Until We Die
Chapter 5
Obi-wan stood beside Vader on the table as the 2-1b medical droids set to work on him. They had already administered pain relief to the Sith, and had removed his broken helmet to attach the oxygen mask to his face. But he was still in a deep sleep, as if he hadn't slept a wink in years.
"How is he?" Obi-wan asked the droid busy repairing some of the damage to Vader's suit.
The droid looked up. "He is stable and resting, sir. His vitals are strong, and there doesn't appear to be anything that would prevent him from making a full recovery. However, judging by the damage to the skin on his neck and face, he would do well to be submerged in bacta for a few days."
"Those burns are more than ten years old," Obi-wan said incredulously. "Do you have any idea as to why they wouldn't have healed?"
"I cannot say, sir," the droid answered.
"And the scar on the top of his head, what do you suppose might have caused that?"
The droid stopped what it was doing and looked to Vader's head. "Trephination, sir. Although it looks to have been handled improperly."
"Trephination?"
"Yes, sir," the droid said, returning to its work. "It is an old emergency procedure commonly used to gain access to the brain. In this instance, the patient appears to have had something implanted in his head. Though I am unable to determine what that is without conducting a full intracranial scan."
Obi-wan stared at Vader's closed eyes. Despite everything, he actually seemed calm and at peace, like whatever he was dreaming of was soothing. It was the most relaxed Obi-wan could ever remember seeing him.
Oh Anakin, what has he done to you?
• • •
"Dad!"
"Dad!"
"Wake up!"
"Dad!"
Vader rolled over and put his arm over his face. He didn't want to wake up. Not yet. He was perfectly warm and comfortable right where he was.
"Come on you two, let your father sleep. He's exhausted."
Wait... was that? He opened his eyes. And standing right before him in the doorway, dressed in a shimmering blue nightgown, was his beautiful wife. Padmé. She looked just like he remembered; big sparkling hazel eyes, long dark curly hair cascading down her shoulders, and a smile that lit up the room.
"But mum, he promised."
There was a child next to her. A boy. Not more than ten years old. With light sand coloured hair, and bright blue eyes. He had a padawan braid, and the same short hair style he'd had as a child. Padmé smiled at the boy and gently tousled his hair.
"I know he did," she said to the boy. "But your father has had a long night and needs his rest. I'm sure he'll take you after he wakes up."
Vader opened his mouth to call out to her when a heavy weight dropped and shifted on the bed behind him. Then, two small clammy hands gently took hold of his arm and lifted it away from his face. And when he looked up, a big pair of brown eyes were staring expectantly at him.
"I knew you were pretending," the little girl said with a cheeky giggle, shifting her weight to lay across his side. Her elbow was digging into his ribs, but he didn't mind, not for the moment. "Good morning, daddy."
Vader smiled at the girl. "You caught me," he whispered. She looked just like Padmé. The same dark hair, only shorter, and the same velvet ivory skin with cheeks a soft blushing pink. "Good morning, sweetheart."
"Yay! You're awake!" the boy cried, and ran from Padmé toward the bed.
Then, suddenly they were both on top of him. Pulling at the blankets, trying to pull him up, and Padmé giggled from the doorway. Wrestling with the two younglings, he managed to free his arms and shuffled back to sit upright against the bed head. "Alright. I'm up. I'm up," he chuckled, holding his hands out in mock surrender.
The two children were practically bouncing with excitement, and all he could do was marvel at them.
"When are we going, Dad?" the young boy asked.
Vader looked questioningly to Padmé, hoping for some clue as to where they were supposed to be going. But she gave away nothing, just leaned on the doorway and shook her head.
"I'm sorry, Ani. I tried to keep them quiet," she apologised. "But you know how they get when they're excited."
No, he didn't know, but he could imagine. "It's alright," he said, then with a yawn, went back to his children on the bed.
"Now come along, both of you," Padmé called to the children. "Leave your father get up in peace. It's time for breakfast."
"Aww... mum," the boy complained. "Just one more minute?"
Padmé folded her arms. "I made pancakes."
"Yay! Pancakes," the little girl sang, as if it were the best news ever, and leapt from the bed to follow her mother.
Then the boy ran after them.
When his family was gone, Vader dropped his legs over the side of the bed and took a moment to compose himself. The burn scars were gone, and his legs were his own, not the clunky ill-fitted cybernetic prosthetics he'd spent years growing accustomed to. And his hair?
He raised his hand and gingerly pushed the lengthy waves away from his eyes back behind his ear. He actually had hair again.
Looking around, he recognised where he was in an instant. This was Padmé's apartment on Coruscant. He grabbed his robe from the end of the bed and shrugged into it on his way to the window.
It was still early, the morning sun gleaming off the city's multitude of towering skyscrapers and apartment buildings. Speeders and transports rushed across the sky on invisible roads, creating a grid pattern in the air that almost divided the city into blocks. In all these long years, the city itself hadn't changed, only in name. In the Empire, Coruscant was now simply known as Imperial Centre.
Sighing, Vader turned away from the window and left the bedroom to join his family.
Padmé was in the kitchen when he walked in, and their two children were sitting at the table happily eating their pancakes. It was such a heart-warming and welcoming sight, and for the first time in as long as he could remember; he felt home.
"I made you some caf," Padmé called from behind the bench, holding a cup out toward him.
"Thank you, Angel," Vader said. He crossed the room, passed the two younglings eating at the table and joined his wife in the kitchen. Leaning forward, he kissed Padmé on the forehead, then took the offered caf from her hand and had a sip. It tasted amazing, and he closed his eyes, feeling the heat of the warm and comforting drink glide soothingly down his dry and parched throat. Vader sighed. "Force...I needed that," he said.
"Dad..." the boy called, looking to Vader from the table. "What time are we leaving?"
"Leaving?" Vader asked. Then, he turned and looked to Padmé for help.
His wife smiled at him. "Someone... promised to take our children to see Obi-wan at the Temple this morning."
Vader almost choked on the air. "I did what, now?"
Padmé's smile fast turned into the beginnings of a frown. "Anakin, please don't tell me you've forgotten," she said sadly. "You promised to look after the twins while I went to work today. You know how important this anti-slavery bill is, and as the Vizier, I need to be there to help the Chancellor when the vote is passed."
"The Chancellor?" Vader echoed, feeling himself go weak at the thought.
"Yes, Anakin. Supreme Chancellor Bail Organa." His wife looked curiously at him, and gently stroked his arms. "Are you feeling alright, my love?" she asked, sounding genuinely concerned. Then she lifted her hand to feel his forehead. "You look pale."
He blew out a relieved breath, and looked down. "I'm... I'm fine. Just tired, that's all."
She went to say something further when a heavy knock came from the door.
"I'll get it," Vader said, quickly pulling away. He felt his wife's stare follow him from the kitchen. And when he opened the door, a small hooded figure cloaked in black was waiting on the other side. The room went dark, and in a blinding flash, a bolt of blue lightning shot from the figure's outstretched hands and struck him in the chest.
Blasted across the room, Vader slammed into the wall and hit the floor. He curled into a ball, tried to breathe through the convulsions. Then, the commanding voice of his Master echoed inside his head.
"Lord Vader."
No...
"Lord Vader. Can you hear me?"
Then, suddenly, he was on his back and the room was spinning. His heart was beating so hard and fast, that he knew the fear was about to overwhelm him. He tried to move, to lift his head, raise his arms, move his legs... but nothing responded. He cried out. "Padmé, help me!"
His Master hissed. "Padme is dead, my friend—You killed her. Now, tell me where you are, and I will come and get you."
Vader's eyes flew open; his heart still uncontrollably racing. He had no idea where he was. And the bright light shining in his face made it difficult to see. He was on his back, strapped down and bound to a table, and there was a distinct blue glow coming from the far right side of the room.
The rattle and whine of a droid's servomotors and gyros whirred from somewhere behind his head, and Vader looked to the blue-glowing wall as the droid lumbered around him. The 2-1B medical droid stopped just before the table, and with its two claw-like hands, reached for his chest.
Feeling groggy and disoriented, his vision blurry and obstructed by the oxygen mask attached to his face, Vader struggled against the bonds securing him, needing to see what the droid was doing. And when he noticed the control panel on his chest was wide open, he saw red.
"Get away from me!" Vader snarled, grinding his teeth and glaring at the droid.
"Please, do not resist, sir," the droid said in its tinny, robotic voice. "I have been ordered to facilitate your care." It continued to fiddle with the inner-workings of his control panel, and half a second later, sparks geysered from within the black box on his chest.
Electric shocks coursed throughout his entire body, and Vader screamed in agony.
Vader's pain blasted through the Force like a shockwave, crushing everything in its path. The immense burst of power blew out the lights, launched the medical droid across the room, shattered the operating table, and sent the dark lord crashing to the floor.
Obi-wan awoke with a start. The Force was in turmoil, and his heart was racing. He vaguely remembered taking a seat outside Vader's cell, but didn't remember falling asleep. The last thing he remembered was C-3PO and R2-D2 bringing supper, while he'd waited for the medical droid to finish repairing the Sith's suit. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked to the cell.
The ray-shield was sparking and hissing, and the chamber behind was dark. Right away, he knew something was wrong. Even before, with the shield casting a blueish tint to the chamber, the bright lights had still made it so he could see inside clearly. Now, all he could see was the shield. Disturbed by the sight, Obi-wan pushed out of his seat and went to take a closer look.
The medical droid was stuck in the ray-shield, its metallic body suspended almost one metre off the floor and currently in the process of being fried. The droid was irreparable. The side of its humanoid head was already half-melted, and its two cybernetic arms were extended and contorted in unusual angles. Shielding his eyes, Obi-wan leaned in closer, tried to see past the smouldering droid into the chamber, looking for Vader.
The damaged lights flickered, and Obi-wan just managed to make out Vader's dark and imposing mass at the rear of the cell. He staggered unsteadily, then tripped over a large piece of broken equipment and crashed to the floor. Anger exploded from him through the Force, and with a rasping roar, the helmetless Sith pushed to his feet and heaved the offending piece of equipment across the cell.
Obi-wan gasped and jumped back when the hunk of metal collided with the shield. Unlike the droid, the mangled piece of table only hung there for a moment before dropping to the floor. And when it fell, Vader was standing right behind it, panting heavily and glaring at Obi-wan through the ray-shield.
"So, you're finally awake," Obi-wan said, keeping his distance from the shield and folding his arms. He really didn't know what to say, and he'd been thinking about it from the moment he'd left the Sith alone in the cell with the droid. Just seeing him like this was difficult, because now it was Anakin's scarred face staring back at him, not the hideous black helmet and mask of Darth Vader.
Vader curled his lip and snarled. "Where am I?"
Obi-wan sighed. "I have brought you somewhere where the Empire won't find you."
"Why?" Vader demanded. "So you can revel in my defeat?"
"No..." Obi-wan said sadly, then looked down and shook his head. "So we can talk."
Vader hesitated a few moments, as if considering his true intentions, then growled and jabbed his gloved finger at him. "You had your chance to talk. You... chose otherwise."
The Sith was right in that respect, he had had his chance to talk. Obi-wan had sensed Vader's openness to conversation the moment he'd approached him from his shuttle, when he'd asked Obi-wan if he was there to destroy him, rather than attacking. But Obi-wan hadn't led Vader to the moon for a conversation...
He had led him there to end it. Once and for all.
And so, he'd ignited his lightsaber, assumed his stance, and repeated the exact same statement he'd said ten years ago on Mustafar: "I will do what I must."
It wasn't until long into their duel—when Obi-wan had sensed Vader's rising internal conflict, when he had recognised Anakin's lingering presence inside the suit—that he'd felt prepared to talk. And when he'd broken his mask, and actually seen Anakin's eye inside it... well, that was when reality had truly hit him.
Along with the guilt.
Obi-wan met Vader's angered glare beyond the ray-shield. "I've changed my mind."
Vader silently held his gaze, and the two of them stood there staring at each other. A flicker of something passed between them through the Force, a whisper of attachment, of fear, of mutual pain and anger. Obi-wan felt it resonate, felt it vibrate along their connection and opened his mouth to speak.
But at that moment, Obi-wan noted Vader's eyes had gone glassy and he'd started to sway. The Sith staggered unsteadily in place. Then, regaining his balance, turned his cloaked back to the shield and lumbered away.
He didn't make it very far. When Vader reached the middle of the cell, where the operating table had previously been located, his legs gave out. And he collapsed to his hands and knees.
Obi-wan went for the shield door, but stopped at the last second. He gazed around, fighting the urge to go in there and help him, knowing the Sith would likely attack him if he tried. A pained groan came from inside the cell, and he looked back. Vader was coughing and rasping, struggling to get up.
"Oh my!" a familiar voice said from his back, and Obi-wan spun around. C-3PO and R2-D2 were right behind him, their attention fixed on Vader in the cell. He rolled his eyes. How two droids had managed to sneak up on him like that, he had no idea. But for the moment, he was thankful for it.
"Threepio..." Obi-wan said, looking to the golden protocol droid. "My ship in the hangar. There's a bag inside the cockpit. I need you to go to my ship, grab the bag and bring it back to me."
"Your bag, sir?" C-3PO asked.
"Yes, Threepio. My bag. It has something important in it," Obi-wan explained.