Chapter 6

"There is much pain that is quite noiseless; and vibrations that make human agonies are often a mere whisper in the roar of hurrying existence. There are glances of hatred that stab and raise no cry of murder; robberies that leave man or woman for ever beggared of peace and joy, yet kept secret by the sufferer /committed to no sound except that of low moans in the night, seen in no writing except that made on the face by the slow months of suppressed anguish and early morning tears. Many an inherited sorrow that has marred a life has been breathed into no human ear."

George Eliot

Lord Vader walked down the long corridors of the Rakesh Detention Center, Commander Gaversom almost running to keep up with his long strides. At least, likely as close to running as the commander ever came. Gaversom was a round little ball of a man. With a nasel voice and close-set eyes, he resembled nothing so much as a Gammorean pig. As they walked, the Commander kept up a running monologue of the Center's various prisoners, staff, and facilities.

In truth, Vader was only half listening. He could not have cared less if the entire facility fell down around their ears. Still he did what was expected of him. He listened, keeping an ear open for failure. If he found any incompetence on the Commander's part, the man would be executed. This too was expected.

The sounds of the facility hummed around them; the flickering lights overhead illuminating the dark corridors. Rakesh was one of the worst detention centers Vader had ever seen. It was meant to be. The entire facility was carved into one of the many cliffs that were native to the planet. When a prisoner first entered the facility, he wouldn't notice much. The hanger and first three levels, which were comprised of Operations and the barracks, were covered with durasteel plates, lending an air of civility to the rough terrain. However, as one travelled deeper into the prisoners wing, the civility slowly disappeared. The air became damp and chill, the walls rough, jagged black stone.

Here in the lower levels, where only the most dangerous of criminals were kept, the cells consisted of solid rock, with large durasteel doors set into a stone frame. The low hanging glow-lamps cast heavy shadows on the rough walls. Even the Commander, who had been happily occupied in listening to his own voice, quieted here. Vader could sense his disquiet through the Force.

The lower levels were like a tomb, the air still and dank. Here, the only sounds that pierced the eerie silence were the low wailing and keening of prisoners. Occasionally, this was interjected by piercing cries that sent shivers crawling down the Commander's spine. His beady little eyes darted around and beads of sweat trailed down his corpulent face. Commander Gaversom was a disgrace, his cowardice plain to all. Vader was tempted to kill him, but it would hardly be worth having to deal with the amount of paperwork that Gaversom's death would generate.

As they approached the turbolift, Gaversom stepped back, allowing Vader to enter the lift before waddling in behind him.

"Only three more levels to go, my Lord. Levels thirty-six and thirty-seven are detention levels. Level thirty-eight contains our interrogation facility and deep storage," Gaversom explained nervously as he activated the lift. Vader nodded curtly, acknowledging his words.

Suddenly, Vader froze. He was forced to grip the lift's railing as a wave of dizziness almost caused his knees to buckle. The dizziness passed and he was hit with a sharp pain in his chest as his lungs seized up, and he could not breathe.

He heard it then. The voice he had not heard in ten long years.

"Ani..."

The sound of her voice caused him to instinctively snap his head around, searching for the source of the voice. It couldn't be . . . it couldn't be! She was dead. Padme had died at his hands more than ten years ago, paying the price for sins that were not her own. She had died, leaving him alone in the darkness. Still, he could not resist the desire to reach for her, his mind searching for her presence through the Force.

He nearly fell to his knees when he found the tenuous link that had allowed him to hear her plea. She was alive. He could feel her.

Padme's presence was a bright beacon in his mind. Instinctively he reached for her, latching onto her Force signature. Feelings and sensations swamped him, and he knew they were hers. Realization struck him, not as a deduction, but as a certain knowledge; she was alive now, but if he did not get to her soon, she would not be much longer.

He allowed the Force to guide him, immersing himself in its flow, the only thing driving him, his bone deep desire to find her. She was close, far closer than he had expected. He didn't take the time to ponder this. There would be time to consider it later.

Ignoring the Commander's concerned questioning, Vader pushed the man aside and hit the button that would take him to the facility's lowest level.

The lift dropped, its Force-aided descent causing the terrified Commander to scream in fear. Vader ignored him, the mental tunnel he was in not allowing any outside distractions. Vader's entire body was tensed, every muscle prepared to spring into action the moment the lift doors opened.

Moments later they hit the ground, the Force cushion surrounding the lift the only thing that kept it from crumpling in on itself. The Commander was still screeching as the lift's doors slammed open with a Force-aided shove. Vader practically flew out the door, his form a dark blur against the sterile grey that surrounded them.

Vader allowed the Force to course through him, allowing him to move at preternatural speeds. He flew down the long hallway, not pausing to register any of the things around him. He ignored the baffled troopers, the screams of prisoners, the many doors and chambers. He was focused on his destination, and he would not be deterred.

He came to a stop in front of a large door. The door was bolted into the floor- top, bottom and side. It was made of some black metal that blended in easily with the surrounding rock.

Vader's eyes scanned over the door, looking for some means of opening it. Finding none, he simply blew it off its hinges with a Force blast.

Bending low to step into the dim interior, Vader's mask adjusted to the dimly lit room, allowing him to see clearly. His eyes frantically searched the room. He sensed her; he could feel her presence. But his eyes were not deceiving him, the room was empty except for a food prep unit and a small droid in its charging stand.

Then he saw it. There, set into the floor, was a round metal door. This one had a lock. He whirled to face the little commander who, along with several troopers, had finally caught up to him.

"You," he ordered harshly. "Open this door. Now!"

Gaversom stepped back at the force of his words. "I...I can't Milord," he stammered weakly.

"What do you mean, you can't?" Vader bellowed, the whole room shaking with the Force of his rage.

"I..I don't have access to this room, Milord. No one on base does. In fact ,I had nearly forgotten its existence. This is classified as a maximum security cell for a highly dangerous prisoner."

Vader barely noted the satisfying thud of Gaversom's body hitting the wall as he turned to face the hatch. In his desperation, a strong wave of power coursed through him. The remaining troopers watched, stunned, as the thick durasteel door peeled back like the lid of a rations can and smashed into the droid stand.

Vader, on the other hand, wasted no time on observation. He moved forward to peer into the pit below. It was black as pitch, but the mechanical eyes of his mask quickly switched into night vision, casting a blood red glow into the depths. As his eyes registered the sight before him, his heart nearly stopped.

Padme lay floating in a pool of water. Her skin was unnaturally pale and her dark hair floating around her in a watery halo. The heavy, bloodstained material of her dress floated around her, making her look like a slain angel. Vader flinched as the thought entered his mind. He shook it off quickly. He had more important things to focus on than his guilt at the moment.

The troopers watched in stunned amazement as the limp body of a small woman floated up from the gaping maw of the pit. Her long hair and dress dripped water. Even more amazing was the way Vader carefully lifted her out of the air, cradling her like a piece of fine Denuvian crystal. They had no opportunity to see more because Vader pushed passed them roughly, almost running with the small, limp body clutched in his arms.

Vader monitored Padme's vitals through the Force. She was incredibly weak and only his sheer force of will kept her heart beating and her lungs slowly inflating. She needed immediate medical care.

His mind raced agilely through the options. The medical wing of the base was closest but they wouldn't be able to treat her with the level of skill available on his flagship. Decision made, he left the lift in a Force-aided run, his heart pounding in his chest. As he ran, a silent plea echoed in his mind, "Please let her be all right. Let me make it in time. Let me save her this time."

The journey to the Executer was a blur, and if he was asked afterward what had occurred between the time he found her, and when he found himself watching as medical team transferred her limp body to the waiting biobed, he would have been hard pressed to account for the time. The things he remembered were the weak sound of her heart, how small and fragile she felt in his arms, and what it felt like to touch her again.

In a matter of moments, it was over and Padme was safely ensconced in the medical bay, undergoing emergency treatment. Only then did the man who was once Anakin Skywalker allow himself to think, to react, to feel. If anyone had entered the small anteroom of the medical bay, they would have been shocked to see the indestructible Lord Vader, sitting in a chair, his head in his hands, and his whole body shaking.

He still couldn't believe she was alive. All these years, all this time, she had been alive. And he had almost lost her again, and still could. It shocked him. But for the first time, since, well since he could remember, he could feel again. Emotions made unfamiliar by their long absence coursed through him, frightening him with their intensity. He had forgotten what if felt like- joy, love, and fear. He was afraid; afraid he might lose her again, afraid of her reaction when she saw him.

After Padme had 'died', his heart had died with her. And over time, as the people who saw him as a man became fewer and fewer, so did his feelings. They had faded over time until he stopped feeling all together, merely existing in a sort of eternal limbo. It wasn't unpleasant. In truth, he hadn't even noticed it. He had never thought about it at all. He rarely thought at all. It was so much easier to exist in the empty void, simply doing what his Master commanded, and doing what was expected of him.

He had won countless victories, destroyed all challengers to the Empire, and yet it was hollow for him. There was no pleasure to be had in the destruction of his enemies. There was no joy in the victory, no pride, no glory. He had gained everything he once thought he wanted, only to lose the one thing he needed most.

Memories, long forgotten, assailed him, washing over him in a barrage of feeling. He had forgotten so many little things about her, little things that became so huge during the silence of the night. They had tormented him, tearing at the open wound in his heart.

So, he had done the only thing he could do. He took every memory, every thought, and locked it behind deep mental walls, burying it deep in the depths of his heart, locking away the part of him that was her's alone. He had locked away his heart, and locked away his pain.

And now, that part of him he had thought long dead, had risen to the surface once again. It had been resurrected by the discovery of his heart. For so long, everything had been empty shades of grey and black, without taste or flavor. But now, it was as though someone had lifted a veil, allowing him to see the truth. Now that he had her once again, now that he could feel once again, he was loathe to go back to that sterile void he had existed in so long.

Moving to the one-way mirror that looked down into the medbay, he watched as the medical team worked to restore her vitals. She was his heart and he would not lose her again.

If she died this time, she would not go alone.