing around his mind, trying to push the Sith Lord out.
"You have very little training," Vader remarked just as Obi-Wan felt blessed release from the Sith's vicelike mental hold.
A slight twinge of annoyance and a trickle of fear slivered through Obi-Wan; he didn't really need a reminder as to how vulnerable he was in this situation.
Vader held up his hand, and in it sat Obi-Wan's lightsaber.
The Jedi Padawan shot to his feet, latching onto the Force in a knee-jerk reaction, but he wasn't sure what his next move should be.
"Summon it back." Vader ordered calmly.
What? Why was he doing this? "What are you playing at, Vader?"
Darth Vader watched him silently, seemingly unable to answer his question. Instead, he moved his hand a little, repeating his order without saying a word.
Watching the Sith carefully, Obi-Wan slowly lowered his gaze to his lightsaber once more. Grasping the Force, he stretched out his hand, prodding his surroundings for any hint of danger. He felt nothing; Vader was a void, making ice fill the Padawan's veins just as it used to when he interacted with the Sith before Padmé's death. Warnings whispered in his mind, not from the Force, but from his own reasoning; something was very wrong with this maneuver. Bracing himself, Obi-Wan imagined the lightsaber returning to his own hand.
The hilt trembled slightly on the Sith's palm. Obi-Wan wasn't focusing too much on summoning his lightsaber so much as figuring out what Vader was up to, and both men knew it. The Sith's brow furrowed ever so slightly, and the Force fluttered with a brief flash of annoyance, though it was unclear which person it came from.
Finally putting his full effort into the task, Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut and stretched his arm further, and he felt the hilt slap into his palm so hard he jumped and nearly dropped it. Obi-Wan opened his eyes, startled, and he saw that Vader was standing now. The Jedi felt his stomach churn a little more, and he gripped the inactive hilt with both hands. He didn't know why he was suddenly nervous; the Force gave no indication of threat… but something about the Sith's sharp change in demeanor just didn't sit well with him.
"What's wrong with you?" Obi-Wan asked hesitantly, wondering if he'd even get a genuine answer.
It felt like a pressure wave had traveled through water and jostled Obi-Wan. The room swam nauseatingly, and Vader's cold demeanor morphed into something else. His eyes hardened even further, and his body tensed. "You wanted me to show you tricks. I'm doing it. You're capable of remembering what you said two minutes ago, aren't you?"
Obi-Wan didn't take the bait. Instead he measured his words carefully and watched the Sith with even more caution. "Forgive me for noticing your behavior is extremely erratic."
"I'm fine."
Obi-Wan had to smile at that. "Yes, you've been demonstrating that beautifully."
Vader hesitated, and the pause in the conversation gave Obi-Wan time to pick apart their interactions up to this point. The change had occurred after Obi-Wan had asked for help; was this simply Vader's way of responding? Was the Sith trying to ignore what had happened thirty hours ago in lieu of focusing on the task at hand? Or was this some sort of trick? What was going on in that shattered mess of a mind?
"I need to walk."
Alarms blared in Obi-Wan's mind as he locked eyes with the Sith. "You expect me to let you out of your cell?"
Vader watched him, his body language barely fluctuating from earlier. "You say I'm acting unusual. Walking will fix it."
"A simple walk through the base where you could escape at any moment will automatically solve all your problems?" Obi-Wan surmised, crossing his arms. "Oh yes, I'm sure you'll find it unbelievably helpful."
The corner of his mouth twitched. His muscles tightened. The Force shifted a little. "You will let me walk."
Obi-Wan pondered the matter. If the Sith had an enormous escort perhaps it would work… wait, why in the blazes was he even considering this? It was beyond ridiculous, beyond all logical comprehension—
Obi-Wan gawked at the man. "You—I'm not some weak minded fool you can use a mind trick on!"
Vader slid to the floor sourly, grabbing his food and munching in silence.
Obi-Wan sighed, clipping his lightsaber to his belt, a little rattled and more than bemused. Dealing with this Sith would age him a decade.
"What do you need to know?"
He looked at the Sith suspiciously. "What do you mean?"
"You're keeping me alive for interrogation. That's the only reason you treated me, the only reason you brought food. What do you need to know?"
There was no logical reason Vader would give in this easily unless he was trying to get something in return. It was bizarre that the Sith didn't just use violence to get what he wanted; there was no doubt Vader could easily overpower Obi-Wan, so what was holding him back?
"Because you're her brother."
The Sith's pained words from last night (well… this morning, technically) echoed in Obi-Wan's mind. The only reason Vader hadn't throttled him was because of his relation to Padmé. It was surprising how much the apprentice had cared for his sister, and it made it all the more mind blowing that he was the one to kill her. The wound was still fresh, and simply thinking that made Obi-Wan clench his jaw, but he held it back far better than he had during their last interaction. Obi-Wan sighed slowly, sitting on the floor in front of the Imperial.
Now that Vader had some more control over himself, he wouldn't hurt Obi-Wan because he loved Padmé too much. The Sith was instead trying to appease him. This was going to quickly evolve into a mind game where the two would attempt to outwit the other. Obi-Wan felt a smile try to creep across his face; he could play mind games. He certainly found it preferable to arguing with the man… though technically his objective was to earn the Sith's trust. But was that really possible? He already had some semblance of respect from the man due to his sister; he wasn't sure it would get much better than that.
Oh well. He supposed he could at least be amicable. But he wouldn't give in to Vader's manipulation, either – if the man wanted to play a game of wits, Obi-Wan would be the victor. It was a pity it had to boil down to this—he doubted Vader could be anything apart from a prisoner with this course of action, rather than having a chance of redemption—but the Jedi Padawan didn't find it surprising.
Testing Vader's willingness to give information, Obi-Wan asked a question he already knew the answer to. "Who is Lek Ieru?"
Vader stared at him, bemused. There was no flicker of recognition at all.
Obi-Wan furrowed his brow, a little surprised and disbelieving. "You didn't assign a spy to watch us? Or to attack Siri?"
Some sort of realization hit the young Sith Lord, and he said, "The governor wanted an infiltrator amidst Padmé's handmaidens."
"The governor?" Obi-Wan repeated blankly.
Vader watched him calmly, but his tone of voice was condescending. "Yes, the governor. I just said that."
"Perhaps you can elaborate," Obi-Wan pressed, mildly annoyed with the man's attitude. "Unless you'd like me to practice reading your mind, of course."
"Elaborate?"
Obi-Wan nearly rolled his eyes. "Who is the governor?"
Vader stared at him and then sighed as if the answer had been obvious. "Grand Moff Tarkin."
Tarkin. That was… not entirely unexpected. Obi-Wan knew that the grand moff and Darth Vader were often mentioned in the same breath; it seemed like whenever Vader had some sort of public appearance (and by appearance it was typically just a statement on HoloNet with images of his soldiers or fleet) that grand moff was there as well. Initially when Vader had begun to make appearances years ago many thought he was some sort or protégé of Tarkin's, or at the very least under his command. Perhaps that really was the case – why else would Vader be so familiar with him?
"So the governor sanctioned the attack on my wife," Obi-Wan surmised. "You weren't aware of it?"
Vader shook his head, his eyes downcast and his brow furrowed. He apparently was trying to figure out the motive behind it just as much as Obi-Wan was. The Jedi doubted the Sith would share his thoughts on the matter, though.
Still, Vader gave sincere answers. This was a promising venture, after all. But what would the Alliance want to know first? "Does the Empire know anything about the location of the Rebel base?"
Vader looked up at Obi-Wan and then leaned against the wall, saying nothing. The two sat in silence for a few moments before Obi-Wan asked again. When he still got no response, he questioned, "Any particular reason you're suddenly mute? You asked what we needed to know, and your answer to this question is very important."
"I already answered some questions," Vader finally said, his features unwavering. "Now let me walk."
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at his boldness. "You expect a trade? You're our prisoner."
"I can kill all of you."
"Then why don't you?" Obi-Wan already knew the answer, but he was curious if the Sith would admit it in his current state.
"You want me to?"
Blast, the man was better at twisting words than he thought. "I never said I did – I'm simply asking why you won't."
Vader didn't reply.
Obi-Wan wasn't sure how he could sustain any kind of dialogue at this point, so he stood. He'd won this round. "I'll leave you alone for a while, then."
With that said, Obi-Wan exited the cell, leaving Vader with his own thoughts.
The noonday sunlight spilled into the apartment as Tarkin stood in front of his HoloNet receiver. The afternoon senate session had yet to begin, but everyone had been advised that an important message would be announced. The pods were packed and cameras were no doubt everywhere given the amount of coverage it was receiving.
Now was the moment. Now was the time when the senate would learn of Palpatine's demise. Now was the time Tarkin would be placed in charge.
He'd considered being there for the announcement, but it was far better to watch from a distance. He would have to make a public statement of some sort in a few days, anyway, and right now he had to be close to his allies so he could prepare for retaliation. Being alone also gave him the opportunity to mull over just how… unexpectedly good and bizarre this turn of events had been. Becoming emperor had always been Tarkin's goal since the inception of the new government, but… this most certainly had not been the way he'd expected to reach it.
Was it worth it?
Tarkin almost barked a laugh at that. Of course it was, even if there was a slight headache accompanying it. Palpatine's death had to be one of the best events of Tarkin's career – the man had shared many views with the grand moff, but over the years Tarkin's desire for the throne had increased, and Palpatine had shown himself to be far more interested in getting sadistic pleasure from his cronies than actually maintaining some order in the galaxy. The Sith Master had enjoyed watching the in-fighting, had enjoyed prolonging the battle against the Alliance in order to bleed them dry. It had grown increasingly more frustrating over the years, and the final straw had been Amidala. The grand moff still marveled at Palpatine's sadism towards his own son.
Darth Vader. Tarkin wondered where the apprentice was right now. Most importantly he wondered what state the boy was in. It couldn't be a good one, to be sure, considering recent events… blast it, if only Tarkin was there with him to get him through it – that would at least ensure the apprentice didn't lose his mind. It wasn't as if he'd do anyone any good if he had a complete mental breakdown.
The chatter of the senate hushed, catching Tarkin's attention. Emperor Palpatine's trusted helper, Vice Chair Mas Amedda began to speak. The slightly sour look on his face denoted his displeasure in being left out of the decision, but Tarkin hadn't trusted the man enough. He didn't know his motives well enough, and Amedda had been close to the emperor since the Clone War.
With flourishing rhetoric the vice chair slowly revealed the emperor's fate. The senate hissed with thousands of voices, and the senators shifted back and forth in their pods like angry insects.
"With Emperor Palpatine's death, the throne will go to his heir, Darth Vader," Amedda continued, unperturbed. Tarkin tensed, waiting for the next reaction. "However, Lord Vader is currently indisposed. In his stead, Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin will rule as emperor regent until Lord Vader is able."
The shouting began. Some seemed to be cheering, others showing displeasure. Arguments erupted, and the vice chancellor could no longer be heard over the din. He attempted to call for order, but whether he succeeded or not was no longer a concern; the senate was no threat. They hadn't been since they'd sold their souls to Palpatine at the end of the Clone War. Tarkin shut off the receiver.
CorSec would keep the citizens in line, and the vice chair would keep the senate in line. No one would argue with the high justices. It was officially declared; now all Tarkin had to do was meet with his allies and gauge the reactions from their enemies.
In a separate district from the palace, far below the skyline in the Drunken Dewback Cantina, Erwyna was staring at the HoloNet receiver alongside all the other patrons. She'd arrived at the cantina about an hour ago to wait for Okima'yak, who was going to bring the traffic surveillance, and she hadn't known anything about the senate announcement—she'd been a little busy thinking about her conclusions from earlier in the morning—until the bartender shushed the entire cantina to listen. At first people had paid little attention, but as soon as the man speaking had announced Palpatine's death the room had gone silent.
Erwyna had been surprised to learn that Darth Vader was the heir apparent, but it was also terrific news for the Alliance – they had far more in their favor than she'd given them credit for. If they had the emperor, they could easily use him as bait, leverage, anything of the sort. Some grand moff had been named emperor regent, though, and that was no doubt a power play that might make Vader obsolete within the eyes of the Imperial elite – or even make him a threat. Erwyna wasn't sure how the Alliance would react to this, but the citizens erupted into cheers and jeers alike. The bartender started sharing rounds on the house in honor of Palpatine's death, and Erwyna heard roars of approval outside the cantina. Craning her neck, she caught sight of the streets flooding with people. The city was going to be a massive chaotic mess.
As Erwyna raised her glass in yet another toast of celebration with the entire cantina, she noticed Okima'yak making her way through the crowd with a drink in her hand.
"Can you believe it?" she nearly yelled over the din. "That son of a Hutt got vaporized! I wonder how it happened! I thought that sack of bones would never be laid to rest!"
Erwyna laughed. "I can believe it. Did you get the footage?"
Okima'yak rolled her eyes. "You people. You're all karkin' business – the emperor's dead, let's celebrate!"
"I'm all for celebrating," Erwyna insisted. "But I'm also all for getting this job out of the way so we can celebrate."
"All right, fair enough," Okima'yak sighed as she sat across from the lieutenant. "But afterward, I'm heading out into the streets to bust up some Imp facilities; it's what everyone else is doing right now."
As Okima'yak slid the data chip across the table and Erwyna pulled out her payment, the lieutenant purposely tossed more into the money pouch in front of the slicer. Okima'yak raised an eyebrow. "Got another job for me?"
"Just one more," Erwyna said. "I need you to look up the coroner's report on Amidala."
"Traffic cams ought to tell you what you need to know, but whatever," the Twi'lek slicer shrugged, grabbing the money. "But I ain't doing it tonight. I'm going to have some fun outside."
"Fine," Erwyna rolled her eyes, inserting the chip into a data pad. "I'll contact you tomorrow for a meeting time."
"Great, see you!" Okima'yak said hastily as she downed the remainder of her drink and headed out.
The cantina was louder than it ever had been and people were steadily flowing in all the more to get a celebratory drink. Erwyna glanced around a little warily, but people were far too engrossed in their own ecstasy to care about her. She just hoped they didn't attract any Imperial attention; with her arm in a sling she couldn't really do too much to fight them, and she didn't want to explain why she had traffic surveillance of the area around Senator Amidala's apartment the morning she died.
Accessing the information, Erwyna glossed through different feeds. She recognized the speeder that had hovered over the senator's veranda, and she finally got a clear shot at the driver.
It was Vader.
Erwyna slapped the pad onto the table lightly, leaning back in irritation. This just figured. She could have spoken to that Sith before the Rebels interrogated him. She probably could have gotten all her kriffing answers from him… like how the hell Amidala had a weapon that was obviously designed by him.
What had happened at that apartment? It was fairly clear to Erwyna now that some massive cover-up had happened, and it was likely that Amidala was alive… but why? Everyone had assumed that Amidala's "murder" had been a warning to Salkende, to Tsograda in general… had it been for Amidala alone? Erwyna didn't really know how involved the senator was in Rebel issues, only that she was involved. She had been some sort of spy for them. She must have stumbled upon something she shouldn't have… but that would merit killing her, and an Intelligence operative could have easily done that. Why Vader specifically? And why go through the effort of making it look like she'd died—killing her handmaiden instead and using her for the body—if they actually needed her alive? Why was she still alive (if Erwyna was really going to go with that theory)?
Erwyna supposed now the only option she had was to access Intelligence's files. That meant contacting Odeki Rubar. She'd have to wait for that; the man was on duty right now, and she wouldn't risk his cover by calling him when he was in the heart of the secret police's headquarters.
Well, she supposed she'd get another drink, then.
Blast, her abdomen hurt so kriffing much.
Moaning, Padmé turned onto her side, tucking her legs in a little to ease the pain, but it didn't do much, and her legs felt like lead. Opening her eyes, she saw the medical droid examining a monitor that had her vitals.
"Where am I?" she asked hoarsely. She hadn't gotten an answer from the droid last time, so she wasn't really sure why she was asking again, but it was better than nothing.
The droid ignored her.
Sighing, Padmé gritted her teeth against the pain and started to sit up. The monitor blared, and the droid turned to her.
"If you are in pain, you should remain in a supine position," it advised.
"I'd rather know what's going on," Padmé remarked, trying not to grimace at the sound of her strained voice.
When the droid didn't offer any explanation she decided she'd find her own way out of this claustrophobic room. She needed answers. Now.
Where was Obi-Wan? Where was Siri? Had they reached Salkende safely? What the hell had happened to Vader, what had made him shoot her?! Was the Alliance safe? Where was she?!
"Please stay in—"
"No!" She interrupted loudly, growing angry and pushing the droid aside. Her legs trembled as she tried to stand, and she leaned heavily on the bed. Her abdomen felt like it was tearing apart.
"I am only programmed to look after your well-being," the droid said, standing in front of her. "I cannot answer any other questions. If you wish to get out of bed, you must have proper physical therapy. You cannot wander the compound in this state."
"Compound?" Padmé repeated, confused and elated that she'd finally gotten something out of the blasted bucket of bolts. So this wasn't a hospital. That wasn't much of a surprise considering the décor wasn't exactly clinical; it looked more like a guest room that had been refurbished into a hospital room, except there didn't seem to be any windows.
"Please get back in bed or take your transition to walking slowly."
Sighing, Padmé sat on the bed once more, but she didn't prop her feet up. "Fine. I'll go slowly. Help me walk around."
The droid obliged, and she took its metallic hands, letting it guide her around the room. The walk was excruciatingly slow and nearly as painful. Every step she took she felt her skin pulling at her wound. She had to stop often, exhausted and panting for air, and she tried to focus mainly on getting some strength back in her legs rather than thinking about how she'd ended up here in the first place.
It didn't last long, though.
"You can't tell me about where I am," she confirmed with the droid.
"I am only programmed to look after your well-being."
"Can you tell me about my well-being, then? What happened? What's my condition?"
"You sustained a blaster injury to the lower left quadrant of your abdomen," the droid explained. Padmé waited patiently; she obviously already knew this, but she was wondering if somehow the droid would at least reveal how long she'd been here or who had brought her here. She'd been certain she was going to die that night… so who rescued her? Was it Vader? Was this all some great ruse to fool the emperor, perhaps? She might have tipped off Palpatine at the opera…
The opera. Éothen. Salkende.
Blast it! Had the Alliance secured a deal with Salkende, or had that fallen apart after the assassination attempt? Was the Alliance even still around? She needed answers!
"The wound is healing well with no infection. Permanent outcomes might include some nerve damage and possible changes to your diet to accommodate more sensitive intestinal tissue."
Padmé paused, catching her breath again and taking in the information, trying not to panic over everything that was washing over her all at once. "I thought they clone tissue to ensure you make a full recovery."
"We did not have adequate facilities or an available physician for such an operation. I stabilized you and did all that I was able with the amenities provided."
No physician? So this really was being kept pretty quiet. "How long was I out? How long have I been healing?"
"I was programmed to care for you approximately eleven to twelve standard days ago."
"It's been over two weeks?!" Padmé repeated, horrified. So many things could have gone wrong in that time! "Who programmed you?"
The droid was silent.
Growling, Padmé released her grip and tried to walk towards the bedroom door, but the droid stood in her way. "Your physical therapy is still in progress. You cannot leave the room until you can walk properly and until your wound is fully healed."
"It should be healed by now." She argued, desperate to get out. Could she put up a fight against the droid? It wasn't likely, particularly if the blasted thing had a sedative stowed somewhere.
"In the proper hospital setting it would have been, but this is not that setting. Please get back in bed and rest."
This was infuriating. This was terrifying. She couldn't stay here, she couldn't sit still and think about what could have happened to her family in this time, to the Alliance and Salkende, to Vader.
He'd kriffing shot her. She still couldn't get over that. There had to be a reason. Right? He of all people would know that if he had to kill someone he would make it thorough… right?
Right?
Sighing in defeat, Padmé dragged herself to her bed once more. The droid checked her vitals and then walked over to the door, sitting beside it and power down. It was tempting to try to leave at that point, but now that she was back in bed she was too blasted tired to get up once more. Instead she just brooded… which was the last thing she wanted to do.
Vader had been acting erratically that night… but he'd also said he'd loved her. He'd kriffing said it – Padmé hadn't thought he was capable of doing so (she'd certainly hoped, but she hadn't been expecting it). And then he'd shot her.
Looking back, it was fairly obvious that was his intent from the beginning considering how anxious he'd been. But if he'd been anxious and he hadn't wanted to do it, then why the hell—
Palpatine.
Seething hatred and disbelief flooded her. How anyone could have screwed someone up so much was beyond her. That man truly was a demon from hell. But the fact that Vader, despite the progress they'd supposedly been making, had actually followed through with the order was even more astonishing. How could he have done that? Why?
She knew why.
This was insane. This was beyond insane. How could she possibly hope to ever help that man if he was so indoctrinated he would actually try to kill her?! There was no changing him, no redeeming him…
But… why had he shot her in the abdomen? And, more importantly, what had he meant when he'd said I loved him first? Could he… could he mean Palpatine? Did he love the emperor?!
"Love is a prison. It leaves you with everything… and nothing. And it always takes pieces of you away from yourself… until there's nothing left of you. Nothing."
Gods above… he'd said that at Thecine. He'd told her at Thecine without her even realizing it. But… why?! What in the name of all things sane would compel Darth Vader to love his master after everything that monster had done to him?!
Padmé shuddered at the thought. Despite all their time together, despite his obvious feelings for her and hers for him… he still chose his precious master first. He still thought of himself as a means to an end with no agency. Was it because she'd chosen Éothen? Was this really beyond people in general and just a matter of principles? Or had Padmé been somehow just as despicable as Palpatine? She'd viewed herself as the pawn when she'd basically sold herself to Éothen for the Alliance's sake, but was she actually the manipulator instead?
Did it really matter at this point? Was anything salvageable?
And where the blazes was her family in all this?
Sighing, Padmé let the exhaustion overcome her. She needed her rest anyway; the sooner she recovered, the sooner she could figure out what the blazes was going on.
The meeting room was no longer filled with people but with holograms. Tarkin stood at the head of the table listening to reports pour in from his allies. As expected, Grand Moff Rhaegon had declared (no doubt with his mother's prompting) that Tarkin had no right to be emperor regent and that to say he did was treason. As such, Rhaegon argued that in fighting Tarkin he was simply killing a traitor. The man at least seemed intelligent enough to not publicly vie for the throne; calling Tarkin a traitor was more appealing to the crowd than calling himself the better emperor regent.
Apart from Rhaegon, a grand admiral had also turned against them, but the man actually did have the gall (or the sheer stupidity) to say that the throne should go to the military since Vader was the head of the military. The officer's backing wasn't nearly as large as Rhaegon's, however, and so he was the lesser threat, and should be dealt with first. Tarkin ordered his men to do just that and to secure primary positions, especially the Core and Mid Rim as well as numerous trade routes, assuming Rhaegon didn't claim a large piece of the Empire for himself.
"I have one last duty I must attend to as grand moff of Seswenna," Tarkin said as they were closing the meeting.
"You have to choose your successor," one of the moffs said, not really hiding the eagerness in his tone.
Tarkin hid his distaste better than the idiot concealed his own emotions. "Yes, I do, which I will handle after I've toured the oversector one last time. After that I'll return to Imperial Center and expect a full report on the situation with Rhaegon and the grand admiral. Dismissed."
The holograms fizzled into nothing, and Tarkin blew out a slightly irritated breath. He wouldn't deny that he himself had been power hungry for the throne, but it was a matter of logic and necessity. It was only right for him to become emperor – he deserved it, he'd earned it. Fools like many of the moffs and nearly all the senators tripped around hoping the throne would somehow land in their corrupt little laps. It was revolting.
Exiting the conference room, Tarkin ordered a shuttle to be prepped. He would no doubt choose Ukoz as his successor; the young man deserved it for nominating him, and he was harmless enough and easy to control. With that matter handled, then, Tarkin only had one very important issue to solve, and he was going to Eriadu for that very purpose.
It was time to go to his estate and assess the situation for himself.
Sneak peek for next chapter: News of Tarkin's new title reaches the Alliance (and Vader), and a confrontation occurs on Eriadu.