His inquisitors were anxiously waiting for him to choose which of them would accompany him once they arrived on Tatooine. He wasn't going to choose any of them.
Like the last time he left his ship to meet Kenobi, he intended to leave alone. This was a private matter, and he would not have anything distracting him from what needed to be done. His own thoughts were enough of a burden, and the last thing he needed was the irritating concern of an Inquisitor expressing their unwanted doubt of his loyalty to the emperor. The Grand Inquisitor had been beyond fortunate to survive his ire the last time he questioned Vader when he abandoned chasing the resistance in favour of following Kenobi.
He did however, unlike last time, request a forensics droid.
He was prepared to analyze every single grain of sand on that wretched excuse of a planet until he found what he was looking for, but a droid would help speed up the process.
"Forensics droid ZED-SIX-SEVEN, trained in all aspects of data retrieval, collection and analysis reporting for service" it said once it arrived, pushing a trolley of devices it would require for the mission.
One of the troops inform him that his ship's almost ready for departure as Vader is about to board it.
"Good. We leave at once"
He hears the droid describe the presence of the death troopers as "wonderful" and that this mission will be giving it "plenty to analyze". It certainly wasn't wrong.
He spent majority of the flight alone and in deep meditation, aiming to sharpen his volatile emotions into a weapon he could effectively use in battle without loosing himself to them in the process. Unlike in his previous life, he found it was absolutely impossible not to meditate as a Sith due to the Darkside's tendency to completely consume and obliterate those who use it.
He was smarter than that. He uses the Darkside, not the other way around. He refused to become a puppet to its biddings.
Despite meditating for hours, he couldn't quite manage to fully dispel the awful queasiness plaguing his stomach when they finally reached their destination.
The first thing he did was visit the droid. It was already waiting for him with a squadron of death troopers in his shuttle, fiddling with the equipment it brought to assist in its tasks. "Lord Vader! I was just about to seek you out! If you could share your parameters of our mission, I can start preparing any-
Vader ripped it's control panel open with the force and began adjusting the settings inside.
The droid yelped in surprise. "What—what are you—adjusting my motivator? With all due respect, only a trained technician should—"
Once he finished the adjustments, he ordered the droid sternly. "If you ever reveal what you learn on this mission, you will self-destruct."
"Oh!" the droid chirped before closing it's control panel with an audible clink. "Wonderful! I do appreciate thoroughness! Tell me everything, then!"
Vader closed the shuttle and took his place in the pilots seat, readying for takeoff. It was then that he finally allowed himself to look up and see their destination with his own eyes.
There it was.
The desert planet.
Tatooine.
The birthplace of Anakin Skywalker.
He felt revolted. He felt sick. He didn't want to go anywhere near it.
But Kenobi is there a soft voice whispered to him. The reminder suddenly squashed any doubt or apprehension he had. To reach Kenobi, he was willing to cross dimensions, rip galaxies apart, annihilate entire civilizations.
This was nothing.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi" he finally answered. The droid pulled up the Sith data base in its computer system and began reciting every known fact of the sightings that have been reported to the Empire over the past 14 years. Vader allowed it despite knowing it all by heart already. Every word was fueling his anger like gas being poured on a flame.
When he landed the shuttle, he is immediately greeted by an imperial.
It impossible soured his mood even more.
"Lord Vader! It is my distinct pleasure and great honor to welcome you to Tatooine! I am Lieutenant Ardo Banch, and if I can be of any assistance at all in whatever mission you—"
Vader stalked past him wordlessly, and a death trooper immediately halted the imperial from trying to catch up with him. But the imbecile wouldn't give up.
"If there is anything you need you need, Lord Vader-"
The droid answered for him. "Your Terminal? With any local records?
"Ah! Second door on the right!"
"Perfect!" the droid answered happily.
Vader addresses his troops momentarily. "Patrol the perimeter"
They reach the terminal, and Vader watches impatiently as the droid connects to it and scans a copy of Tatooine's records for itself. He tried to keep his mind distracted and focused all at once, desperately keeping himself from any flashbacks from his childhood.
Deep down, he knew it wouldn't be completely unavoidable.
They finally leave the Galactic Empire base and travel out further, where Vader can finally see the home of Cliegg and Shmi in the distance, the last place he had ever been to since the last time he had been on this planet.
He felt sick.
He felt absolutely sick.
That is where she was buried. Where he had buried her. Her grave was just a walking distance away from him.
Shmi Skywalker.
Mom.
This time he could actually feel the bile rising up his throat. He snapped himself out of it and looked away sharply. His focus and concertation were completely shattered. That woman had been dead for almost two decades. He should not be so affected.
"Be brave . . .and don't look back"
His eyes were stinging. She would be devastated, to see what he had become. Her own grief would kill her as an act of mercy, so escape the horrific reality of what had become of her only son.
He steeled himself abruptly, all his sadness suddenly blocked away. He was not Anakin Skywalker. That boy had died on Mustafar when his master betrayed him. He was with his mother now, and the two of them meant nothing to him.
He changed his route, the droid following after him eagerly, both of them keeping away from that particular house. There was no need to investigate it either way. The force was whispering to him, telling him there was nothing of interest to him in it. It was completely empty, devoid of any force signatures, let alone of the one he wanted.
Their reestablished bond was still blocked, but Vader could feel it warming up in the back of his mind, reacting to his close proximity to it's other half. It was enough to confirm that Obi-Wan had been here for a very long time – most likely years, but it wasn't enough for Vader to use as a navigational tool. He kept prodding it, but it refused to take him to it's source.
Had he remained a Lightside user, he would have no other choice but to resort to sweeping the entire planet until sand was falling back down like rain once he was finished. It was one of the reasons he disdained it. The Lightside can only be used when it wanted to be used, which was always for selfless purposes. Vader wasn't selfless. Siths were some of the most selfish beings to walk the universe, which was why they had laid claim to the Darkside. It comes easier, aggravates further, bends to the will of those who use it. The lightside turns its users into a channel for its own desires. It was completely unreliable.
Vader pictured Kenobi in his mind, his perfectly groomed hair, his flawless, immaculate skin, those beautiful blue eyes. He had always found something so pretty about those eyes, the colour of aqua-crystal, framed with long lashes, always poised with deep intelligence and consideration. Vader's next breath was assisted by his own lung movement, feeling the physical burn as his anger grew within him. Kenobi hadn't been called The Negotiator for nothing. One look into those beautiful, caring eyes would immediately melt an individual's initial defenses, making them vulnerable to any suggestions and proposals Kenobi would impose on them.
But Vader knows better than anyone in the galaxy, that it was all a lie.
The moment Obi-Wan knew the façade wasn't working, and he wouldn't get wanted he wanted from it, the mask dropped and his cold, heartless true self is revealed as he ripped his opponent to shreds.
Unmerciful Jedi scum.
He could feel the bond shuddering as his anger grew. He was upsetting it by repelling it's other half with his pure, unbound, endless hatred. He tugged on it again, more forcefully this time, his mind focused on the burn of the flames and the excruciating pain of having all three limbs severed off at once. He thought of the agony he felt when Kenobi stared at him with his cold, unpitying gaze as his body was destroyed; the ultimate betrayal in the history of betrayals.
As the bond grew more distressed, he allowed his consciousness to viciously coil around it like a snake, forcing it to bend to his will in it's weakened state. He thought about how easy it would be to snap completely, severing his connection with Obi-Wan all together. It would be painful. It was be agonizing to both of them, just like it was the first time it happened. But even the thought of causing Obi-Wan that pain wasn't enough for him to even think about seriously going through with it.
They were finally connected again after years of separation, and Vader knew he would never willing allow Obi-Wan to run from him again. He had informed Obi-Wan of his two options on Mustafar, either join him or die. There was no alternative. Obi-Wan belonged to him, whether that meant he was Vader's accomplice or victim made no difference. He was Vader's, would always be Vader's.
He did not have the right to run off and live his own life without Vader for the rest of eternity. No kriffing way.
That's why you're angry, isn't it? a soft voice whispered to him. Because the second he realized you were a threat, he annihilated you without a second thought. He didn't even try to reason with you, to use his sentiment for you to bring you back to him – because it was never there to begin with. He never loved you. He never cared for you. He's been living out here completely carefree, his life no different than before you arrived in it. He would probably think you are pathetic, to see the depth of your obsession for him, thinking about him every second of the day, because he doesn't give a damn about you in the slightest.
The bond was practically vibrating in his mind, desperately trying to pull away from his volatile thoughts as they wrapped around it. This hadn't worked all the other times he tried it because of the distance between them, but now that he was so close he could practically smell the remnants of Obi-Wan's force signature on this planet, the bond couldn't resist the sheer strength of his force influence.
Was Obi-Wan feeling this too? His shields were still completely intact, but surely he could feel how their bond was being abused. Was it hurting him? He wanted to know so badly. The pain of gnawing at the connection was definitely hurting Vader, feeling as though he was damaging his own soul, but he kept going. He would set himself on fire again if it meant Obi-Wan could feel it too. He would destroy himself without hesitation to destroy Obi-Wan in turn.
He was filled with the Darkside to the point he almost couldn't feel himself. He kept drawing it in, using his hatred and anger to lure it to him, to feel it in every crevice in his mind and body. The power was absolutely intoxicating, and he could feel his eyes burning gold beneath the helmet.
He squeezed the bond impossibly tightly, feeling it squirm in his impenetrable grip. He could feel its distress and sadness, that one of its children was so upset. It was sending him waves of comfort, trying to calm him. Trying to soothe him.
It was reacting to him.
Good.
Take me to him he snarled at it.
After a few more minutes of his ruthless assault, the bond finally relented, loosening up in his grip to reveal its string. It was a weak connection, so very weak, but Vader latched on to it immediately, unwilling to let it go now that he had it.
He followed it for hours, completely unrelenting to stop even as he could feel his fatigue settling in. had had overexerted himself in so many ways – both in the force and in his physical body. He probably should have taken his shuttle to travel around the planet, but he found he couldn't walk away from where the string led even if he tried. He had to keep going. Nothing was going to stop him. He was so close. Obi-Wan was practically in his grasp already.
"There is only one native in this neighbourhood, Lord Vader. My files report that these caverns are crawling with Tusken Raiders" the droid suddenly informed him. Vader had completely forgotten of its presence even though it had been blindly following him around for half the day.
"What information do these reports have on this native" Vader demanded as they got nearer to the house. It was made of sandstone, a rectangular shape with half a dome on top. The sight of it made the butterflies in Vader's stomach go ballistic. He was so close. He was going to finally do it.
"Hmm. Not much is known about the native that resides here, but locals know him as the 'crazy old hermit' called-"
"Obi-Wan." had it not been for his respirator, Vader would have forgotten to breathe. Now that they were a mere few feet away from the house, Vader had released the string without thinking, because something far more urgent had caught his attention. He strode towards the hut in violent strokes.
There was a scent in the air – a scent so deliciously familiar it made his scarred skin feel like a freshly burned wound again. He kicked the wooden door down effortlessly, his arm already extended and prepared to choke the living daylight out of-
Nobody.
There was nobody there.
There was nobody there.
The house was completely empty.
He was the only sentient being within miles of this place.
He blinked, as everything in his mind suddenly went quiet, more quiet than it had been in decades. It only lasted for a few moments before he completely exploded. His vision went red with rage as he began tearing the place apart, using the force to smash furniture into the sandstone walls. It wasn't enough. He needed to kill someone. He needed to rip something living apart to quench his bloodlust. The darkness he had been making promises to all day was unsatisfied, demanding the pound of flesh Vader had agreed to give to it once the time came.
"With all due respect my Lord, you are damaging the evidence, which will make it more difficult for me to assess"
The only thing stopping him from crushing the droid in his fury was his need for its assistance. He compressed his anger as best as he could, and moved further inside the house, allowing the irritating thing to enter and begin its scans. The bond hadn't lied to him, it didn't even have the capability to do so. Kenobi had been here – for a long, long time. His essence was still strong in the force, but now that Vader couldn't get any closer, he could finally see its aged lines and slightly faded aura. Yes, Kenobi had been here, but not for ages. It had been completely empty for weeks, perhaps even months.
He stood there, silently seething before he noticed that smell again. That delicious, metallic fragrance he hadn't smelt a hint of in four years. He followed its source, passing the droid idly, before finding a small dresser in the bedroom. The mirror had been completely shattered, but not of Vader's doing. He stared at the shards of glass decorating the floor and felt a flutter in his chest. Lifting them gently with the force, high enough to hover at his eyesight level, he inspected the red substance staining many of them carefully.
He took another long inhale, the mask unable to filter the smell.
He knew exactly what it was, but he still called the droid over to examine it with its forensic gear.
"The DNA scanning of this blood matches with the archived sample of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. It is approximately almost two months old" It informed him.
Vader took one of the bloodiest shards in his hand, and closed his eyes. He focused on his connection to the force and imagined nothing but the dresser, the shattered glass, and the blood around him. He reached out to weeks in the past, finding out what he could about what had transpired here.
Horror.
All he could feel was horror as he stared in the mirror, refusing to accept what he was seeing. The horrendous sight was slightly distorted from the unshed tears flooding his eyes, but it wasn't enough.
He couldn't bear it. He couldn't look at it any longer.
The last thing he saw was his own face crumpled in agony as he used his fist to smash the mirror to pieces, his hand almost numb to the shards sticking inside him from the force of impact. Only then did he let his tears fall, running down his face in streams like the blood gushing down his wrist from his injured hand.
The memory was gone, and Vader dropped the glass unceremoniously, his chest more painful than usual. He knew it. Something had happened, and whatever it was, it had scared Obi-Wan. He had felt it. For a second, he had felt everything Obi-Wan had been feeling and thinking all those week ago.
He was going insane.
What the Kriff had Obi-Wan done?! Where had he gone?
He searched the house for hours.
There was nothing of interest; no decorations, nothing to give the place a touch of hominess. It felt like a base, filled with nothing other than the bare minimum. A few cloaks in the closet, a small bed in the bedroom, an empty kitchen, and basic furniture – most of which Vader had damaged in his fit of rage earlier.
This is where the great Obi-Wan Kenobi had been hiding from him for the past decade and a half? Living in this pathetic excuse of a hut like a hermit?
Each time he picked something up or slid a hand over the sandstone walls, he couldn't not think about the fact that Obi-Wan hands had been there at some point too. Because Obi-Wan had been living here. This was his house. He still couldn't manage to wrap his head around the fact properly.
He almost stumbled on a piece of loose stone that had been cut out of the ground. The sight of it made Vader's mind go black for a second, because he'd seen this before. It was something Obi-Wan liked to do on missions off coruscant, make secret compartments in the ground to safeguard their valuable belongings in case something went wrong. It was a habit that Vader had developed himself.
His heart hammering wildly, he knelt down slowly and removed the large rock out of his way, revealing an old wooden chest. Obi-Wan had always loved chests. He loved tidiness, and so he would purchase a stupidly large amount of chests to fill their shared quarters in order to keep everything organized. Skywalker used to find it endearing.
This chest looked old and handmade. The wood had been damaged by termites, giving it a faded, damaged appearance. He hesitated for a moment, before opening it up to reveal its contents.
He almost wished he didn't.
The first thing he saw was a photograph.
It was tethered and frayed at the edges, but not so damaged that the actual picture couldn't be seen. His mind was spinning, desperately trying to make sense of what he was looking at.
It was Obi-Wan and Skywalker in a speeder, Obi-Wan's face completely covered with a sheet of paper as he hid from the camera, oblivious to the blinding smile his apprentice was giving him. This photograph must have been in one of those holo-newspapers, taken by the pesky paparazzi that refused to leave the Jedi alone when they were off Coruscant.
It must have been so old, at least decades old if Skywalker's padawan braid was any indication.
He had no idea how Obi-Wan had gotten this photo. The Galactic Empire had ordered all records and propaganda of the traitorous Jedi to be destroyed. This photograph should have been burned with all the others years ago.
His head was burning with questions. How did Obi-Wan get this? Why did he have this? When did he acquire it? What did he do with it? Why didn't he take it with him to wherever he had gone?
He was still staring at it desperately when the droid interrupted.
"Lord Vader, some imperial officers have come here to warn you that-"
He crushed it without a second thought, using the force to flatten it like an insect. There was something else in the chest, a scroll of paper kept in place with a strand of cloth tied together like a ribbon. He placed the photograph inside the chest with the intent to take it with him. He knew this house had nothing else to offer him. His search was finished.
But he came here to punish, and that desire had been left unsatisfied.
He could hear the buzz of the Imperial officers speaking to each other outside, and he knew exactly where to let his pent up anger go.