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I really hope I haven't nerfed Vader. I'm not meaning to. I mean. He is a badass. He slaughtered a whole garrison himself and killed the Inquisitors without any effort.
While Leia sleeps, Anakin ruminates. She is the only thing keeping him here. She is the only thing keeping him alive.
He can leave the cell at any time. But not with Leia unharmed. No. Darth Sidious will never allow it; the Emperor has identified Vader's weakness, and he will not rest until it, or he, has died.
When Leia twitches in her sleep, he grunts softly as the weight of her body shifts the explosive beneath his ribs. The metal cylinder digging into his viscera is a tangible reminder of a foolish mistake.
Anakin curses himself. Perhaps, if he had allowed Organa to come with him, they would not be trapped here…
Damned arrogant fool.
In disgust, he runs a hand uselessly over the armor covering the bacta-sealed scar, tracing its shape and the vague pain that accompanies it. It is because of this that he cannot risk the Emperor's lightning, and so he must sheath his claws and allow himself to be brutalized.
He is hardly helpless. He can leave the cell. Confront his so-called "Master." Challenge him. Fight him. Wound him, even. But Vader has never beaten the Sith's lightning. And if those inescapable tongues of crackling fire touch the detonator buried in his breast…!
….
…Well…he might kill the Emperor.
But he will be dead, and Leia will be stranded, alone and defenseless on a Dark-poisoned planet, at the mercy of a martyred emperor's assassins and acolytes.
He feels the Darkness's claws reach for him, sharp, sinking, violent.
The planet of Byss is sick with the Darkness brought by Sidious's shadow. There is so little Light on the paradise planet that even the sentients on the planet are poisoned. Wrong. Twisted. From the Red Guard lining the empty halls to the Imperial Officers stationed on the battleships above. They are enemies. All of them enemies. They are everywhere here, like dragons in the dark (and he knows deep down that he is the most terrible of them all).
Images of Padmé's stricken face dance before his eyes.
Leia is going to die.
Without quite realizing it, he finds himself clutching Leia closer, the rhythm of her heart matching the one set by the regulator on his own.
She is a pinprick of light breaking through the wall of night. And as he studies her sleeping face, sunlight seeps into his soul, driving back the black dragon of Darkness.
Even so, the dragon lunges forward when the Redrobes come for the third time. He clutches the girl closer as they enter the cell silently, grasping their electro-staffs in crushing grips. They stare at him for a moment, no doubt intrigued by the sight of him reposing with Leia cradled on his chest.
Enemies. Enemies, all of them…
Kill! Kill! Kill! The Darkness chants. Kill the enemies!
Silence! He spits to the baying Darkness.
Instead, he touches the Light inside his daughter's heartbeat. Laying her sleeping form gently on the metal floor.
And submits once more to their grasping hands.
There is no doubt in Obi-Wan's mind that Anakin is imprisoned on Byss, suffering under the Emperor's clutches.
Even so, he is unsurprised to learn the Emperor has decided not to let the crisis go to waste. Sensing an opportunity, the Emperor's propagandists have heightened the intrigue of Vader's apparent betrayal, and the Imperial Treasury has doubled the bounty on the alleged search for the fugitive Vader.
As Obi-Wan listens to the declaration of Palpatine's supposed exercise of "emergency crisis powers" on the sub-space radio, he finds grim confirmation of the Emperor's tyranny. With the faceless scapegoat of a Vader cast in the the role of traitorous junta, Palpatine has further legitimized his imposition of martial law.
That notwithstanding, Obi-Wan nonetheless marvels at Palpatine's apparent over-confidence. Far from causing the public to rally behind their leader, exaggerating the threat of Vader's "coup" has only emboldened the dissenting factions within the Empire.
Although he is not proud of the feeling, the old Jedi experiences a twist of pride in Anakin's evident skill and ability as a commander. Deprived of his direction, the Imperial forces have begun to flounder, leading to mass civil unrest on many of the more volatile planets. A sardonic part of Obi-Wan is forced to admit Anakin might have made for a competent dictator. Without the might and command of Vader's leadership, systems everywhere have begun to revolt against the faltering Imperial Military, embracing the aid of the Rebels.
This turn of events puts luck on the two jedis's side as starships scramble to suppress the Rebel terrorist attacks erupting across the galaxy.
As a result, their small ship is able to slip through the treacherous Deep Core corridors unnoticed in the rippling radiographic wake of the massive vessels. Both masters are fair pilots. However, it is almost assured that without such a fateful boon, they would have otherwise been forced to circumnavigate the more treacherous hyperspace corridors.
Obi-Wan heaves a sigh of relief and says a prayer of thanks to the Force, taking it as a sign of its approval. A blessing of a kind.
He is still tired, but he cannot sleep. Anakin's bond is pulled taut, grasping and releasing with waves of pain that he surely does not realize torment Obi-Wan as much as if he were to let go and let the pain crash over his Master. The knowledge certainly does nothing to help the aching of the scars inside his lungs. Each breath falls just a little short, hitching in the back of his throat.
Obi-Wan can duel in this condition. He must. And he gladly will. But he knows it is not likely he will survive it.
He can sense Anakin more and more clearly now. His Force presence is heavy with the weight of his power. Diminished though he is. Stricken, though he is. There is an awe-someness to his Force signature, like a power of nature, a hurricane, both horrible and hagiographic.
As they approach the perverted paradise planet, they both grow grim with the Darkness emanating from within. It is a testament to the Emepror's terrible power. Just as they sense him, it is very likely that Sidious is aware of them as well.
Both have sought to conceal themselves within the Light, but much like Anakin, Master Yoda's glistening presence might well shine through even the most skilled attempt at camouflage.
The oppressive silence has broken as they have begun to discuss the strategy of their incursion. It must be swift. Definitive. A surprise, if possible. The Emperor cannot be allowed to live.
"We can press our advantage if we find and free Anakin before engaging Darth Sidious."
Master Yoda looks up at him, his wrinkled face grave.
"Compromised your judgment is, Obi-Wan. Changed, Skywalker is. Survive, he must. But worthy of trust, he is not."
Indignance surges in Obi-Wan as he runs a thumb over his saber clipped within his robes. It is the saber with which Anakin had saved him on Alderaan; he had found it laid carefully in the bottom of the medical supply box left by his Padawan on Tattooine, returned to him safe and sound.
"Your distrust drove him away once," Obi-Wan says evenly, his fingertips scraping idly over the hilt of the lightsaber. The lightsaber based on which Anakin had once constructed his own.
"It confirmed all the lies that Palpatine had told him." His tone is gentle, but his words are pointed.
"Have we learned nothing, Master…" He asks rhetorically, with an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
There is a sudden shift in the atmosphere as Yoda's presence withdraws from him, almost as if he is downcast.
"Learned something, you have? What then?" Yoda asks with a mysterious look. "What is this that you have learned, Obi-Wan?"
Yoda's face conceals a secret known only to himself.
Obi-Wan pauses, studying the green Jedi. He is utterly inscrutable. And so, Obi-Wan foregoes a response.
"I will not—I cannot—abandon Anakin in practice or in principle. I will not do it. Once before, you forced my hand, and I have paid the price for it ever since."
His throat tightens as he feels another rush of pain ripple in muted waves from Anakin's side of their bond.
"I maimed him." Obi-Wan continues, his voice dropping almost to a whisper as he takes a breath, still unused to his own diminished lung capacity. "I dismembered my own Padawan…And I left him on those lava shores…For ten years, I left him there. Begging me to reach down and save him from the burning sands."
He sees a sliver of doubt shiver across Yoda's face. A crack in the façade as Obi-Wan's voice strains and rasps with sudden emotion.
He coughs into his hand.
"I did what was necessary. I do not deny it. But when I found Anakin on Kalakar. When he was half-dead and delirious with fever, he begged me…he begged me to know why I'd left him there. And it was because I loved him too much. Because when I looked down at those yellow eyes, I saw them as sky-blue, set in the face of a ten-year-old child. And I could not do it."
He has the old Jedi's attention now. He knows it in the quirk of his ears. The tensing of hunched shoulders. So, Obi-Wan goes for the final blow.
"I told you that I could not do it, but still, you made me, Master. You made me butcher my little boy…!"
Obi-Wan stops, an epiphany coming out as a slip of the tongue.
On Mustafar, he had called Anakin "brother." Deprived of family. Deprived of normalcy. Cocooned within the Jedi Order, "brother" was the only familial word he had known. Obi-Wan had no mother or father. But now, wizened by his years…he knows. He knows that which he meant and could not name. It is a mixture of many things. A kaleidoscope of feelings too complex and poignant to simplify.
His brother. His boy. His child. His son.
The silence drags. The only sound is the whir of quiet engines. He cannot read Yoda's expression. Until, at last, the old master clears his throat.
"At last, learned, you have, Obi-Wan," Yoda says quietly. "Think you that I have not suffered…? That I have not regrets?"
Obi-Wan eyes him mutely.
"A father and mother, did I have, once long ago. Know the love of a father, did I. The love of a mother. And yet, the same did I deny to the Order's children. A fool I was, Obi-Wan."
The air is thick with a pregnant pause and then: "Compromised your judgment is. But wrong, I did not say this was. Your anger toward me, justified it is. Trust Skywalker, I cannot. But on your judgment, I will rely. If such feelings in you he stirs, then perhaps it is I who cannot see…"
Within the heart of the citadel, Anakin has been stripped and bound. Throughout his time with Sidious, it has been done so often that it is hardly a humiliation. Though they have left his prosthetics, they have shackled his artificial limbs, leaving him trussed and at their mercy. As they have done continuously throughout their "session," the Redrobes bring forth an IT-O Interrogator.
Without hesitation, its unfeeling needles are plunged again into his abdomen, pumping liquid acid into his veins in ever-increasing dosages. Anakin tenses but gives no outward sign of pain. Once, he would have screamed. But he knows and he has learned. To scream does him no good. Not in the clutches of Darth Sidious. There is nothing and no one to hear. No one will save him. And no one will care.
Anakin swims in that sea of rising and falling agony. Fighting to keep himself. To keep his hold on his faculties. He turns away from the warm glow of Obi-Wan's Force bond, almost crushing it shut with exertion. He must endure this alone. He cannot risk Obi-Wan and he cannot risk Luke. He will not call out to him. No matter how he suffers. He cannot….HE CANNOT…HE WILL NOT. He must endure. He must stay alive. He must wait. Surely, Sidious will make a mistake…surely he will present him with an opportunity…!
Anakin rallies himself by turns. Seizing and shutting off the inviting Light of his Master's concern, the fear and love leaking through the cracks of his control.
Still, he does not reach back.
When his agony is at its peak, Anakin's delirious mind begins to play tricks on him. The Force bond takes on a form of its own, as its essence morphs into the shape of Obi-Wan, sitting beside him as he had throughout his illness and recovery.
The sensation is so real he almost believes that if he opened his eyes, he'd see him. Wearing those damn Jedi robes. Reading a book of philosophy. A cup of tea in hand and, for some reason, a blooming desert cactus on his windowsill.
The thought is a warm comfort. His only comfort in burning pain. He basks in it. Resting on it. Like a scrap of driftwood in the ocean.
But then, for a moment, his mind goes blank …
….
And then it is like an explosion inside his mind, an intruder, forceful and violent. Suddenly, he has the unerring sensation that a shadow stands before him—a hooded figure smiling with gnarled gums. The phantom of Obi-Wan's presence is swallowed up, replaced by the shape of that shadow.
… Ungrateful whelp!
He had known this was coming. But he had hoped it would not come so soon. Anakin tries to hide himself. But the pain and power are too strong.
Still crying for that Jedi, are you? I am your Master. If it had not been for me, you would be ashes!
The voice is rummaging through him, ripping, pulling, tossing thoughts and memories as if they are a pile of scraps with which to play.
He ruined you. And left your pathetic corpse to bake on a bed of brimstone. It was I who saved you! I who salvaged what meager usefulness remained in your wasted life.
To Anakin's horror, an image of Luke's face floats across his mind. In half a heartbeat, the Dark tendrils snatch the fragile memory, seizing it in a proverbial fist.
And what is this? Oh…oh, this is interesting. A boy, too. My, my, you were a virile one... A shame you could not have bred more.
No! Anakin screams inside himself, latching on to whatever he can, even as his own mind seems to slip through his fingers. How could he have been so stupid! At last, he manages to catch hold of Obi-Wan's bond, pulling it down within himself, diving into the murky depths of his being, and taking his memories with him.
Perhaps the girl will be useful to me after all…now that I know there is a spare…Where is he? Show me! Show me where he is!
Never! He growls.
Anakin crawls deeper into his mind, pulling down his shields in an attempt to shatter the remaining shards of Sidious's tendril.
A sing-song voice oozes like oil across the depths of his mindscape.
Come out, come out, my old friend. I am your Master and I will find him eventually.
Anakin does not answer. He is plunging. Falling. Dragging with him all the knowledge of Tattooine. The smell of the Lars' adobe. The warmth of Luke's embrace.
He takes all of it, and he flees. He flees like a hunted animal. There is no dragon here. Only the mind of a beaten dog.
You may hide your memories. But I will find him 'Lord' Vader.' I promise you I will.
A chuckle.
But in the meantime, if I cannot have you willingly, then perhaps this carcass, which you have so graciously vacated, will yet be of some use to me...
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