—PART TWO—

T W I L I G H T

Chapter 28: Fraternus Amor

CORUSCANT: IMPERIAL PALACE: EMPEROR'S THRONE ROOM

Darkness.

Secrets.

Betrayal.

It was not uncommon for a Sith master and apprentice to keep secrets from one another. In-fact, like betrayal, it was expected. Even prized. So, for Darth Sidious, to learn of Lord Vader's betrayal was in itself a relief. It had proved beyond doubt, that his powerful young apprentice had willingly taken yet another step into the Dark Side of the Force.

Seated upon his throne, his unseeing eyes focused like sharpened pinpricks, Darth Sidious gazed through the armoured transparisteel to the Coruscant city nightscape outside. Not on the city itself, but on the dark undulating currents of the Force.

Vader's betrayal had intrigued him.

But the motivation behind his apprentice's secret was concerning. As was the unexpected and highly irritating interference of his former Jedi master, Obi-wan Kenobi, during their ritual to form the dyad.

He'd been so close. So close to finally succeeding where all other Sith before him failed. He'd had the last lingering presence of Skywalker sealed within his grasp. And while he'd been mercilessly consuming the last of Vader's Light with the tendrils, he had felt their Force-bond growing stronger.

The revelation that his apprentice's offspring had survived and that there were indeed two of them, had been a surprise to be sure—but a welcome one. Plus, protecting them had proved to be just the distraction needed to unbalance what remained of the former Jedi. And as disturbing as it was, knowing there would soon be two powerful new Skywalkers roaming the galaxy, Sidious knew Vader would surrender them given the correct motivation.

But... Kenobi?

There were only two Jedi in the galaxy Darth Sidious actually feared. Skywalker—who he had all but manipulated into complete submission. And Kenobi. Not for Kenobi's mediocre fighting skills, mind you, nor for his less than impressive connection to the Force. But because he could still sense a hint of the blasted attachment that had once existed between the pair. An attachment that had the potential to undo everything.

For months he had patiently worked to convince his transitioning apprentice to abandon his need for revenge over Mustafar. Never truly convinced that Vader would survive another encounter with the Jedi. Sure, Lord Vader was powerful. Gifted in the Force like no other. But when it came to Kenobi... well... Sidious feared the conflicted feelings his apprentice still harboured toward his former Master could potentially weaken him. And he needed Vader alive and under his control. The continued success of their Empire depended on it.

Drumming his fingers on the armrests, Sidious sneered. Exactly how had Kenobi managed to interject himself into their ritual?

Was he here? On Coruscant?

Impossible. He would have sensed the Jedi's presence. Could his involvement have been a result of the new serum? He knew Vader's shielding abilities had been severely weakened by the new formula—that had been the point; he had needed unhindered access to his apprentice's inner-psyche in order to manifest the dyad.

Was that how Kenobi had been alerted and managed to find his way in? Had the Jedi somehow sensed the Force shift across their once forgotten bond? That would be the best explanation of course. Otherwise, it could only mean one thing...

No. He needed answers. Moreover, he needed proof.

Closing his eyes, Sidious leaned back in his throne and sank deeply into the Force. He would seek out his wayward apprentice again, dig deeper to see what else he could uncover. And this time, he was not going to be gentle.

DROMUND KAAS: KAAS CITY

It was well after midnight by the time Vader had seen the Inquisitors to their new headquarters and secured the Jedi prisoners inside their cells. He was exhausted. The stress of the last few days had finally taken its toll, and it was taking every last bit of strength he had to slowly trudge up the stairs into his suite. Hopefully the supply ship had arrived while he'd been offworld, and he'd be able to take off the suit and recoup inside his new hyperbaric chamber. Or perhaps sink into the bacta tank, and just let his mind and wounds heal while he meditated. After he'd seen Luke and Leia that was.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Vader staggered to a stop, then grabbed for his helmet, as another debilitating throb squeezed his head. The headaches were getting worse. What had first been a painful stabbing sensation where his Master had probed him, was now a silent, malignant pound that seemed to manifest inside the deepest corners of his brain, and spread until he could no longer think straight. A pound so powerful; he could barely see.

He needed rest. More than that, he needed Padmé. He craved the soothing touch of her embrace; the sweet floral scent of her hair; her comforting words that always managed to soothe his aching heart.

But Padmé was gone. Had abandoned him at a time when he'd been most vulnerable. Had run off with Organa whilst he'd still been asleep. Had left him to suffer the agonising torture of his Master's ire alone, despite his monumental effort the night before to embrace the Light just to please her.

It was a mistake he'd vowed to not make again .

When she'd called from the Rebel base, he'd sensed her intentions the very instant he'd answered. She hadn't called to see how he was, or to ask how he'd gone with his Master. No. She'd called because she'd wanted something. Just like so many times before during the war. He'd realised back then, that Padmé had only ever called for one of two reasons. Either she'd needed sensitive information that only a Jedi had access to, or she'd needed to be rescued.

Only now, knowing she could feel his pain—even if only the slightest trace of it—and for her not to call to see how he was, but rather to ask something of him...

And for the damned rebellion of all things... Hurt.

It cut deep. Cut him so deep, that he'd struggled to even look at her, let alone speak her name. And when she'd asked about the Jedi, about Eeth Koth, who he had only recently dismembered and tortured to within almost breaking point, that hurt had quickly turned into anger. He'd had to turn away, wanting nothing more than to reach through the holo-projection, grab hold of her by the wrist, and tell her that he didn't give a damn about the Jedi. That he couldn't care less if the Jedi was dead.

And the worst part was... when he'd finally hung up on her... he'd gone straight back into that interrogation room, and in a fit of jealous rage, had beat that blasted Zabrak Jedi senseless. Beat him so thoroughly—so viciously—that Koth was now lying bloodied and broken on the floor of a cell in the Citadel dungeon, with a medical droid, and a tube shoved down his crushed throat just so he could breathe. He still didn't care if Koth lived or died. At the time... he had just wanted to punish the Zabrak for stealing his wife's attention. He had wanted to kill him. Not with the Force... but with his own bare hands.

Anger rose in his breast at the thought of his brutal assault on the Zabrak. He inwardly reached for it, hoping to draw on its power to will away the crippling headache. But before he could reach it, before he could even lay a mental finger on the thrumming essence of his own hate's power... it dissipated. Slipping away from his grasp. He was too exhausted—both mentally and physically—to properly focus. With a sigh, he lifted his pounding head. Then—taking far more effort than it should—he opened the door, and slowly trudged inside his suite.

The chamber was dark when he entered. The only visible light being the soft yellow glow emanating from the dimmed angular lamps hung upon the walls. A gentle snore drifted on the silent night air, the owner of which was currently stretched out and fast asleep, in the old recliner by the transparisteel balcony doors.

Vader paused on the rug between his command desk and his and Padmé's bedroom. He quietly observed Obi-wan as he slept—well, as quietly as he could considering the monotonous rasp and hiss of his respirator. Obi-wan snorted, then curled into a ball and pulled his robe in tight under his chin. Still, Vader waited. And for a fleeting moment, he was envious. Envious that his former master had the ability to sleep.

He longed for sleep— real sleep. When he'd passed out on Coruscant after drinking almost a full bottle of whiskey, that had been the closest thing to proper sleep he had had in months... possibly years. At least he hadn't had a nightmare from what little he could remember. No. Instead, the nightmare had been waiting for him when he'd awoke. Abruptly, two vibrant lights flickered in his mind's eye, their blinding luminosity penetrating the thick haze and pounding throb of his headache. Vader turned, gazed at the open door to his bedroom.

His children... his children were in that room. His two miraculous little secrets that gave him reason to live. He stretched out with his senses and reached toward them with the Force, wanting to let them know he was near, without actually waking them. One of the lights responded, ignited in his vision like the flash of a solar flare. And inside the mask, Vader smiled. On instinct, he went to take a step forward when a voice calling from within the room rooted him to the spot.

"Dada..."

And when he heard his son call out for him, his heart melted. He was inside the bedroom and beside the crib in a flash. "Luke..." Vader said, staring in wonder at the blonde-haired boy gazing up at him. His twin sister was still fast asleep. But Luke was sat bolt upright. His two tiny arms outstretched high above his head. His precious little fingers wriggling beckoningly toward Vader's mask.

"Dada... Dada..." Luke whimpered, his bright blue eyes glistening with only love.

Desperate to hold his son, Vader reached into the crib, scooped the boy into his arms, and pulled him to his chest. Then, the comforting warmth of Luke's Force presence wrapped around him like a blanket. Vader's pain melted away. The constant pounding in his head—disappeared. And for a long moment it felt as though nothing outside of him and his son existed. As if the pain, confusion, exhaustion, and frustration of the past few days was but a distant memory. Using the Force, he pulled the length of his cloak across his shoulder, and draped it over the boy nestled in his arms. Then, he started to sway, autonomously moving to rock his son back to sleep, so lost in the moment he never heard his former master's approach.

"You're back later than expected."

Obi-wan's voice tore him from the trance. And within seconds, the pain, confusion and exhaustion flooded back. Vader inwardly cursed, then said, "Yes..."

"I've been waiting for you," Obi-wan said, folding his arms in the doorway.

He bit down an annoyed grunt. "So, I see."

A gentle snore sounded from Luke in his arms, and Vader looked down. Only to see his son had drifted back off to sleep. A solid lump formed in his throat at the sight. It was the most surreal of feelings; to see someone so small and vulnerable—albeit a child of his own flesh and blood—be comfortable enough in his presence to fall asleep. Vader returned to the crib and gently laid his son back down alongside his sister. Then, he leaned forward and rested his gloved hands upon the crib railing, content with simply watching his two children sleep.

Obi-wan huffed at his back, and Vader forced himself to ignore it. It had felt like an eternity since he had seen his children, and just being in their presence again was soothing. But after just a few short and peaceful moments of basking in their warmth, it seemed his respite was over. Obi-wan had, apparently, had enough of waiting.

"Is Padmé in the fresher?" the Jedi asked.

Vader stiffened, felt his entire body go rigid as the unwelcome torrent of anguish and betrayal once again squirmed inside his chest. Obi-wan may as well have run him through with his lightsaber. He turned, glared at the Jedi in the doorway. "No..."

"Oh...," was all Obi-wan could say in response.

The very mention of his wife's name had Vader's anger building. And, with the intensity of his and his children's familial Force-bond, he knew it wouldn't be long before he woke them. He turned from the crib, strode past Obi-wan standing in the doorway and carried on into the sitting room. He stopped between the recliners and folded his arms. Then, staring blindly at the darkened cityscape, he muttered, "Padmé... is gone."

"What do you mean—Padmé's gone?" Obi-wan asked, a hint of confusion—and perhaps more surprisingly; anger—colouring his tone. "I thought she was coming with you."

Vader tightened his arms beneath his chest plate. "Yes. So did I."

Stopped beside him at the balcony, Obi-wan sighed, then followed his gaze to the city. "So... Where is she?"

He clenched his jaw, tried to keep his cool. "She has run off...," he said carefully, then added: "With Organa."

A barely audible gasp came from Obi-wan stood beside him. As if he had almost tried to hide his apparent shock. "She did... What?" he asked incredulously. "After everything we discussed? But why would she do that, Anakin? I don't understand. She said she was coming back."

"She lied," he growled lowly. Then, irritated by his next thought, he swung his mask around and met Obi-wan's gaze. "Padmé lied to me, Obi-wan. She lied to us both."

"But surely, she must know how dangerous going to that base is. What if someone discovers the truth about your marriage? Have you spoken with her since?"

Vader growled, remembering the reasoning for her call, then looked back to the city. "Yes...," he said.

"Did she say why, or even when she was coming back?"

"She did not."

Obi-wan shook his head in disbelief. "I'm sorry Anakin, I truly am. But what was she thinking? I just can't believe Padmé would do something so reckless. Not with knowing how much is at stake."

"Indeed...," Vader muttered, growing tired of the conversation. He didn't want to think about it anymore. Then, he felt Obi-wan's hand come to rest heavily upon his shoulder. No doubt his former master had meant for it to be comforting, but Vader only stiffened more at the unwanted contact.

Seeming to sense his unease, Obi-wan cleared his throat, then softened his tone and asked, "And... how are you... Well, you know... feeling about all this?"

Vader rolled his eyes. It was such a ridiculous question. Obi-wan didn't really care about how he felt, he was only concerned with finding out what the potential aftermath of his wife's betrayal would look like. Of course, Obi-wan could pretend to care all he liked, but it would not alter the truth. Vader knew no-one cared how he felt. No-one had ever given a damn about how things had affected him. As long as he'd always been a good little Jedi, and done and said exactly as everyone had expected, then his feelings had been irrelevant. And in the end, when he'd failed to live up to their expectations, they'd turned against him. Even Padmé had abandoned him, right when he'd needed her most. He grunted, "Does it matter?"

"Would I have asked if it didn't?" Obi-wan said, and Vader felt the truth of his former master's sentiment echo within the Force.

Silence fell between them like a hammer. A gaping void opened within Vader's chest as he struggled to make himself believe it was true. But then, the dragon woke up. And it whispered to him in its cold, dead-star voice: He cut off your legs, remember? He stood there and watched you burn, then left you to die. How could he possibly care after doing that?

Annoyed, yet somehow feeling much more like himself and in control, Vader jerked out from under Obi-wan's touch and stabbed the air between them with his finger. "Your lame attempt at compassion is wasted on me, Obi-wan," he spat. Then, he whirled on his heel, turned his back on the Jedi and headed for his command desk. "If it wasn't for my children, you wouldn't be here."

"Anakin..." Obi-wan called after him, but Vader ignored him. "Please listen..." Obi-wan tried again. "It was a genuine question. After what happened the other night, I'm concerned that—"

Vader thumped his fist on the console. "No! We... are not discussing that!"

"What?" Obi-wan exclaimed. "Anakin, you cannot be serious. We need to make plans now—Before it's too late!"

And at that moment, the door to the royal chamber whooshed open, and both men looked up.

"What's going on in here?" Sabé asked with a yawn, dressed in her silken white nightgown and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "I can hear the yelling from my bedroom."

Vader glowered at the handmaiden; at the very same woman who had worked day and night to convince Padmé into leaving him. And now, it seemed, she had succeeded... without her even being there.

"It's nothing, Sabé," Obi-wan said dismissively, quickly working to send her away. "Just go back to bed."

Bleary-eyed, the handmaiden looked between Vader and Obi-wan, appearing to take a minute or two to focus. She soon woke up though, and in seconds, her eyes narrowed on Vader at the command desk.

"Oh good, you're back," Sabé said quietly. Then, as if looking for something, she hurriedly glanced around the sitting room, looking from wall, to door, to chair, seeming to not find who or what she was looking for. Appearing to give up, she turned her gaze back to Vader. "Where is Padmé?"

Grinding his teeth, Vader ignored the question and keyed for the controls on his command desk. As irritating as Padmé's handmaiden was, he was, in a way, at least thankful for her interruption. He wasn't ready to discuss the troubling events of the other night—Not yet. Not until he'd had the chance to properly meditate on it further. There were, however, a couple other things he was more than ready for. For instance; to use the coordinates he'd covertly gained from Padmé's wrist-com to locate the Rebel base she was now hiding on. But not only that, he still needed to make contact with Boba Fett, to see whether or not he had been successful with his little mission. Because if he had, Organa would then have the ultimate choice; convince Padmé to return to him, and inturn save his own wife and rebellion, or...

"Sabé...," Obi-wan said to the handmaiden softly, interrupting his thoughts, "Padmé isn't here. She never came back with him."

Upon hearing this, Vader waited. He expected the usual accusing outburst to come spewing from the handmaiden's mouth, for her to start blaming him for his own wife's disappearance. But, it didn't. And through the Force, he sensed only a gentle current of sadness and compassion emanate from her. Stunned, he looked up. Only to see Sabé standing beside Obi-wan, and staring sadly at him from across the room.

"Oh, Anakin... I'm so sorry," Sabé said to him, and sensing her comment to be truthful; Vader choked. "You must be devastated."

He stared at the woman, her words catching him off guard. Sabé never called him by his birth name. Not anymore. In fact, she had been violently opposed to anyone calling him by his birth name since the events of Mustafar. So, what changed? And why was she suddenly so interested in his feelings? The question unnerved him. More than that, his exposed vulnerability... his implied weakness... sickened him. He clenched his fists, went back to entering the coordinates into his command console, and growled. "I did not ask for your sympathy, handmaiden."

"I know you didn't. But you have it now, regardless," Sabé said matter-of-factly, seeming to not be put off by his harsh response. She yawned. "Anyway, since Padmé isn't here, I am going back to bed. And I don't suppose the two of you could keep it down a little, could you? I would like to at least get some sleep before the children wake up."

"Yes, of course, my lady," Obi-wan curtly apologised, "sorry."

Vader briefly inclined his head to look at the handmaiden. There was something in the way she'd said that... something that struck a nerve. He would give anything to just be with Luke and Leia. To not have to do anything, not have to go anywhere, but be around to be the father they so truly deserved. But he couldn't. And to hear someone be unappreciative of their presence was beyond insulting.

"My apologies," Vader bluntly intoned. "I was not aware my children were such a burden. Rest assured... They will be of your concern, no longer."

Obi-wan gawked at him, then shook his head in disapproval. "Anakin...," he chided in his usual berating tone.

But Vader had no interest in being cordial. Nor was he interested in being scolded. He had far too much on his mind, too much to organise, too much to even think about, to worry about such trivial things as being polite. His head was aching; the heaving pound striking harder and stronger than ever before. And hearing Sabé complain about being around his children, was like listening to some bug; to some annoying, persistent, stinging little insect he'd very much like to crush within his fist. Upon the desk, his fingers reflexively twitched, and for a split-second, he actually considered it. He could do it from here, from behind the command desk. It would be all too easy.

"Honestly, I don't know why I even bothered," Sabé said, the exasperation in her tone as clear to Vader as a slap to the face. She then huffed rather loudly from the doorway and turned to leave. "Well... Goodnight Obi-wan. I guess, I will see you in the morning."

Obi-wan waited for Sabé to reach her bedroom, then closed the door and re-joined Anakin at the command desk. Silently stroking his beard, he watched the brooding Sith focus, watched him triangulate different coordinates on the holo-map with alarming intensity. Even though he had long-since grown accustomed to his former padawan's now Dark Side Force-presence, there was something oddly disturbing about his current behaviour. And his emotions seemed all over the place. Sure, Anakin was understandably upset over Padmé's decision to leave, but that wasn't all of it. No, Obi-wan was certain he'd sensed something else lurking inside that twisted mind of his. Something obscure, and sinister... something so vile and insidious, that even Anakin himself seemed almost unwilling to acknowledge it.

Knowing it was pointless to ask Anakin outright about his feelings, Obi-wan decided on a different approach. He was determined to finagle the truth out of his fallen brother, one way or another. "You know... you never answered my question," Obi-wan said.

Vader grunted, made no apparent effort to look up from the holo-map. " What question?"

"I asked how you were feeling."

An ice-cold chill consumed the space between them. The black armoured helmet and mask, lifted. The dark, bottomless lenses which concealed the Sith's eyes perfectly, slowly rose, shifting from the holo-map to regard Obi-wan stood across from him by the desk. "How do you think... I feel?" Vader asked.

"Oh, I have some idea... but I was rather hoping you would tell me yourself."

The black mask lowered again to the desk. "For what purpose, Obi-wan?" Vader asked bitterly. "So you can pretend to care?"

Pretend to care? Obi-wan thought, then put his fist to his mouth and turned away. He recalled a conversation; one, he, Mace Windu and Master Yoda had had mere days before the fall of the Republic. Back when they'd been travelling across Coruscant inside one of their gunships, escorting Yoda to his assault cruiser in preparation for his journey to Kashyyyk. It had been just hours after he'd briefed Anakin on the details of his newest assignment, where he'd told him he'd have to spy on the Chancellor. It was a conversation he would never be able to forget in this lifetime...

"You weren't there," Obi-wan remembered himself saying, as he'd stared past the two masters to the deployment platforms beyond the gunship. "You didn't see his face. I think we have done a terrible thing."

"We don't always have the right answer," Mace Windu had said. "Sometimes there isn't a right answer."

"Know how important your friendship with young Anakin is to you, I do," Yoda had said to him then. "Allow such attachments to pass out of one's life, a Jedi must."

It hadn't been the first time Yoda had rebuked him for his attachment to Anakin, but it had been the last. And the next conversation they'd had about his former padawan and best friend, had been when he'd gone to review the security recordings in the Temple, right after the purge...

"If into the security recordings you go...," Yoda had warned him , "only pain will you find."

Pain was not nearly strong enough a word to describe the agony he'd felt at seeing Anakin slaughter the Jedi. It was as if his entire world had been swept from beneath his feet. As if his still-beating heart had been ripped from within the confines of his chest and repeatedly stabbed.

And the pain had never left him—not in all these long months.

He pushed down the memory, then brushed a tear from his eye. "I do... care, Anakin. I always have," he said sadly, keeping his back to the Sith and struggling to get words out. "I think the real problem was... I just cared too much."

Vader's respirator was loud in the silence. He said nothing in response, but then again, Obi-wan never expected him to. In a way, silence was the best response he could have hoped for... because, with Anakin, it usually meant that he'd finally listened. Obi-wan waited by the desk a few minutes longer, on the off-chance Anakin was going to say something. But when nothing came, he went to leave. "I'm going to call Padmé," he said, as he headed for the door to the passageway Sabé had previously exited through. "She needs to come back."

And just before he went to close the door behind him, Vader called out.

"Obi-wan..."

Obi-wan instantly stopped, then turned to face the Sith. "Yes, Anakin?"

"You may want to comm Commander Appo, and have him escort you to the crypt before calling her," Vader said.

"Oh? And why is that?"

Vader looked back down to his desk. "I have left... something there for you. Something you may find to be of assistance."

Curious, Obi-wan thought. But he wasn't about to get his hopes up. Anakin had averted his gaze when he'd said it, and he had a sudden sneaking suspicion he wasn't going to like what he found down there. Digging his comm out from his robe pocket, Obi-wan hesitated, then cocked a questioning brow at the Sith. "Why do I suddenly have the feeling, I am going to be disappointed?"

This time Vader didn't look up, and he didn't answer straight away. But finally, he spoke, and the accusation in his voice was clear as crystal. "After all these years, Obi-wan... one would think you would have become accustomed to disappointment."

Blast! He hadn't denied it. And now his poorly veiled jab had made Obi-wan feel even less optimistic. Force only knows what he was about to find buried inside that crypt. He sighed, keyed Commander Appo's frequency into his comm unit, then turned to leave. "Do try to get some rest, Anakin—you sound like you need it. I will let you know how I go with Padmé, when I return."