Until We Die
Chapter 6
Obi-wan wasn't sure how Vader would go; seeing his old droids again, or if he would even remember them. In truth, he supposed it depended on how far gone he was. If Anakin was dead—as Vader had so vehemently insisted— then theoretically, he shouldn't care at all. Of course, Obi-wan knew bringing the droids to him was risky—as everything was these days—but he was out of options. Vader needed his suit fixed. And now, with the medical droid having been fried in the ray‐shield, Artoo and Threepio were his next best hope.
Deactivating the shield, he waited for the astromech and protocol droid to pass through, then followed them inside the cell.
Vader stood with his back to them, facing the far wall, and leaning on one of the medical monitors for support. His breathing had gotten worse, much raspier and more laboured than before. Obi-wan was unsure if he had noticed him and the droids walk in, but he hadn't moved since the ray-shield had opened. Was it possible he was meditating? Or was he perhaps so weakened that it was taking all his focus just to stay upright?
Artoo chirruped a question from his side and Obi-wan looked down. He didn't understand him. He never had understood him, not like Anakin. Though he had tried from time to time, occasionally managed to garner an idea of what the astromech was saying based on the speed and volume of his chirps and whistles. And if he was right, these chirps had been inquisitive.
He went to ask Threepio to translate... when a violent chill froze him to the spot. A chaotic maelstrom of conflicting emotion suddenly spiralled through the Force. Confusion, anger, despair, shock, fury, surprise... and longing.
Cautious now, Obi-wan gestured for the two droids to wait and focused his attention on Vader, half expecting for him to lash out. He watched the Sith push from the monitor and turn around. And when he spotted the two droids beside Obi-wan, he stiffened.
"You honestly think... hiding behind them... is going to protect you?" snarled Vader, his hazy eyes shifting from the two droids to Obi-wan.
Obi-wan held the Sith's angered stare. "No."
"Then why bring them here?" Vader demanded.
"They have agreed to help you, Anakin," Obi-wan explained. He didn't want to aggravate the situation. Vader needed to remain calm, or there was no way he was going to allow anyone near him. He blew out a measured breath, did his best to centre himself, then focused on keeping his tone gentle. "They both have."
"Help me?" spat Vader. "Help me with what?"
Surprised, and slightly more confident now, Obi-wan folded his arms, raised one sceptical brow at the Sith. Mistake number one, Anakin: You responded. Now I know you're still in there.
Artoo twittered another question, and while Obi-wan hadn't understood him, it appeared Vader had. And in a fit of almost childlike fury, he snapped his scarred head toward the astromech.
"Anakin Skywalker... is DEAD!" Vader protested.
But like himself, Artoo was apparently far from convinced. If anything, he almost seemed... well, angry. Rocking side-to-side, the astromech did his best raspberry impression, then launched into the longest, most accusatory string of tweets, chirps and whistles Obi-wan could ever remember hearing from him. And now more than ever, he wished he understood droid-speak. Not because he desired the ability to have a conversation with droids... but because whatever Artoo said, hit Vader like a tonne of duracrete. Vader sagged forward, closed his mouth, then stared at his old droid in wounded silence.
"Artoo! What are you saying?" cried Threepio from beside Obi-wan. "Don't make him angry, you stupid lump! You have no idea who he is—He might dismantle us!"
Artoo then turned his ire onto Threepio. And with a sudden piercing wail, unleashed yet another furious barrage of tweets, chirps and beeps.
"Wait!" rasped Vader, jabbing his pointed finger toward the panicked protocol droid. " Who wiped his memory?"
Yes, Anakin. You're definitely dead. That's why you care so much about Threepio.
Ok, so all sarcasm aside, he really did need to stop this line of questioning before Artoo gave away their location. He had no idea how intimate Vader and Sidious's Force-bond was, and if Vader discovered he was on Alderaan, there was every chance his master wouldn't be too far behind.
"Artoo," Obi-wan warned the droid sternly. "Now is not the time."
Vader glowered at him.
Great, Obi-wan cursed inwardly. And now he was on to him. He had to think up some plausible excuse quickly, before Vader decided to press the issue...
When his comm-link went off. Typical. Obi-wan mentally shook his head. It had to be Bail. No-one else other than Yoda knew how to contact him. But he fished the comm from his belt and checked it anyway. And as expected, it was Bail. What could he possibly want now? Had he forgotten what he was doing over here, and how important it was? Not that it mattered; the urgency of the call was irrelevant. There was absolutely no way he could answer it in front of Vader.
Silencing the ringer, Obi-wan looked apologetically to the Sith. "Look... I have to go." Then, taking the rucksack from C-3PO, he used the Force to float it across the cell, then set it down alongside Vader's boot.
Vader regarded the bag, frowned, and looked questioningly back at Obi-wan. "What is that?"
"The spare helmet and mask you had hidden inside your shuttle," Obi-wan explained. "You couldn't breathe, so I took the liberty of digging around inside your ship while you were sleeping."
He waited a moment, on the off-chance Vader might say something. Then, hearing nothing, he shrugged his shoulders and turned to leave. "Do yourself a favour while I'm gone; show Artoo and Threepio how to repair your suit. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Obi-wan?"
He paused by the ray-shield and glanced back.
"Why... are you doing this?" asked Vader, holding the rucksack. "Why not kill me... and get it over with?"
Memories of the times he and Anakin had had the chance to kill each other but hadn't, came to mind. How Vader stood back and watched, as Tala and the loader droid whisked him from the fire and carried him to safety. How, during their duel on the moon, Vader had stood atop the gaping chasm and buried him with rocks, instead of jumping down to finish him off. Funnily enough, the irony of how Vader had chosen to create his own "high ground" during that confrontation, had not escaped him.
There was only one logical explanation... Anakin couldn't kill him, any more than he could kill Anakin. Regardless of how much they had damaged each other, they were both still intrinsically connected; too attached and bonded together in the Force to actually follow through with it.
It was devastating.
With a heaving sigh, Obi-wan wearily shook his head. For the same reason you let them rescue me on Mapuzo, Anakin, he thought but dared not speak. For the same reason you buried me with rocks and walked away, knowing full well I would survive... I can't.
And at that moment, a hard lump of emotion stuck in his throat. Obi-wan swallowed, turned his back to the Sith. Just the thought of killing Anakin was too much to bear—No matter who, or what he called himself these days. He'd told Master Yoda years ago; he wouldn't do it. And now, ten years later, the truth of that statement still rang true.
Fighting to compose himself, he deactivated the ray-shield and prepared to leave. "Just... get yourself fixed up," he said, waiting for the blue energy field to dissipate. "We can talk more when I return."
Then, without looking back, he left for the main corridor, and started for the hangar.
• • •
He had made it halfway to his ship by the time Bail finally answered his call, and the urgency in the man's voice had been more than a little unnerving. Something had shaken the Senator; enough for him to risk calling Obi-wan away from who he was guarding, despite knowing how dangerous it was. And by the time Obi-wan reached his ship, Bail already had an air-car waiting to ferry him back to the palace.
Thankfully, the journey had been short. And the air-car had taken him deep into the basement via an old supply entrance, hidden away from the prying eyes of the city's main populace. Now he was inside Bail's living room, watching Leia play on the rug in front of the holo-net, while he held onto Lola in his robe pocket.
Leia hadn't noticed him yet; she was engrossed in whatever it was she was watching. He switched on the droid, lifted it from his pocket and set it free. And a half second later, an excited flurry of chirps and whistles filled the room.
Leia's bright hazel eyes darted toward the sound. "Lola!" she squealed, then jumped from the rug, bounded across the living room and ran toward the little droid.
Obi-wan couldn't help but smile. "Who am I to keep a young lady from her droid?" he asked, watching her cradle and talk to Lola. She asked if it was alright, told it that she missed it, as if it were some real, living being. And for a moment, he was reminded of how Anakin used to be with Artoo, left wondering if Luke too shared the same familial Skywalker affinity for machines.
"Here, take this," said Bail, offering him a mug of tea. "No offence, but you look like you could use it."
"Thank you," Obi-wan said, graciously accepting the cup. "I do admit, it has been a rather long and trying few days." He blew the steam from the tea and had a sip, all the while watching Leia settle back down in front of the holo-net with her droid.
"So...," Bail asked. "How are things going over there?"
For some reason, it felt wrong to discuss Vader in front of Leia. Not that she or Bail knew who he was—but it still didn't feel right. Perhaps the Force was warning him to be cautious. He hesitated, looked to the Senator. "Well... I owe you a medical droid," he said finally.
"He is awake then I take it?" Bail commented, almost sounding disappointed.
Obi-wan held his gaze, then shot a pointed glance toward Leia on the rug. He hoped Bail would catch his meaning, rather than him having to actually spell it out.
Seeing this, the Senator nodded, then called to his daughter. "Leia? Why don't you take Lola and go play for a while? It's a beautiful day outside."
Leia sprang to her feet. "Can I go into the woods, father? Please?" she asked, beaming with excitement. "I promise I won't go far."
Bail seemed to consider it a moment. "Yes. Of course you can," he told her. "Just... don't go telling your mother."
"Yay! Thank you!" And in a flash, she grabbed the droid from mid-air and sprinted from the sitting room.
Obi-wan watched her leave, instantly feeling her absence. The Force was strong with her. He hadn't noticed at first, but now, after being around her only a few short days, he realised just how strong it was. Leia knew things; sensed emotions and motivations in people—even his own. What's more, she'd even been curious enough about it to ask questions.
"Have you eaten?"
Disturbed from his reverie, Obi-wan turned to see Bail waiting expectantly. "I'm sorry?"
The Senator gave him a wan smile and chuckled. "I asked if you had eaten," he said. "Breha is downstairs with the cooks preparing for tonight's banquet. I'm sure we could convince her to rustle up a hot breakfast."
As delightful as that sounded, he wasn't hungry. "Oh no, that... that won't be necessary," Obi-wan said, autonomously checking their surroundings. "I—I really should be getting back. I'm not sure I should've left him this long—"
"He giving you trouble?" Bail cut in.
"No... that's the problem."
"A problem?" Bail repeated, confused. "I don't follow, Obi-wan. What is going on?"
Obi-wan looked down, stroked his beard. "I don't know, Bail. It's just... something doesn't feel right."
Bail took this with a nod. "Alright. Well, this is Lord Vader we're talking about, so I can't say I'm surprised. Nothing feels right about him. But whatever is going on between you and him in that bunker, you certainly seem to have attracted their attention."
A violent thump shook his chest, the dread of holding Anakin captive making itself known. "Who's attention?"
" Their attention, Obi-wan," Bail stated, his voice suddenly going dark. "Or should I say— His attention." He turned and headed for the holo-net, gesturing for Obi-wan to follow. "Here, there's something you need to see."
"Bail, I don't have time for this," Obi-wan protested, reluctantly following him to the rug anyway. "Surely you know how dangerous this is—"
"Don't you think I know that, Obi-wan?" Bail hotly interrupted, holding the remote. "You think, I didn't know the risks when I said you could bring him here?"
"I...," Obi-wan started, then sheepishly looked down. Bail didn't know the truth; he didn't know just how big a risk he was taking—the risk they were both taking. "I'm sorry, Bail. I guess, I'm just not thinking clearly. With everything that's happened... I'm afraid I—"
Words suddenly escaped him, as a familiar tune invaded the sitting room. He glanced up, saw Bail had turned the holo-net back on. Then, open-mouthed, Obi-wan stared at the troubling sight of his own mugshot.
"—a reward of ten million credits is being offered for any information leading to the fugitive Jedi's capture," the white uniformed officer on the holo-net was saying. "Obi-wan Kenobi is armed and extremely dangerous. Emperor Palpatine is warning all citizens not to approach the Jedi, and to instead report all sightings immediately to the ISB."
"Ten million credits, Obi-wan," Bail muttered incredulously, switching off the recording. "That's enough to persuade even the most dedicated of Jedi sympathisers into handing you over. I think it's now safe to say, Palpatine knows what has happened."
Obi-wan continued to stare at the space previously occupied by his mugshot. Yes, Bail was right, ten million credits was a lot; enough to sway almost anyone into surrendering him to the Empire. The rash move to hunt him down stank of desperation, as if Palpatine was suddenly concerned for Vader's disappearance. "No mention of Vader though," he said finally, still cradling his—now cold—mug of tea. "I find that rather odd."
"Not really," said Bail. "Palpatine keeps his loyal emissary hidden for the most part. Most common folk would never know of his existence if not for the occasional glimpse of him on the holo-net."
The Senator sighed, put his hand on Obi-wan's shoulder. "Look, Obi-wan," Bail said softly. "This is the first time the Empire has publicly declared any Jedi as being wanted since the beginning. And I don't think I need to explain the implications of that to you. But whatever it is you are planning to do with Vader, please... do it quietly, and be careful. If this gets out—or worse—If he gets out..."
"Yes, Bail... I know," Obi-wan put in stiffly, not wanting to think on it further. "Just do what you can to keep the spotlight off Alderaan for now. I promise, I will decide what to do with Vader, after I've had the proper chance to speak with him."
Bail blew out a resigned breath, then pulled his hand back and shook his head. "I am not going to stand here, and pretend I understand why you are doing this, old friend," he said. "But I gave you, my word Obi-wan. And if you say time is what you need; then I will do all I can to provide it for you."