A/N: My greatest thanks to the anonymous reviewers. I can't respond to you individually, of course, so I'm saying thanks here. You'll have to consider this proactive too, as I'm not comfortable with author notes as a rule.

The Eta-2-Actis rested at the end of the landing pad, its outline largely obscured by continuous sheets of rain. A few flashes of lightening highlighting the ship occasionally. There were few details to take in, but there was one crucial conclusion to be drawn from looking at the solitary craft. The Eta-2-Actis was a single seater starship fighter. Single.

"Did you come here to kill me?" Obi-Wan shouted over the driving rain. Competing with the elements was one fight to be avoided, but this was one question that couldn't wait until they were ensconced in the vehicle. If he made it that far, before Vader tossed him over the side and into the raging waters below. Obi-Wan was a competent swimmer, but he was a pragmatist too. There would be no surviving a fall from here. The height alone would ensure multiple broken bones as he hit the surface, and it was kind of hard to swim with shattered limbs, though he might make an easy meal for the indigenous sea life. See bad in bad. Unless, Vader wasn't joking about sharing his lap...?

Predictably his question was lost in the driving rain. Or was it? Vader's uninterrupted stride seemed to indicate that was the case. It was just as likely that he was being ignored, though, seeing as Vader had observed silence after bodily dragging him from the medical centre a little while ago.

It was a struggle to keep the pace with his left wrist still trapped in Vader's black gloved hand. The difference in strides also wasn't helping. Keeping his balance was also a challenge given the poor visibility and wet slicked surface. His hair stuck to his face, hampering his vision further, and the simple white tunic he wore was soon moulded uncomfortably close to his body.

"Did you come here to kill me?" he shouted again, digging his heels in the ground in an effort to get Vader's attention. The effort was wasted on the slippery platform and all he succeeded in doing was nearly losing his footing, and cutting open the soles of his feet in the process.

Ah, well. They were much closer to the ship now, and there would be plenty of opportunity to ask when they got inside. If, he got inside, rather.

Obi-Wan tried to battle back the beginnings of fear as they crossed the section of the platform with the least width. The pain in his feet not even worthy of consideration given the larger peril. If he was going to die again, so be it. Stop kidding yourself, Kenobi. You're obviously scared because your heart is beating fast enough for two bodies.

The war on fear was swiftly lost when Vader suddenly lifted him clear into the air. Obi-Wan let out an automatic shriek that was thankfully swallowed by the thunderous rain. A good thing, too, as he was unsure he could live it down. Although considering that the rest of his life was going to be over shortly, he might just manage it.

This was it then. The Sith Lord was obviously dissatisfied with your death the first time around, and is now engineering a second demise for you. Don't you feel special? The thought was hardly rational, given everything that had already happened. To be fair, though, rationality was hard to stick to when a mortal enemy raised you high above a fiercely spitting ocean.

Obi-Wan would have liked to have waited with bated breath, but the unexpected opening of his mouth had let in salt water from the spray from a particularly high wave, and he gagged instead. He was too busy spluttering to notice that Vader had lowered him to head height, and was pressing him close to his chest, one arm wrapping securely around his bottom. The other hand still clutching his side.

Obi-Wan's early memories of the crèche were fuzzy at best, but he retained enough instinctive knowledge to respond by wrapping his legs around Vader's torso. Dignified it certainly was not. Maybe not for an adult, but does it look so out of place in the body of a child? Obi-Wan felt the colour immediately blossom in his cheeks despite his reasoning. He felt ridiculous, and his body followed suit. Simple.

Even through the freezing rain, Obi-Wan could feel the hot breath of his captor speaking. With Vader's lips this close to his ear, sound carried easier. "I sense your fear, Obi-Wan. And you're injured. I'll carry you the rest of the way."

There was a strange comfort in that. One that Obi-Wan wasn't ready to acknowledge, even if he did relax the tiniest bit. Put it down to fatigue, Kenobi. You're knackered and your muscles are overtaxed.

The rest of the journey passed much swifter. Despite the partial shielding that being crushed into Vader's chest afforded, Obi-Wan was still soaked through completely, and starting to shiver, by the time they stood by the ship.

Obi-Wan shifted in Vader's grip, silently asking to be set down. Amazingly Vader complied and lowered him to the ground.

With his arms now free, Obi-Wan used the opportunity to wipe the hair from his eyes. To no avail, as the rain kept pouring down, rivers of water continually sluicing down his face. At least Vader fared no better. Obi-Wan settled on holding a hand to his fringe, and finally looked up. He was startled to notice the ship was now painted black, the stark colour relieved slightly by the white and blue astromech droid fitted into the right wing.

"I'm surprised you haven't painted him black, yet," Obi-Wan said quietly, safe in the knowledge that his words would go unheard under the cover of rain.

R2-D2, whistled in greeting. How the old astromech droid had managed to recognise him in this body was remarkable. It was incredibly heartening though. I can't be that much changed, he thought with lifted spirits, if a mere droid knows me. But then, R2-D2, had always been peculiar. "It's good to see you too, old friend," he shouted with genuine warmth, smiling for the first time since awakening to this nightmare.

Vader must have sensed his happiness because he was promptly cuffed over the head. "It's just a piece of metal," he growled before climbing into the cockpit, roughly hauling Obi-Wan inside by nothing more than his abused left wrist. Obi-Wan stifled the sharp gasp of pain at being lifted high on just that one small joint.

There was just enough time to register R2-D2's indignant beeps before the viewport slid shut, cutting off all sound, and shutting Sith and Jedi together in the tight space.

Obi-Wan called on old breathing exercises to calm his nerves as Vader secured him to his lap with the same durable straps he used on himself.

Within seconds, Obi-Wan was fitted snugly against the Sith Lord, the top of his head resting just under the man's chin, and his back resting solidly against Vader's chest. Not the most comfortable position and not where he wanted to be. Still, it beat drowning. That's it, stay positive. Ignore the throbbing of your dislocated wrist, and your still bleeding feet. Little things, Kenobi. They can be healed later. You can accomplish that much at least.

"There was no call for that," he said quietly, as soon as he was settled. He trusted the Sith Lord knew to what he referred as he had yet to complain about his treatment. Yet. One could only suffer so much, and Jedi or not he liked a good moan as much as the next person.

"It has its purpose," Vader said coldly, before seeming to reconsider his stance, fingers stalling on the console in a pre-flight warm up.

It was with a small amount of satisfaction that Obi-Wan watched Vader open up communications with the droid to apologise. Anakin Skywalker had always been fond of droids, of anything mechanical really and Obi-Wan was glad that that at least hadn't changed. R2-D2 could prove to be a valuable ally indeed, and the last thing he needed was to see the faithful if quirky droid twisted into scrap metal by a jealous Sith Lord.

Obi-Wan was just beginning to drift off when a small spot of grey in the black of space caught his attention on the view screen. "Is that...?"

"The Exactor, yes," Vader stated sternly, sounding strangely disappointed and pained. Wasn't the ship good enough for his Lordship? Perhaps leaning forward had made the straps dig into him? It wouldn't hurt to lean further forward now, would it? Obi-Wan stopped just in time, marvelling at such an incredibly juvenile thought. Stop it, Kenobi. Do not lose yourself to whatever this is.

"Are you listening?" Vader demanded, his anger filling what little space was left in the cockpit. It was suddenly harder to move, and it was harder to perceive things too, like being partially cloaked from the Force.

"Really now," Obi-Wan answered dryly. "The last thing the ship needs is another passenger."

"What!"

"Are you sure this ship can support such hatred?" Obi-Wan elaborated.

"You're not making any sense. I shouldn't expect more from a child."

Obi-Wan bit back his own indignation at the slur. While it was true that he wasn't a child where it mattered, even he could appreciate that even a youngling would be insulted by that unfavourable generalisation. Rise above it, Kenobi. You're a Jedi, first and foremost.

"The Dark Side is heavy, Vader," he began patiently, with an ominous feeling that his even temper wasn't going to last this encounter. "It is a physical presence in its own right in certain states, and right now you are projecting so much of the blasted stuff that I'm finding it difficult to move. Or are you so consumed by it that you cannot sense it?"

"You're just overly sensitive to power, never having had it," Vader said dismissively, still treating him like a precocious child. "I can't help it if you're so weak that you cannot withstand the power of the Dark Side."

"I'm doing a good enough job of withstanding you," Obi-Wan grumbled.

"Not that well, given all your moaning!"

"Why so angry?" Obi-Wan countered, struggling to turn his head to look at his captor, but it was like moving through sand such was the restriction. "If this is how you are going to react over the little things, I'm going to petition for adoption, because frankly I don't think I'll survive any greater displays of your power. Me being so puny an' all." He said the last in a deliberate Outer Rim dialect, imitating the voice of a young Anakin Skywalker. It was a rather good impression too, he thought.

"That's not funny, Obi-Wan," Vader said in a whisper soft voice.

Sith! He shouldn't have said that. Sith Lords weren't exactly known for a sense of humour. What happened to treading carefully?

The sudden shift in the volume of sound was disconcerting. The anger that filled the cockpit was also dissipating, allowing free movement but if anything the air of danger had thickened because of it.

Vader had taken his hands off the controls.

Obi-Wan tried to speak, to stall, to do something, anything to sideline whatever Vader was planning, convinced it was going to hurt horribly. And it did hurt, to feel those murderous hands close around him, just not in the way he expected because the hold was protective and possessive, the arms tightening as Vader rested his chin atop his crown. The feather light pressure hard to ignore for the simple fact that it was difficult to grow accustomed to its presence.

Followed by the biggest pressure of all, as Vader spoke softly again. "What makes you think I'll let go?"

Silence, with nothing but the herculean warship growing larger on the view screen to distract Obi-Wan from the terrible promise spoken. Speak, Kenobi. Say something. Break this terrible moment before your chest seizes up from the tension alone. The straps certainly felt tighter.

"You spoke of the ship earlier," he got out rather shakily. "I'm sorry but my attention drifted. What were you saying?"

"That's ok," Vader said gently with just the smallest touch of disappointment slipping through, tone belying his true mood. Obi-Wan sensed his hatred, and ordinarily it would be enough to put him even further on his guard, if that were even possible, but the corrosive emotion was not directed at him and was focused inwards instead.

Clearly, his response was not the one that Vader wanted. Obi-Wan didn't want to dwell on why that was or why Vader was suddenly so disgusted with himself, so he put it from his mind, focusing instead on the next words to leave the Sith Lord's mouth. It also seemed unwise to let his attention wander a second time.

"A gift from my master." Words clipped and impersonal. "It now flies under Imperial colours, and will be used to hunt down the last of the Jedi."

"Hm," Obi-Wan said unconcernedly, refusing to be baited but feeling himself grow cold all the same, his still damp tunic a nice complement to his emotional state.

The rest of the trip passed in chilly silence.

Obi-Wan only wished the flight was as static as the atmosphere inside the cockpit, but it was not to be as Vader lazily piloted the craft closer to their destination, and decided to perform spins and other taxing aerial manoeuvres for the hell of it. And without the aid of his hands, too, which still held onto him tightly.

Obi-Wan had a fine view of the Imperial Star Destroyer as a consequence. Knowing this behemoth was under Vader's command did not fill him with confidence. The galaxy was really in trouble.

A particularly daring ride along the underside of the Exactor triggered a few choice Huttese swear words that Obi-Wan was wise enough not to voice aloud. Obi-Wan swore that Vader was just using the Force for show in an effort to vex him. It was working, too. It wasn't easy seeing the ease with which another Force adept accessed a power that was now so elusive and unreliable under his command. It was damn right annoying.

The rocking of the ship wasn't helping his nausea much, either. He wanted to ask Vader to stop, but even Anakin would only have been encouraged by an admittance of bodily weakness. The discomfort of his former master was usually enough to spur him on to perform even crazier aerial stunts.

The tension of holding himself so still, and the necessity of keeping control over his tongue meant that Obi-Wan was as tight as a bowstring by the time they smoothly docked into an enormous hangar. One populated by row upon row of clone troopers. A still sea of white upon a backdrop of military grey. Not the most comforting landscape given recent history.

"Relax, Obi-Wan," Vader chided, before opening the viewport.

"I'm finding that a little difficult," he got out between tightly clenched teeth, feeling more drained than he had in a long time.

"I knew you were tired," Vader said smugly as he deftly extracted the two of them from the cockpit with minimal effort. Obi-Wan was glad that he was sensibly carried this time, as he doubted his wrist could take a repeat performance without parting company. The area around his left arm was already beginning to swell, an ugly bluish purple obscuring pale freckled skin.

Obi-Wan knew he should react, but he really was tired at this point, and was just about struggling to keep his eyes open. Perhaps the Force would be of some assistance in lending him strength? Obi-Wan encountered silence when he reached out. Terrific. Nice to know it can be relied upon for the most basic things. It would be prudent to work out what he could and could not do when he had the opportunity, because there was nothing worse or more potentially humiliating than utilising weapons one couldn't master or rely on. Above all though, it was incredibly dangerous, and the mark of someone desperate or stupid. Speaking of stupid...

Obi-Wan remembered Boss Nass fondly belittling Jar Jar Binks at the celebration feast for his misuse of energy balls on the Great Grass Plains. Now, there was a good example of what not to do. Force forbid, he ever did anything so idiotic.

As soon as they touched down, the clone troopers saluted in a co-ordinated movement that was stunning for the numbers involved.

"Efficient," Obi-Wan idly commented, deliberately underplaying what he was sure was a point of pride.

"The Empire moves quickly to secure peace. Not like your precious Republic," Vader sneered, "bickering for months on end while people are dying."

Obi-Wan stifled a yawn. He was tempted to yawn widely just to exaggerate the tedium of Vader's claim, but he was resolved to be more cautious, now that his future seemed less uncertain. He was also worried that such a gesture would look immensely childish. Infantile behaviour was the last thing he wanted to exhibit before a man with designs to be his father.

"I'm not going to argue this, with you," Obi-Wan responded calmly, unwilling to set off this time bomb any further given his fast closing eyelids. It was not wise to argue with a mind that was fast wandering, as it often did while tired. The rigid controls Obi-Wan kept in place fast unravelling when fatigued. An efficient, quick mind succumbing to daydreams.

Vader missed nothing. "Don't worry. I'll get you off to bed soon," he promised, patting his head.

Obi-Wan endured it without reacting, most of his energy focused on standing, the soles of his feet protesting the new pressure. There was a time and place for which to stage a battle, and this most definitely wasn't it. A wise man knows when not to fight.

Across from them a solid wall of clone troopers passively watched, white helmets glinting under the harsh lighting. It was impossible to know what they were thinking, if they thought at all when in parade formation.

Seeing them standing at attention, brought to mind one clone in particular. Commander Cody had been a dear friend, and one of the few clones to demonstrate independent thinking. Obi-Wan had trusted him with his life. But even that was for naught. Even Cody had turned in the end, despite their long history. Let it go, Kenobi. Release your pain to the Force. Easier said than done given the mercurial nature of access. At least put it from your mind. You are not so lost that you don't have control of your thoughts.

As Master Yoda said ... Sith. You're a clone too. How easy it is to forget that. So, what does that make you? Are you going to turn to? Is there hidden programming inside you just waiting to be activated at Vader's convenience? It was enough to make a man itch. Obi-Wan imagined it now. A switch labelled, 'Obey, Darth Vader. He is your father.' The itch grew stronger.

It was not helped by the impersonal regard the clones projected. Obi-Wan eyed them warily. The utter stillness they employed when not in battle was a very frightening thing indeed after they turned on the Jedi. They were little better than droids when it came down it, incapable of making choices and unhindered by anything as luxurious or complicated as a moral compass. Obi-Wan suppressed a shiver with the feeling that it was more than warranted.

Were there some among their number responsible for killing Jedi? It didn't matter in any case, because even if they had yet to spill Jedi blood, they soon would under Vader's direction.

Evidently, responsible was the wrong phrasing entirely when describing actions carried out by clones. A weapon is only as useful or as harmful in this case, as its wielder.

The intimate moment and Obi-Wan's musing was interrupted by the sense of independent life-forms advancing. Clones registered very differently in the Force to other life-forms, and nowhere was this more evident than in a hangar of this size, the small retinue of fast approaching life-forms burning bright upon the senses, in contrast to the dim signatures projected by the clones.

The two of them looked to the far distance and watched as a small contingent of Imperial officers approached at a good clip. Something told Obi-Wan that Vader wasn't too pleased at their tardiness. Windpipes were going to be crushed.

Of this he was certain – their appearance had effectively put an end to the lightness that could be sensed from the Sith Lord. Well, it was nice while it lasted. Unsettling yes, but still preferable to absolute darkness. This brought to mind, Darth Maul. Now there was the perfect example of absolute darkness, with nothing as frivolous as humour or play to lighten his consummate evil.

Obi-Wan made comparisons, mind meandering far from the hangar, with only the sound of hurried steps and the sense of rising trepidation intruding upon his thoughts. They did well to be afraid, he thought absently before pursuing his first line of evaluation. Chancellor Palpatine was mistaken if he thought Darth Vader an improvement over his Zabrakian apprentice. Oh, he certainly had the greater power. Anakin Skywalker on a good day had the potential to take out any Jedi in the Temple, excluding the Council. It was only youth that hampered his ability. A fact that would change with age. Still, ability wasn't everything, and as much as it pained him to admit a failing in his apprentice, Obi-Wan knew Anakin Skywalker wasn't a great thinker when one factored in emotions.

Of course he was intelligent, had proved himself many times over the years with his tactical efforts and innate understanding of mechanics. But the lack of personal control and common sense had cost him more minor victories than Obi-Wan could name, and this was by no means limited to the battlefield.

No, as it was true now and as it was true then, Anakin Skywalker had lost most in his own personal life. Alienating friends within the Temple and out of it, rubbing up potential allies the wrong way on routine field missions, and often leaving Obi-Wan to deal with the fallout.

Obi-Wan had often credited Anakin, in playful moments, for his excellent skills in negotiation, but only because he'd had to hone them in seedy bars and backwater establishments, on undercover missions, when Anakin had taken exception to a look or a slight upon his person.

On reflection he should have done more to correct these faults, but there had been a war on and there never seemed to be enough time in which to instil these values. It was also a little wearying and hypocritical to criticise someone so thoroughly, when he himself was just as flawed in other areas. Anakin was doing the best he could under the circumstances. The war was taxing on everyone, and he had reasoned that the last thing his apprentice needed was constant needling. Not that he hadn't criticised, but maybe he should have done a little more of it before the responsibility passed with Anakin's knighting.

It had to be those same weaknesses that had contributed to his fall to the Dark Side. If that were truly the case...? As much as he wanted to deny it, he sensed a small amount of lightness in Vader. A small part that had not fallen to the darkness. It went against all his teachings, but he could not ignore what his own senses told him. Vader's actions spoke stronger still because Sith Lords did not hold ambitions of fathering children, least of all a Jedi child whatever the circumstances surrounding its conception. And for all his bluster about turning him to the Dark Side, Obi-Wan saw it as just that – bluster. Sith Lord he may be, but he could still be read.

Regardless he was positive those same shortcomings had made him susceptible to Chancellor Palpatine's charms. He was sure of it. If he only knew the exact details. He was appallingly ignorant of events before and after Mustafar. This would have to be remedied at the first available opportunity. Vader had talked of power earlier, little realising that the true power he held over him was knowledge.

I definitely failed you, Anakin. I will always be sorry. He almost said it too, forgetting himself, but once again, Vader anticipated his intentions. "Do. Not. Speak. Do. Not. Show. Me. Up!" he threatened the hand that had patted him, still hovering over his head, this time in warning.

"A little difficult, to make a good impression, do you not think?" he questioned, eyeing Vader's waterlogged clothes and still dripping hair, fully aware he looked little better. Or assumed so as he still hadn't had the opportunity to view himself in a mirror. The trip here had been short, and the coldness of space had only hampered the natural drying process.

The sharp slap to the back of his head was a definite shock. Obi-Wan stumbled, almost certainly destined to meet the hangar floor, if not for the sharp grip on the neck of his tunic hauling him back upright, close to Vader's side, so that Obi-Wan found himself in the dubious position of being tucked in close under the man's arm.

"Let that be a lesson," Vader snapped out, eyes flashing downwards.

Obi-Wan met the gaze full on, neck tilted upwards, and eyes similarly ignited. "Sorry, Father," he snapped back, with equal feeling.

The quip was supposed to be clever, fun. Banter between buddies. It was supposed to be all these things but it wasn't, because Vader responded gravely, like a real parent. "Apology accepted, son," he said with deadly seriousness, an approximation of satisfaction and tentative wonder in his expression. The same lightness that had vanished quickly flaring up again to chase away the darkness.

Oh Sith! That was a pretty big slip.