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Vader stared at her. He was waiting for her to make the first move.
Cipher 8 smiled. "I'm relieved to find you alive."
The Sith Lord remained silent, still waiting.
"You must return to Imperial Center," she said.
Vader blinked, his eyebrows twitching minutely, coming together for an instant as he processed her words. Apart from that he was motionless. This was the Darth Vader she had heard about, not the uncertain one from the gala. He was dangerous in either state (she distinctly remembered the bloody corpse of Fyra Xen, after all), but now he was poised, prepared for anything, suspicious. He didn't trust her.
How curious.
"Did Tarkin send you?" he asked, his voice smooth and quiet. It held the undercurrent of a storm, and his eyes nearly glowed in the darkness.
Cipher crossed her arms. "No. I came of my own volition. Tarkin won't remain emperor regent for long. If you don't return he will declare you dead and take what is rightfully yours."
Her words seemed to intrigue him. His brow furrowed again, this time for a longer period before smoothing once more. He shifted on his feet, taking a minute step closer. Every centimeter of his body was tense.
She took a step towards him, not breaking eye contact. "I want you to take the throne. I want you to be your own man, to stop taking orders from Tarkin, from anyone. I've read your file, milord; I know how you've been used. There's nothing to stop you now. It's time you lead the Empire."
Vader's eyes widened for an instant, his lips parting slightly, and he took a step away from her. He broke eye contact, looking elsewhere as he pondered her words. Eventually he looked at her once more. "What do you gain from this arrangement?"
She smirked. This man wasn't as naïve as Tarkin thought he was, at least in concern to matters that were actually important. "When I first joined Intelligence, I thought I could change the galaxy. I thought I could do some good. I had so many hopes and ideas for the future. But as time progressed, I lost myself more and more to my work. One of my first assignments as a cipher forced me to allow a genocide to occur—one that I easily could have prevented—in order to root out a terrorist group's leaders. A few missions later, I was in deep cover, and a man who had fallen in love with my cover identity proposed marriage. I couldn't say no; the match made sense, and refusing would bring up questions. So I married him. I left him a month after the wedding, and to this day I still don't know if I actually ever loved him or just accepted his proposal because of the job. I lost myself in Intelligence. I became an empty vassal to be used as needed, when needed. I don't want to see you go through the same thing.
"Return to Imperial Center and claim your birthright. Be free, and be the one to give commands instead of receive them. The only thing I stand to gain is the satisfaction of seeing at least one of us come out ahead after the abuse the Empire has made us endure. Once I see you on the throne, I'll know the Empire is better than it was when I started working for Intelligence. I can happily retire. I'm just a Fixer, after all; a useless position for agents they've forced to retire but still might need in the future."
Vader watched her carefully, looking intrigued and nervous at the same time. His respiration rate had increased, though he wasn't panting so much as watching her like an animal ready to pounce or flee, but it hadn't decided which it would do quite yet.
It didn't matter. She'd said what she had to. She knew this would take time to ruminate. She bowed. "Long may you reign, my emperor."
With that, she vanished into the night, and Darth Vader stood in the darkness alone.
Obi-Wan sighed as he gazed out the window in their room, which had apparently been installed while they were training.
"I still can't believe you let him wander the city alone," Siri remarked from the floor where the two had been sitting and meditating together. "You're placing more trust in him than you should."
"Words alone won't convince him we actually care, Siri. We have to prove the point." Obi-Wan noted. "You shouldn't keep fighting against the idea of actually helping him, of looking out for him. He's saved our lives, stayed by our side despite technically being emperor… I'm not sure what other indications you want."
Siri leaned against the wall, her eyes distant. "I don't know. I just feel like I'm the only one being reasonable here. I understand why he is the way he is, and I'd like to think we could help him… but he still loses control, Obi. He's still dangerous to others. Us getting to know him and like him doesn't change that. Just because we want to help him, just because there's a chance we can actually stop others from hurting him doesn't mean he's incapable of hurting others himself."
"Then we must teach him." Obi-Wan faced her.
Siri raised her eyebrows. "Teach him? You expect him to listen?"
Obi-Wan glanced at the chronometer. It was midnight. Siri looked at it as well before gazing pointedly at him. You told him to be here.
Before either spouse could speak, however, they both sensed Anakin approaching as if to answer Siri's question. Obi-Wan smiled at her.
The door opened, and Anakin entered. By all accounts, he looked perfectly normal and calm, if a bit distant. The sight of it made a small shiver run down Obi-Wan's spine. The Force was motionless. He was reminded strikingly of the day he had first met Darth Vader.
"Anakin?" he questioned softly.
The young man took a deep breath, still standing right in front of the door, which he had closed quietly. "What do you want of me?"
Obi-Wan and Siri exchanged bewildered looks. Where had this come from? Was this because of his words during training? Why was he asking now when he'd been fairly adamant about not discussing the matter at the end of their last conversation?
"We want you to live, Anakin," he eventually answered. "We don't want anything from you."
"What does that mean?" the boy asked, though his low, even tone indicated more of a statement than a question.
Obi-Wan examined the young man, wondering what brought this on. Perhaps the walk had just made him this contemplative. But last time he'd walked alone he'd come back dejected, unable to parse out how he felt as he apparently normally could do during that ritual. In either case, this question demanded a thought out reply, so he took his time in answering. "It means acknowledging who and what you are. You are not a weapon, nor are you anyone's tool to use. You are not just a means to an end. You're a person, you're Anakin Skywalker, or… even perhaps Darth Vader, if you choose to be. But you must be the one to choose. Not Palpatine, not Padmé… not us."
They had to let go. They had to let him make his own decisions… assuming he was ready to do so. The problem was that Obi-Wan was fairly certain he wasn't – nevertheless, he had to make his point.
Anakin looked beyond them, staring at the wall as he contemplated his words. His demeanor was unnerving; Obi-Wan had grown used to seeing some sort of cracks through his armor, to sensing his unease. Anakin had been unstable ever since Palpatine's death, and though he'd been slowly trying to rebuild himself since then, he'd always been off. Now… well now, it still felt off, but it was that unsettling feeling that made one's hair stand up, that unnatural stillness in the Force that Obi-Wan had sensed when he'd first met the man.
What happened?
"You helped me. You show concern, you…" Anakin took a deep breath, his eyes distant as he tried to sort it out in his own mind. "You want me to be a—a person."
"You are a person," Siri said firmly. "Our wanting has nothing to do with it."
"What makes you say that? How do you know?" Anakin asked, suddenly looking at her with hard eyes.
"There's no such thing as a living weapon, Anakin, not in the way you imagine it. And even you yourself realize that," Obi-Wan responded for his wife, garnering the young man's attention. "You… refute your feelings for Palpatine, but you know you have them."
Anakin swallowed, his body stiffening. "I… can't have weaknesses. I won't. Love is a weakness."
Obi-Wan felt his heartrate rise at the man's wording. Since when had it been a choice to have feelings? Originally it was simply a negative statement altogether: I don't have feelings. He hid the smile, but the minute change was monumental, and he couldn't help but feel some relief at the prospect that they were finally getting to the boy.
"Why do you say that? Just because Palpatine said so?" Siri asked.
"It destroys everything. It has destroyed everything." Anakin said sharply.
Obi-Wan crossed his arms, now curious. "What do you mean?"
Anakin shifted, and the stillness in the Force fluctuated a little. His tight shields were cracking, and Obi-Wan was flooded with uncertainty, suspicion, and longing, though he couldn't pinpoint the reasoning behind them. "I… I…"
He stumbled for over a minute, growing steadily more uncomfortable.
Obi-Wan watched him carefully, prodding their fledgling bond. Anakin seemed to sense it and snapped to attention, taking a startled step back. "No—no, don't—no—"
Siri leapt to her feet, confused as to what had just transpired, while Obi-Wan hastily stepped forward, putting a reassuring hand on Anakin's outstretched arm. "It's okay. It's okay. I won't. I'm sorry."
Anakin took several gulps of air as if he'd been on the verge of panic, and through the Force Obi-Wan felt as if his head had been smacked into duracrete as the boy slammed the bond closed. The Jedi groaned softly, stumbling away, making Siri even more confused and nervous.
Anakin bit his lip. "I—I must rest. So must you."
He brushed by them, grabbing the sleeping mat and waiting for them to climb onto the bed so he had room to lay it out. Siri watched him curiously, but she'd learned by now when to push him and when not to. Sighing, she exchanged a glance with Obi-Wan. Just get in bed. We'll sort it out tomorrow.
Obi-Wan reluctantly agreed, giving Anakin one last glance and getting in bed. Siri, however, took a step towards the young man and put a hand on his shoulder, actually offering him a smile. "Look, I… I get that you don't want to talk about these things. Just know that we're here to help, and we're here to listen."
Anakin searched her eyes, looking for something before shaking his head. "I don't have any wants."
"Yes you do," Siri replied softly, taking a step away to join her husband in bed. "You want him back."
Anakin's lips parted slightly, and the Force shifted, leaving an empty ache in Obi-Wan's chest. He then closed his mouth, blinked a few times while furrowing his brow, and gazed downward, no longer able to speak. Siri sighed and hopped in bed, and after a few moments' pause, Anakin rolled out the sleep mat and lied down. The spouses stared into each other's eyes, some silent understanding glittering in them as they both used the Force to send gentle reassurance to the young man on the sleeping mat, just as he'd taught them to.
The trio fell into an uneasy sleep.
Padmé hugged herself as she sat on the bunk in the hidden guest quarters in the upper level of the Beauty. Al had explained everything and had patiently endured her double takes and panicked interrogation. She'd then decided she needed to ponder this alone. And gods there was a lot to ponder.
Al had found the agent who had bought Kelathik only to discover he was a mechanic working for Intelligence, but he'd given them priceless information about Palpatine's location. And they'd acted on it, they'd killed Palpatine and captured Vader. And Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan had been looking after him. Al had noted how they'd learned that Vader had been the one to shoot her, that he'd loved her, that he loved Palpatine… Padmé shuddered; although Vader's final words to her had haunted her, she'd given little conscious thought to them in the frenzy to get away from Eriadu. But now… she sighed heavily, angry at herself for missing such an obvious conclusion based on what Vader had told her at Varykino, at Thecine.
The Empire had attacked the Rebel base on Hoth, and they'd scattered their forces between Salkende and Ghanu'jivo, which was apparently the Jedi hideout. In the midst of all the insanity, Vader had helped Al, Obi-Wan, and Siri escape. He'd helped them escape the Empire. Padmé didn't know what to make of it. She tried to tear through all her interactions with Vader, with her understanding of him to figure out why he would do such a thing. The Empire was a part of his being, wasn't it? Palpatine had founded it, after all, and anything that monster had touched was precious in his apprentice's eyes. It was highly unlikely Vader was playing them; that poor man wouldn't know how to play someone if he'd tried. Padmé laughed, but her mirth turned sardonic when she thought of how he'd succeeded in playing her.
Well, perhaps not playing her. He didn't seem happy with his objective, either; he hadn't wanted to do it then and he regretted it now. She hugged herself even tighter, her abdomen aching despite being fully healed.
What was most worrisome, however, was the fact that no one knew she was alive. She'd thought the entire Alliance was aware of it by now, considering Salkende and Al had come for her, but apparently Éothen only had time to inform Al on the matter, and Al had been too rushed to tell anyone else. Obi-Wan and Siri knew nothing about it. They still thought she was dead. Vader still thought she was dead.
To top it all off, Al had lost his informant and Éothen had lost his team just learning Padmé was alive.
Padmé didn't know what to do, how to fix this. She breathed slowly through her nose, then her mouth. She tried to calm her own thoughts and focus on what would happen next. She felt so helpless, so out of control. She felt worried and guilty all at once. Somehow this situation made her more stressed than her previous one, though she was infinitely grateful to be free. Her fingers traced her neck where the slave collar had been and she shuddered. She'd only been enslaved a few days and she felt violated – she couldn't imagine what it was like for those who spent years in slavery.
She wanted so desperately to go to Naboo and check on her family. She wanted so desperately to go to Ferrasco and find Obi-Wan and Siri, and…
Did she want to see Vader? After what he'd done… tears sprang to her eyes as she thought about their time together on Naboo and how it had all ended. She… she still loved him. But that didn't mean she trusted him. It didn't mean she felt ready to get near him. Not after he'd shot her. Though really, with Palpatine dead, how much of a threat was he? Then again, Al had said he'd killed a great many Rebels and Jedi. Padmé lowered her head, curling inward.
It wasn't just her family and Vader. It was Éothen too. Her fiancé. A man who had barely known her, who she'd proposed marriage to in a panic to aid the Alliance when she'd had little other choice… a man who had just rescued her when no one else even knew she was still alive.
Padmé took a steadying breath and then rose from her spot on the bunk. She needed to at least check on him properly, to thank him properly. But she felt so conflicted now – in one respect, it made all the more sense to go through with the marriage since Éothen obviously cared for her and had done so much for her and the Alliance, but in another respect, it made less sense to go through with the marriage since Salkende was already aiding the Alliance.
It just felt wrong altogether. She'd never been happy with the decision, but she herself had made it and had forced another man, another planet into it. She couldn't back down now, right? Especially after what he'd done for her, especially after what Vader had done to her.
Shaking her head, Padmé took the ladder down to the main lounge, where Éothen's new team sat. Al was still in the cockpit. Éothen was nowhere to be seen. The Salkendens all stood when they noticed her, which they'd done when she'd initially gone upstairs. They faced her, nodding their heads in acknowledgement and respect. They all viewed her as Éothen's fiancé, as practically Salkenden already. She tried to ignore the feeling of her heart clenching.
"Where's Éothen?" she asked them.
The teammates exchanged slightly confused glances. "He's upstairs, milady. We thought you were with him."
Upstairs? He wasn't… was he in the concealed cargo bay? Had he been there the whole time? Padmé turned to climb the ladder once more, but she hesitated when she had the idea to make something for him in the kitchenette. He could probably use some food, anyway. She quickly put a sandwich together and some bantha milk and somehow managed to get to the guest quarters without spilling or dropping anything. She then walked to the other end of the room, opening the door.
Éothen sat off to the left side, his lower back against the wall while he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. He had a distant, somber look, his jaw clenched.
Padmé stepped towards him hesitantly. "I brought you something. Are you hungry?"
Éothen remained motionless. In a quiet tone, he said, "No, thank you."
Padmé watched him uncertainly and then walked towards him, putting the tray beside him and then sliding to the floor so she was at eye level with him. "I'm… sorry about your team. I didn't… I'm sorry I'm the cause of this."
Éothen turned his gaze to her, his eyes soft as his jaw clenched even tighter. He swallowed thickly before speaking. "You didn't plan this. It's not your fault."
Padmé looked down at the floor, not feeling quite as guilty but not feeling absolved. Before she could say anything, Éothen continued, as if now that he was speaking he couldn't stop himself.
"They knew what they were getting into," he said softly, staring at nothing in particular. "We all agreed to break in. We all knew. It was for Salkende. She knew that too. She… she knew you were the future."
Padmé immediately grew uncomfortable and felt her heart sink into her stomach. Then she grew confused. "She?"
Éothen swallowed again. "Erwyna. My second-in-command."
Erwyna. Padmé remembered that name. That was the woman who had escorted Obi-Wan and Siri off Imperial Center all that time ago. That was the woman whom Éothen had brought along to break Bail out of prison. Judging by the fact that Éothen specifically singled her out, Padmé had a feeling he was far closer to her than the rest of the team.
"I'm sorry," she apologized again.
"Being sorry won't bring her back!" Éothen suddenly snapped, leaping to his feet. Padmé jumped, shifting away from him. Once he was halfway across the room, however, he froze in place and took another deep breath, and Padmé saw all the energy he'd just had transfer into his muscles in the form of tension. Eventually he faced her. His face was stony, his eyes sharp, and his breathing very measured. "She died so that my clan could continue, so that Salkende would prosper. If you're truly sorry, then let's not let her death be in vain. We have many issues with which we have to contend once we land. Let's get the most important one out of the way first, the one we can solve, the one thing we can fix in all this."
Padmé watched him, mouth sealed shut, so many words expressing dread, regret, worry, and guilt trapped in her throat.
"Let's get married once we land," Éothen said, standing tall, making him look like a statue looming over her. "Then we can focus on the war."
Padmé fought to find the right words, though a part of her wondered why she was even fighting it. She herself had created this engagement. Why didn't she follow through with it?
What about Vader?
She felt her body stiffen. Back on Eriadu Darth Vader had been too much of an enigma to decide anything; she'd been scared of him, angry at him, and worried for him all at once. She hadn't wanted to get near him, not unless it was on her terms, and even then she wasn't sure she could handle it. But after hearing Al speak about him, she… she didn't know. His account of the man didn't completely destroy any possibility of… she swallowed. She hated herself. She hated this whole situation.
What is more important, Padmé? You or your duty? You or the Alliance? Do you really have to think about this?
She bit her lip. "Éothen… let's… not be too hasty."
His eyes immediately lit up, and his face darkened. "Hasty? Hasty? You're telling me to not be hasty when you proposed marriage despite—don't you dare—she died for this! You don't have a say in this!"
Padmé gaped at him. Éothen took a hasty breath, stepping away, and then his expression morphed to mild panic. He shook his head and balled his fists. "I'm sorry, milady."
She couldn't say anything. She didn't know what to say. His words scared her and angered her, but his sudden backtrack indicated this was just emotion spilling out; he wasn't in his right mind. Éothen continued to shake his head and moved to the other side of the small cargo bay, sitting on the ground once more and hiding his eyes with a trembling hand.
Padmé watched him worriedly, her heart racing. Losing his team must have been akin to her losing family. This somehow made her feel worse. She didn't know what to do. She'd forced this marriage on him and now she had the gall to back out of it after he'd lost family to save her? Why did she have to hold onto the false hope that somehow she and Vader could be together? Even if she weren't engaged, Vader had shot her. But Al had said he'd regretted it…
She shook her head. She couldn't think about this now. Standing, Padmé instead focused on the current dilemma, which obviously was not their engagement, but the price Éothen had to pay to save her. She walked over to the Salkenden and sat beside him, slowly putting her hand on his shoulder. Éothen shuddered under her touch, but he did nothing else, so she eventually pulled him close and held him tightly as he finally sank into the embrace, one of his hands wrapping around her wrist.
It was never a promising start to the day when the Minister of Intelligence wished to speak immediately. Typically Tarkin would at least have breakfast before receiving the report, which would be given to him in writing by the minister once a week for normal occasions and perhaps in person for more serious occasions. He'd never heard of the minister taking the initiative. This couldn't be good.
Rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes, Tarkin straightened his uniform just as he allowed the minister to enter. The Minister of Intelligence was a fairly elderly man, having been Keeper for a decade after thirty years of service in Intelligence. He was one of the most knowledgeable men in the galaxy, and, therefore, one of the most dangerous, though his position was essentially diplomatic, serving as the conduit between Intelligence and the Imperial crown. The man offered a brief bow and then immediately began. "Sire, Grand Moff Rhaegon has taken control of Eriadu."
Tarkin's mouth became a thin line as anger coursed through him. It had been a calculated risk sending some of the Imperial forces in his oversector to Hoth. He thought it would be worth it to get Vader back, and he'd told Ukoz to ensure Seswenna was properly reinforced with other fleets. What in the blazes had his successor been doing? Not only was such an invasion a symbolic victory over Tarkin, weakening his power in the eyes of others, but it could seriously compromise his operation on Eriadu.
The minister continued, and the situation immediately got worse. "There have also been rumors among several members of the senate concerning the late Senator Amidala. People claim she has been spotted on Eriadu."
What?!
Tarkin swallowed, clasping his hands behind his back and squeezing them so hard his knuckles popped. He let his brow furrow slightly in faux confusion, and then released his hands, waving one almost dismissively. "Senator Amidala is dead. We should focus on the more important matter, that being Rhaegon."
The minister watched him silently for too long. Tarkin grew distinctly uncomfortable and agitated at once, but he maintained a calm façade. Eventually the minister lowered the data pad from which he'd been reading. "Of course, sire. If you wish anything of Intelligence I will relay it to Keeper."
"Monitor the situation in the Seswenna Oversector, particularly on Eriadu," Tarkin ordered carefully. "And I want you to find Rhaegon's mother; she is the one who controls him and many of his supporters, she is the one we need to eliminate first."
The minister bowed and departed without another word. Tarkin sat heavily on the sofa in his apartment, temporarily allowing his composure to slip. How in the blazes had rumors about Amidala started to spread?! What if the Alliance found out? What if, somehow, Vader found out? This couldn't be the way for it to happen; Tarkin had to be in control of everything to ensure Vader took the realization the right way, to ensure Amidala played her role properly, to ensure the pieces fit together just right.
Tarkin heard the front door open without any sort of warning, and he stiffened. A petite silhouette appeared in the hallway before walking into the dim morning sunlight.
It was his spy.
Shooting to his feet, Tarkin demanded, "Where is he?"
His spy stared at him, her face completely neutral. Now that his mind had managed to catch up with his initial reaction, Tarkin backtracked. "What happened? Why didn't you report in after Hoth?"
"I was tracing a lead, sir," she answered calmly, her eyes sharp. "I found what I needed, but I don't have enough to get what you want."
Don't have enough? "What are you talking about?"
His spy started to walk towards him slowly, her eyes boring into his own. "I've heard there are rumors about your rose garden at your estate."
Tarkin narrowed his eyes. Where was she going with this?
"It would be unfortunate if the senate learned the truth," his spy commented. "Particularly if Lord Vader remains indisposed. I'm not sure what would happen."
Tarkin felt his gut twist as he grew angry. What sort of stunt was this woman pulling? She should know better than to toy with him. "You wouldn't happen to know who started those rumors, would you?"
His spy stopped so she stood one pace away from him. "No. But it is an interesting dilemma. One that would blow over easily if the right pieces fell into place."
Tarkin crossed his arms, his temples pounding as he grew angrier still. "What are you playing at?"
"I have everything you need," his spy said frankly. "I have the ability to silence the rumors. I can ensure your garden remains perfectly trimmed. I can eliminate Rhaegon and his mother. I can bring you the one person who can ensure your position."
Tarkin felt his blood run cold. She knew where Vader was. That meant he was alive.
Darth Vader was alive.
"Where is he?" he demanded once more, his voice loud.
"I have everything you need," his spy repeated, her face hardening. "Yet I do not have everything I need."
This wasn't about necessity. She was blackmailing him. Tarkin took a deep breath, hearing his pulse in his ears as rage settled into his chest. How dare she do this? He could have Intelligence eliminate her right now. He would—
Vader. She knew where Vader was. She knew about Amidala.
She knew everything.
Tarkin bit his tongue until he tasted blood. "What do you want?"
"Make me Keeper," she immediately said.
Tarkin stared at her. What? She wanted him to install her as the head of Imperial Intelligence? He'd thought she was a loyal spy, but now that he knew she was power hungry like the rest, placing her in that position was akin to giving his worst enemy all the tools needed to destroy him. It was suicide. How could he get out of this?
She knew everything. She knew where Vader was. But surely he could get Intelligence to find the boy? He could silence her now, he could have her killed, he could even do the killing himself, but not here, not now – his blaster was nowhere close, and she was a better warrior than he. If he let her go now without making her Keeper, she would go straight to Intelligence and tell them about Amidala. Would that really be so terrible? It wasn't like Intelligence had its own agenda… right?
Tarkin felt his heartrate spike. He didn't know much about the current Keeper, to be honest, a mistake he sorely regretted now. All he'd ever needed to know about the man before was that he was unaware of his spy's dealings with Tarkin. What a fool he was.
But he could still turn this around. If he installed his spy as Keeper, he would at least know, then, the motivations of the new head of Intelligence. He could read her better, figure out how best to keep her in line, or better yet, completely eliminate her. In the meantime, he could potentially give her what she wanted and then allow her to play with her power for a while until he had settled matters with Vader.
This was still too risky, though. What would she do with that power in the short time he allotted it to her? He couldn't allow this to happen… but she had all the cards.
Tarkin swore internally. "Very well. I will inform Intelligence later this morning."
"You will inform Intelligence now, sir."
Swallowing down an enraged retort, Tarkin glared at her as he slowly reached for his comlink. He supposed there wasn't really a way he could still have some semblance of control of this situation. He didn't trust her out of his sight, and she was the same way.
A brief call to Keeper himself ensured a smooth transition… and it did at least eliminate one thorn in Tarkin's side; with this change in power, the current Keeper would become the next Minister of Intelligence, and the current minister would be silenced… permanently.
His spy tipped her head and then placed her hands behind her back. "Lord Vader is on Ferrasco alongside two Jedi Padawans: the former representative of Naboo, Obi-Wan Naberrie, and his wife, Siri Naberrie, the former handmaiden to Senator Amidala. They were originally going to make way to one of the two Rebel rendezvous points. I only know the location of one: Salkende. The Jedi were unable to get there, and they're now stranded without any assistance."
Tarkin felt his jaw go slack. Vader was being guarded by mere students? Those Jedi Padawans were the Naberrie couple?! Since when were those two Jedi?! The Rebel remnant was on Salkende?
"I will ensure Rhaegon's mother is eliminated, sire," his spy added, bowing deeply. Before Tarkin could utter a word, she left.
The emperor regent stood in place, fathoming everything he'd just learned. His heart fluttered at the thought that Vader was alive, and he felt dizzy. He sat down in order to calm himself, but after a few more seconds of registering all the information, he was on his feet again, grabbing his comlink in a heartbeat. He had to get Vader. He would get Vader. But first he had to ensure Salkende didn't interfere; it was in the same sector, after all. He divided up his forces, letting a bulk of them go to Eriadu while a sizable fleet went to Salkende; the Rebels were weary from Hoth, and this was only half their surviving forces, so a fleet should be enough. He had to reestablish control of Eriadu, he had to ensure Salkende was taken out of play, and then he would send an armada for Vader.
Nothing would stop him now.
Meanwhile, Cipher 8 walked through Intelligence and entered the office that would now be hers. Closing the door, she slowly made her way to sit behind the desk, and she gazed around the room before smiling.
She had her back turned to him, her shoulders tight as knots and her fists balled. Her hands trembled, she gazed at the wall, and though he couldn't see her eyes, he knew they were distant, lost in so many worries. Too many worries. They all had too many worries now.
Obi-Wan took a deep breath. "Padmé?"
Padmé turned and gazed at him somewhat confusedly for a second as if she didn't realize it was nightfall. He had a funny feeling she didn't; she seemed quite preoccupied. As soon as it registered, though, she worriedly asked, "Is everything set?"
Obi-Wan pushed his own stress away as he tried to look reassuring. He smiled and nodded, not quite able to muster up enough energy to say much. "Stay here, all right? Qui-Gon will keep you safe."
The last thing he needed was for her to do something rash once more, and with the state she was in it was quite possible. He bit back a tired sigh.
Padmé stepped forward and hugged him tightly. He returned the embrace, not wanting to let go but eager to get Siri off-world.
"Shouldn't Qui-Gon go with you, at least until you leave the planet?" Padmé asked.
Obi-Wan held her tighter and shook his head. No. He had to make this point quite clear. "Padmé, we agreed on this. Qui-Gon stays with you, and you stay here."
His sister sighed, her muscles relaxing slightly as she tried to stay calm. "Be safe, Obi. Please."
He rubbed her back reassuringly. "We will be, Padmé."
He felt her shudder and the air shifted as if a cold wind had temporarily blown through. He fought the sensation as best he could, at least for his sister's sake. It wasn't as if he weren't exceptionally worried. He'd been feeling dread in the pit of his stomach for some time now.
"Have you still heard nothing from Al?" she asked.
Obi-Wan couldn't hide the tension in his muscles as he thought about it. They'd been trying to contact Al all day ever since the attack on Siri. "No."
Padmé tightened her grip on him, burying her face in his shoulder. "I love you."
Obi-Wan swallowed, composing himself before he said anything in return. They rarely spoke these words, so hearing her say it was like saying goodbye for a long period of time. It was probably just because she was so worried. Everything will be fine, he lied to himself, ignoring his gut instinct that something really was wrong – because, honestly, how would he know if something was genuinely wrong, anyway? He was just discovering his Force sensitivity, and Qui-Gon seemed more at ease than they did. Obi-Wan knew he was a worrier, so he figured that was all this was. Padmé was stressed too.
Nevertheless, he didn't try to reassure her. He just returned the sentiment, meaning it wholeheartedly. "I love you too."
Obi-Wan opened his eyes, feeling a little queasy. He glanced around the small space. He and Siri had awoken to an empty room; Anakin had already gotten up, rolled his sleeping mat, and disappeared. By this point Obi-Wan wasn't quite as concerned over Anakin's location – he'd eventually return. He just wasn't sure what state the boy would be in when he did. In the meantime, Obi-Wan and Siri had stretched, eaten breakfast, and then decided to meditate before heading to the outskirts of the city and training (though at this rate they'd have to get lunch before they left - they'd meditated all morning). They figured they might actually find Anakin there, anyway.
So why was a memory of his last interaction with Padmé surfacing? What did that have to do with anything these days? He still missed his sister, but she wasn't constantly haunting his thoughts, weighing him down with guilt – that hadn't been the case since Ilum. He'd dreamt of Padmé on Hoth just after he'd started dealing with Vader, but that had likely been a reaction due to his own perception of the young man. Times had changed. He marveled for a moment at just how much they'd changed. For a millisecond he thought that Padmé must have felt the same way as her time with Anakin on Naboo came to an end, but he brushed the thought aside. Jedi did not linger on regret; if something regrettable happened, one would learn from it and move on.
"It's her birthday."
Obi-Wan glanced at his wife, who had also ended her meditation. "What?"
"Padmé," she explained, folding her hands on her lap. "Today's her birthday. She would've been turning twenty-one."
Obi-Wan stared at her, confused. He'd lost track of the days after they'd parted from his family on Naboo. Was it really his late sister's birthday? When he asked the date, Siri confirmed it. He exhaled heavily, releasing the emotions that flooded him for a moment as he thought about it, and then he leaned against the wall.
"You think Anakin knows?" Siri asked.
Obi-Wan looked at her, not having considered it. Would he? The man had been counting the days since Palpatine's death, but that didn't necessarily mean he knew the actual date. Surely he wouldn't know…
Well. This was Anakin. He probably was quite aware of the fact. Perhaps that was why he'd left.
Obi-Wan stood and looked out the window. It was a depressingly grey day, with clouds covering the entire sky, growing ever heavier and darker with oncoming rain. Something settled into the back of Obi-Wan's mind like a familiar presence, and the room chilled slightly, though he ignored it.
"I was thinking about something," Siri remarked softly, catching her husband's attention. "How far should we really be going for him? Isn't our first loyalty be to the Alliance and the Jedi? Padmé's was. And look what he did to her."
Obi-Wan stared at her confusedly. "What are you saying? Surely you don't actually think he'll kill us?"
Siri shook her head. "I don't think so. But… Obi, he loved her and he killed her. If he just likes us, what does that guarantee us? Why are we risking it all for him?"
Where was this coming from? This had not been either of their sentiments last night.
Before he could ask anything, Siri also stood, shaking her head and running a hand through her hair. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Obi. I mean… what he did was monstrous… but I… we've both kind of brushed it to the side, you know? The more we learned about him and the more we learned about being Jedi, the more we tried to move on. And that's a good thing, but I feel like we left something behind rather than moving forward."
The chill left the room, and Obi-Wan felt like he could think a little more clearly all of a sudden. His wife was conflicted; this wasn't her saying Anakin was a monster, it was just her saying she had feelings for him that didn't coincide with how she assumed she should feel… with how she'd originally felt.
"Siri…" he started to say, but she cut him off.
"Relax, Obi, I'm not getting upset about it. I'm not even mad at him. He's frustrating as hell at times, but he can't help the way he was raised. I just… we need to make a choice if we're really going to commit to this, and I'm not sure I'm ready to make it."
"What choice?"
Siri looked at him, her eyes determined. "Whether we can forgive him for what he did."
Forgive him? Obi-Wan took a small step back at her words.
Well… she was right; neither of them had ever considered forgiving Darth Vader for murdering Padmé. They'd learned about his parentage, his personality, his traumatic life, and they'd brushed off his actions as a result. They'd grown close to him, he'd helped them and they'd helped him. They'd formed a relationship, had bonded with him. But they hadn't fully reconciled what he'd done. That didn't change the fact that Obi-Wan did care deeply for Anakin, nor did it change his conviction to help him, but it did bring up an important point.
Could he forgive him for what he'd done? There was a distinct difference between excusing or ignoring his actions and actually confronting them and forgiving him for them. Darth Vader had been brainwashed, but he had also consciously decided to shoot Padmé despite being in love with her. It had been too soon, Padmé had expected too much out of him too quickly… the end result was… logical, predictable in hindsight.
Anakin had actually apologized for killing her. But murdering his sister was…
Was it unforgiveable?
The room shifted. He felt empty suddenly, and he remembered the strange change in atmosphere that had occurred during the conversation, the funny feeling in the back of his head. Without having to say a word, Siri pondered it as well. The couple gazed at each other in dawning comprehension.
Anakin had been outside. He'd overheard part of their conversation. He'd left.
Oh no.
The couple immediately rushed out into the hallway, tracing Anakin's signature in the Force. Looking out the windows the lounge, Obi-Wan could barely see anything through the heavy rain that had just started seconds ago.
What part of the conversation had the boy heard? Did he leave because he didn't want to interrupt, or because he'd made the wrong assumptions? He was unstable enough as it was…
Obi-Wan had a really bad feeling about this. Looking at Siri, the two ran down the stairs and into the torrential downpour outside.
The world was spinning. The Force was empty and full all at once, silent as death in the one corner of his mind that mattered most, but screaming in all other respects. His heart beat loudly, and he could barely breathe. He'd been running for at least an hour.
The dragon had lost, just as he knew it would, just as he knew it had to. The dragon that had poisoned Padmé had attempted to sink its teeth into Obi-Wan and Siri, but it had failed. It had failed. This was a victory, right? This was a victory.
He took a shaky breath. Ever since Master had died, his world had been lost to him. He'd lived to serve Master. He'd been created to serve Master. He'd killed Padmé for Master. And in the end, he'd failed him.
He'd failed him.
He gagged, overcome with a wave of nausea. He wasn't sure if his skin was soaked because of the rain or sweat.
After Master's death, nothing had mattered, and then that stupid brother had started talking to him, pretending to show concern in order to get information out of him. At least that was what he'd originally thought, once he'd bothered to even give the man any consideration. Obi-Wan was a Jedi, and all the Jedi deserved to die for what they did to Master, but he was also Padmé's brother. He couldn't kill her family. He wouldn't. He'd done enough damage, and Master had never cared if anyone else died. He knew Padmé would've cared, and that had been enough reason to hold back. And so he'd given Obi-Wan the smallest glimmer of courtesy, just enough to respect Padmé's memory, because dammit he was going to do something to remember her.
But he'd still failed Master. After everything, he'd lost him.
What the hell is wrong with you?!
At first he'd… he didn't know what had happened. Something in him had just snapped. He'd needed to kill everything, everyone. There had been no reason to it. He'd done the same when he'd killed Padmé. But after that Jedi had knocked him out, he'd had no purpose. He'd had nothing. So he'd just… existed. He didn't even have the energy to end it at that point.
But he'd be damned if he let anyone insult Master. And so he'd killed that interrogator. He would kill anyone who insulted Master.
Well, except Obi-Wan and Siri, apparently. Originally his obedience had been merely a result of their relation to Padmé. Originally.
He took another shaky breath, his legs trembling. One would think he'd learned from his mistake the first time. Just because Padmé spoke of foreign concepts that awoke that dragon inside him didn't mean he should actually listen to it. Just because Obi-Wan echoed her words didn't mean…
He still didn't understand. He still didn't understand any of it. He'd failed Master. He should have died that day. His world had been torn away from him that day. But Obi-Wan had somehow offered him an alternate world, one where he wasn't just a means to an end, one where two people actually thought about him and looked out for him for his own sake, not because he was a valuable asset or because he was a possible threat.
Even Padmé hadn't done that. After all, she'd used him for the sake of her Alliance. But Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan wanted to get away from both the Alliance and the Empire. He was willing to break ties for his sake.
But that just didn't make sense. There had to be an ulterior motive, just as the governor had an ulterior motive all along. After all, he'd taken the throne immediately upon Master's death. Even if he hadn't planned for Master's demise, he'd obviously thought of it as an opportunity.
An opportunity. As if Master were an enemy. As if Master weren't the most important thing in the galaxy. He gritted his teeth, gripping the knife he'd stolen from the dormitory kitchen. He'd never been designed to trust anyone except Master, but… he'd trusted the governor. And look what that had brought him. Look at what he'd done!
His gaze fell to the knife. Up till recently he'd had no motivation for anything. He'd been nothing but a failure. If it weren't automatic, he would've stopped breathing. There was no point to it anymore. After humoring Obi-Wan for some time, he'd eventually started to reform his thoughts. Perhaps, he'd wondered, he could still be useful. He could do nothing to honor Master at this point, but he could at least honor Padmé for a short while longer before ending it. If he taught Obi-Wan and Siri how to defend themselves, if he ensured their safety and their youngling's safety, then he would have done everything he could for Padmé. After all, family came first.
That had been his duty. His reason for living. But Obi-Wan continued to press him, continued to act like he wasn't just some tool. Padmé had done it too, but she'd inevitably chosen to be his enemy, to be Master's enemy. Then again, it hadn't mattered anyway; he'd known it would happen. She'd made herself too much of a threat. But Obi-Wan and Siri were Jedi – the very creatures that had killed Master! And it wasn't like they didn't use him – they'd given him a new name, a new lifestyle – what were they trying to mold him into?
But they were willing to leave it all behind for him. For him.
And then the cipher...
He growled. He glared at the knife, at his one objective left. He was no longer useful even to them, after all. They'd just lied. That's all anyone seemed to do apart from Master.
As if Master didn't lie to you.
He shook his head. No. No. No. Even if Master did lie it wouldn't matter. He wasn't there to be coddled, he wasn't there to be loved. He was there to be used, he was there to serve a purpose.
He felt hollow just thinking it. He always felt hollow, cold. It was his state of being. That was normal.
None of this was normal. Obi-Wan himself pointed it out, and the more he said it, the more it really sank in. The amount of worry and love and care those two Jedi dedicated to their unborn child surpassed anything he'd ever seen. But that was because their youngling was a person. He wasn't.
Right? Right?
He was a weapon. He was a tool. He was whatever he needed to be.
He was defective. He was useless. He had so many flaws and he knew it. He'd always known it. He'd just hid from it in the past, but he couldn't do that anymore. Not anymore.
He'd left this morning to try and return to his usual habits, to try and shut that dragon up once and for all. He'd returned to hear Obi-Wan and Siri talking about him. Some irrational side of him refused to enter and interrupt, whispered that he should instead listen so he could hear what they really thought of him. They would speak freely if they didn't think he was around; they wouldn't have to play to him—like the governor a voice whispered, and he shook his head fiercely.
Siri had been speaking about what he'd done to Padmé. They'd mentioned that he might kill them. That was all he'd needed to hear. They didn't care for him. He was still an enemy. Everything they'd said had been a lie.
But why would they lie about all that? What were they trying to use him for? Were they actually trying to find hiding places for the Alliance when Obi-Wan had asked about areas where they could avoid the Empire? He wouldn't help them. He wouldn't help the Alliance. Master had died because of the Alliance and the Jedi. He would never help them.
And that had been it. His purpose was finished. Padmé was gone, Master was gone, the governor had betrayed him, and Obi-Wan and Siri were still his enemies.
He hadn't had the motivation to end it in the past. But now he did. Now he would end it. Now he wanted to end it. And that in itself was the reason he would – he wasn't supposed to want anything.
But Siri was right, the dragon whispered. Because you do have desires, you do want him back. You do want to be loved.
He sliced his hand open and hissed, letting the pain drown out the voice of that poison inside him.
He was defective. He always had been. He'd loved Master. He'd loved Padmé. He'd almost loved Obi-Wan. And love was a weakness. It was why he'd killed Padmé. It was why he'd obeyed Master, why he'd obeyed Obi-Wan, why he was in this karking state in the first place. It brought nothing but this – emptiness, uselessness, an unfulfilling existence. He should have never been born.
"You're a person, you're Anakin Skywalker, or… even perhaps Darth Vader, if you choose to be. But you must be the one to choose. Not Palpatine, not Padmé… not us."
He'd almost believed them. He'd almost believed Obi-Wan, almost given in to that damn dragon and its secret whispers about his true nature. How could he have been such an idiot?!
"Anakin!"
He flinched, not having sensed their arrival, too lost in his own thoughts and feelings he knew he shouldn't even have (you've always been defective, after all – even Padmé noticed it). Turning, he saw Obi-Wan and Siri rushing towards him, worry on their faces, the Force fluctuating wildly around them. His eyes settled on Obi-Wan's lightsaber, and he dropped the knife, immediately summoning the hilt instead. Both Jedi jumped, and he sensed a flicker of danger as Siri reflexively reached for her own weapon before stopping herself.
Stupid woman. Why would she stop herself? Did she really think the act was still fooling him, or was she just weak like all the other Jedi? She'd been the more promising between the couple – feisty, aggressive, and an overall better fighter, whereas Obi-Wan had been less likely to be provoked, more introspective, and far too intuitive. But she'd also been the more distant, the less likely to actually listen to him. Not that it made a damn bit of difference now.
"Anakin, what are you doing?" Obi-Wan asked in an even tone as if he already knew the answer. That tone drove him insane – did Obi-Wan just assume he knew nothing? Did he think that he was brainless because he'd followed Master, because he was an Imperial, a Sith? Were all Jedi that pompous?
"Get away from me," he ground out, his gut on fire, his head spinning, his body burning with something he didn't recognize. He didn't know how to stop it, either; in that moment the only thing he could do when he looked at them was imagine their corpses on the ground, hear their screams as he cut them to pieces. He felt sick just thinking about it.
Obi-Wan and Siri exchanged looks. What were they planning now? How would they entertain themselves, playing with his thoughts? Would they invent some new relative of his and say that person cared about him too? Would they come up with some new tactic to prove how concerned they were about him? Like they actually knew what true concern was!
You're not supposed to know, either.
He took another shaky breath, growing dizzy. He activated the lightsaber, watching steam curl from the blade as rain made contact with it, evaporating instantly.
As he watched Obi-Wan and Siri's somewhat frantic expressions, something in him almost made him smile – they had better fear him. But what little logic was left in him noted that their fear didn't feel like the emotion he sensed when he was about to kill someone. They weren't scared for their own safety. He felt the burning sensation drain out of him, and he mumbled, "It's better this way."
"Stop it!" Siri called out. "You think you're worth so little that you can just throw your life away like this? What happened, what's wrong?"
What's wrong? You broke my trust. You don't actually care. You still view me as an enemy. You almost made me listen to you.
What's wrong? The cipher knows I'm here. The Empire knows I'm here. I'm a threat to you. You'll die if I live.
He clenched the hilt even tighter, desperate to banish the last thought. He didn't care for them. How could he, after they still viewed him the way they did? But why would it matter how they viewed him? He was nothing, he was nothing damn it!
"It's better this way," he repeated, even quieter than before.
He wondered for a moment what would happen after he dug the blade into his chest. Would he see Master afterward? Would he see Padmé? Or would he just vanish into the nothingness from which he'd sprung? Would he feel emptier than he did now? Was that even possible?
It didn't matter anymore. He finally had a strong purpose, he finally knew what he needed to do, what he wanted to do.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan said so softly he almost didn't hear him. Maybe he actually hadn't; he could've sworn he heard it in his head. Somehow that Jedi had forged a bond with him, strong and filled with warmth and… he felt heat swim through his head, making him dizzy. His vision blurred. "Don't do this."
"Why." He said in a low tone. It wasn't even a question anymore. He didn't need an answer. He'd demanded one constantly in the past, not understanding what could possibly be motivating these people who were related to a woman he'd murdered, these people who were Jedi. He'd had to know what they were planning, what they were thinking. He'd had to know if Padmé was the only anomaly. He'd had to know if others saw what she saw. He'd had to know if it was true.
But now he didn't. The conclusion would be the same either way.
"Because you're family," Obi-Wan said. Because we forgive you.
He stared at him, his breath stolen away. Immediately he glanced at Siri, looking for confirmation, gauging to see if she was watching her husband. Was she silently asking him if she should play along, silently demanding why he would say such a thing? But she wasn't looking at Obi-Wan. She was looking at him. They were both looking at him. The Force somehow warmed, stopping his shivering from the cool rain, filling him with something he'd never felt before.
The lie fell apart. The dragon roared. His ears rang. His head spun. His eyes stung. He trembled where he stood, the lightsaber hilt nearly slipping out of his slack grip.
You can't love a tool. You can't love a means to an end.
"I see a man who puts his heart and soul into everything he does. I see a man who wants to be loved, who wants to be needed, who feels so deeply he gets burned. I see a man who wants to share his life with someone and feel like he's worth something."
You can't care. You're Jedi.
"We care because you deserve a better life than the one you've lived. You deserve to live."
He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve anything. He was defective, he was a mess of half developed emotions that he wasn't even supposed to feel and wrongly placed trust in people who only hurt him.
They couldn't forgive him. They couldn't be right about this. They were lying. They were lying! He would never forgive the Jedi and the Alliance for killing Master, so how could they so easily say they forgave him for killing Padmé? Obi-Wan had clearly demonstrated he'd loved his sister. He had to be lying.
They were lying!
But they weren't. The Force sang with truth. He was deaf to everything but his own breathing, numb to everything but the heat emanating from the Jedi, blind to everything but the light radiating through the Force.
His eyes stung. His breathing quickened. This… was this love?
But… but Master had…
Master had never loved him. Why would he use him as a comparative? Master had been devoid of such weaknesses, and he'd tried so damn hard to be that way too.
But… how could they love him? They weren't idiots, they had to realize how vulnerable this made them, opening themselves up like this to someone who could easily kill them.
Was this love? Strong, determined, stubborn beyond all reason?
Unconditional?
His eyes stung even more. He couldn't breathe anymore. He gasped. The blade deactivated, the hilt falling to the ground harmlessly. He gasped again. Something leaked out of his eyes, something overwhelmed his entire being more than he'd ever felt. He gasped again.
Siri and Obi-Wan's expressions changed. They were no longer watching him anxiously. Instead, some foreign look crossed their faces. Siri took a small step towards him before growing determined and running to him, grabbing him and pulling him to her. At her touch he fell apart, losing all sensation in his legs and collapsing to the ground. She held him firmly, softening the fall. He hiccupped, and a sound escaped his lips that he nearly didn't recognize: a sob. He was crying. He was crying - he'd never cried in his life.
Panic tried to settle in, but it didn't matter. He was already in pieces. He couldn't stop it anymore. He sobbed again. Obi-Wan was by his side a heartbeat later, holding him as well. The tiniest part of him screamed against all of it, tried to push them away, but his energy was gone. He was gone. The lightsaber sat uselessly on the ground, and he didn't bother reaching for it or Siri's.
One couldn't kill what was already dead.
Darth Vader finally let go, and nineteen years of anguish spilled out.
The curtains of rain saturated Firro all the way into the night. As the rain started to let up, two people half carried a young man to the dormitory residence provided to those seeking sanctuary on Ferrasco. No one noticed their approach since everyone had taken refuge indoors, and the hallway to their room was thankfully empty.
Obi-Wan and Siri guided Anakin into the dorm. The boy was still crying, though not to the degree he had been. Siri sat against the back wall, holding him and running her hand through his hair as Obi-Wan grabbed some towels. She hadn't let him go since first hugging him, since the Force had trembled and some instinct had kicked in as she saw him fall apart. Apparently it was the same instinct that had pushed Obi-Wan, the same instinct that would motivate any parent.
Eventually Obi-Wan returned with the towels and a change of clothes. Siri handed Anakin over to her husband so she could dry off first, and Obi-Wan wordlessly took her place. After both Jedi had changed clothes, they dried Anakin, who was unable to do much of anything apart from helplessly cry on Obi-Wan's shoulder. As Siri toweled his hair, she exchanged a glance with her husband, and the two silently decided that the bed would be the best place for him tonight.
After a minute or so they helped him stand, and Obi-Wan climbed in first before reaching over and pulling Anakin up to him. Siri followed, and the three settled under the blanket, Anakin snuggled between the couple, still hiccupping softly as the Force bled sadness and mild panic at being unable to stop himself. Siri draped her arm over the boy and reached for Obi-Wan, who also laid his arm over Anakin to hold his wife's forearm.
Siri squeezed Obi-Wan's arm, and the two both gently lulled the boy to sleep with the help of the Force. Then they looked into each other's eyes, not needing to say anything.
Their question from the morning had been answered.
Yay packed chapter and not prattling on! Ah, finally, after 18 chapters of beating Anakin into the ground I grant him some comfort. :3
I'm terrible, I know. Anyway, let me know what you think! :)