It was all still, sleek and quiet in that dark corner of space. A lone Star Destroyer floated about, its silhouette giving away cold, eery vibes.
Inside, a morally defeated troop of lookalike men stood in line for a celebratory meal, though the atmosphere was far from festive.
One of these men, clad in blue-sprayed armor and sporting lemon-yellow-sprayed buzzed hair covered his face with a gloved hand, unable to down any of the real food that was being served to him (as opposed to battlefield rations). He felt utterly crippled. Rex looked around, seeing what he normally saw: his Clone brothers. They appeared unchanged, or almost, yet Rex could barely recognize them after Order 66. He was thinking of many things, of his values and of his priorities, obedience being the least of them, paradoxically. He was mourning past and present places, happenings and people. Most of all, he was mourning Fives. Fear for the future - and for his integrity - was his everpresent companion. Rex recognized his responsibilities, though. He was brave, but not daring. Otherwise, he wouldn't have survived. Faith in himself seemed to bring back a spark of hope into him. He would figure out something. It would take time, and learning, but he would.
Young Lord Vader strolled along the Star Destroyer's long corridor. He was by himself, as he had no desire for company.
His lips pressed together, he was as handsome as he was volatile.
The silence and apparent quietness, though, must not misguide a spectator's senses: Vader was seething, his rage boiling deep inside of him like a bubbling cauldron waiting to explode.
He should've been happy: he had triumphed in every endeavor he'd taken on since accepting the Dark Side. He had a squadron of faithful men alongside him. He controlled whole fleets. He had vanquished his most threatening enemies. He was on his way to gaining even more power. Most importantly, his wife was alive, on the Star Destroyer with him.
He had every reason to be satisfied.
And yet, he decided to embrace those very same reasons to...feed his anger.
Vader had not considered that after achieving so much, and so quickly at that, he would feel so dissatisfied.
He had acted like the master of his own destiny, and now this was driving him mad.
Padme sure was on the very same Star Destroyer as him. But she was locked inside her room, refusing to speak to him. He couldn't look at her in the eye, for he couldn't bear the mix of fear, disgust and contempt she reserved for him. She was alive, but was a captive, and her discontent was gnawing at him. Why wouldn't she understand? How...dare she...criticize his actions? It wasn't supposed to be going like this.
Padme had given birth to healthy twins a few hours earlier, right after getting so worked up with him on Mustafar, but Vader knew he wasn't welcome to visit them. Her anxiety, worry and disappointment mixed with the fatigue of arguing with him had caused her placenta to rupture. Soon thereafter, the twins had been born via emergency C-section, and all were physically well. Not mentally so, though. He found it ironic that he was being perceived as his children's biggest threat. Yet, he knew he couldn't complain, nor even allow private thoughts to occupy his mind for long, because he knew he was being watched. He realized this more than ever, and while he wouldn't have cared about it normally, now this awareness was irritating him immensely.
With Sidious' overbearing presence in the picture, he was also realizing how difficult it would be to juggle the slippery slopes that were his relationship to the Sith Lord (whose power he had grossly underestimated), his personal life (which he increasingly felt he had no agency for) and his own ambitions (which were still a blur in his mind).
He didn't appreciate that he sensed heightened fear from his men, the 501st, whenever he approached them.
Perhaps, deep down, he was starting to consider whether Padme was right...wasn't he? No. Definitely not. Too enveloped in darkness, his heart wasn't open to reason and questioning.
For these reasons alone, Vader was a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode.
However, if something was really ticking him off, it was...Obi-Wan Kenobi. Vader was disappointed. He had expected his old master to at least try and contact him. How could he ignore him, it was beyond his understanding. Vader felt his connection through the Force. He knew he was alive. Yet, he hadn't shown up. Didn't he care enough? He never had. Who did he think he was, snubbing him? He would pay for his insolence!
Vader clenched a fist, steam almost radiating off him.
He was so angry he could've strangled his old master with his bare hands. He could almost picture him, smoothing his beard in a corner with a slightly sarcastic expression on his face...
"It's not over Obi-Wan! It's not over!"
By having apparently forgotten him, was Obi-Wan succeeding where everyone else had failed? Was he insinuating doubt in the heart of young, unstable Vader?