Vader stood in the hall outside of Olee's door. He wanted to go back inside, but everything within him told him he shouldn't. He was scared. Scared of rejection. But what was there to fear? He had already proven his theory --- that Olee put across this facade of wanting to resist, when the truth was, she was desperate to stay.
The security code on her door was disabled the second night of her so called "incarceration". All she needed to do was press the "open" button. There were no guards on the outside of the suite. Vader scheduled their appearances to coincide with his comings and goings.
Had Olee tried, even once to escape, she'd have known there was nothing to prevent her from leaving the Tower.
Vader sighed, bringing his nerves to a tolerable level, then pressed the open button and walked inside again.
Olee was out on the balcony, sulking. She turned at the sound of his approach, hands folded across her chest.
"You are welcome to marry Filli, if you want to. I... will... not stand in your way."
Olee tossed the hair from her eyes with a swipe of her hand. "Well, it's not like I needed your permission," she griped.
"I am aware of this," he replied. Olee detected some contrition in his bass like robotic voice. She left the balcony, walking toward him and Vader surprised her, in reaching for her hand and taking it into his own.
She sighed and reluctantly complied. The strong mechanical gloved hand folded around hers softly. He was tired of fighting. He fought his entire life and what had it ever gotten him but that suit?
"If you would have me, Olee Starstone-" he started.
Have him? Her mouth dropped at the start of his words. But she said nothing, allowing him to continue. Possibly, to let him embarrass himself he thought.
Vader fell silent.
"Spit it out," Olee replied. "What are you trying to say?"
He pulled her closer by way of holding her hand, and pressed close to her soft body. Olee gave him a confused look.
"You didn't bring me here... to be your prisoner, did you?" she asked, lifting her eyes to stare at the dark mask.
"Alas, you have figured me out."
"Then, if I'm not here to be your prisoner-"
"When I saw you on Kashykk I had a vision. The first, in weeks. But it was too soon, my nerves were already raw from..."
Olee laid a palm on his chest. "Please, continue," she whispered. Finally, she would get the answers she needed. Who was he? What happened to him? she wondered. Whatever it was, must have been deeply traumatizing.
His head dropped. He moved from the embrace, holding both of her hands to his chest. "What happened to me no longer matters. I did it to myself and must live with my choices."
His choices? A heavy price to pay, indeed.
"Then what do you want from me? What did you see in your vision?"
"When we fought, I overpowered you easily. Like the others. But unlike the others, I didn't destroy you, I allowed you to leave."
"Why?"
"I have no answer. I only knew we would see each other again, but under better circumstances."
"So you staged my imprisonment?"
"In the vision, you were here in the tower. And you were wearing that."
He pointed to the flimsy off-white gown she wore.
Olee slipped from Vader's grasp, turning her back to him. He touched her shoulder, his fingers sliding down the side of her neck, sensually.
Olee spoke without turning. "Don't do that," she said.
"Why?"
"Is that what you saw in your vision? I'm going to marry filli, I can't-"
"You already have," he replied.
Olee laid a hand over her forehead and exhaled.
"You can't resist."
"I can. And I will."
He grabbed Olee's arm and pulled her to him once more.
"I don't get it, how-"
"I have my ways," he replied.
A year in the suit without human contact was torture. He needed to be close to someone, he needed to be close to Olee.
Yes, women were a weakness, probably the result of leaving his mother at so young an age, then Padme who he loved til the very day, and now, Olee... who he saw, would accept him despite the suit. She was a hard young woman, tough. Perfect for a man like him.
She shook her head. "When I was a librarian, I studied the archives. The Sith," she nearly choked when she said the word, "have taken a vow of celibacy, much like the Jedi."
Ironically, not even when he was a Jedi, did he honor that vow. Vader shrugged. "I am my own man. The Sith are passionate. And part of that passion is-"
"Lust?"
"No."
He said no more and led her to his bed. He sat on the soft cushioned mattress and pulled her close, her head pressed against his chest. The meanest man in the galaxy, needed a hug.
Olee gave him a tight squeeze, almost motherly, then opened her mouth to speak. But he hushed her. She fell silent, following his lead as he pulled her toward the pillows. Vader gathered her close and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Her leg fell over his leg, and her arm draped across his chest and they snuggled close together.
His hand stroked her arm, lightly, sensually, then roamed the curves of her body. Vader rarely slept, but he closed his eyes. And Olee, still tired, closed hers. But rest would not come as a sharp but pleasing sensation flowed through her body. From him to her -- followed by images, that felt as real as the present. In their minds, it was real. And their bodies didn't know the difference.
It seemed, the Sith had ways of using their "passion" for good.