“You’ve got to eat, kid.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I don’t care if you’re not hungry. Just eat.”

“Go away.”

Han Solo sighed; this kid was more stubborn than him, and he was pretty damn stubborn. Still, he couldn’t be tough on him, could he? It had, after all, been only two days since Kenobi had died.

Or, at least, that was what they thought had happened. After the kid had woken up, he had babbled on about his ‘Master’ and -when he had calmed down enough- told them that the training bond had been cut. According to Luke, the only way a bond could be cut so suddenly was if one of them died.

‘Time to try a different approach…’

“Do you think your Master would want you to starve?” Han asked as kindly as he could.

“Well, I don’t know what he wants, because he’s dead.” Luke was curled up in a window seat, peering out of the large open window. He did not turn around as he spoke and his tone did not change. Han didn’t remember him crying at all. Either he didn’t care about that Kenobi as much as he claimed to or he was very adept at hiding his emotions.

Han sighed, placing the tray down on the desk, “Are you trying to be difficult?”

“No. I’m mourning.”

“Mourning, eh? You’re awful composed for a mourner.”

“You come in here three times a day for approximately three minutes; how do you know you haven’t just caught me when I’m feeling alright?”

“Because everyone else that visits you has commented on your stoic behaviour, too. It’s been two days-“

“Two days,” the kid repeated, turning round to face Han, “Two days! Oh and I suppose two days is enough time to forget the man who raised me!”

“I didn’t mean that!” Han snapped, rapidly losing his patience. How did he get stuck playing waiter to this irritating nit, anyway?

“I meant, shouldn’t you at least try to step outside? Go for a walk! Do something other than sit at that damn window, looking at Sith knows what!” Han gestured wildly to the window.

Luke stared at him silently. His lips curved into a sad smile, “Maybe I’m waiting for him; waiting for him to come back and tell me that everything’s okay…That it was all a mistake. Maybe I’m just a little boy waiting for my Father to come home.” A tear rolled down his cheek. He brushed it away angrily.

Han left, but not before telling the guard at Luke’s door that no one was to disturb him.

After all, he was just a kid.

But, he was nearly certain.

Obi-Wan tried- with some difficulty- to arrange himself so that he was sat cross-legged.

‘Damn chains keep getting in the way,’ he thought as he strained to move his knee past the chain. The Force-suppressing binders had been replaced with strange cuffs that were some sort of variation on the binders, as he still couldn’t access the Force very well. He could feel it, but it was as if, when he reached for it, someone pulled it just out of his grasp. He had enough control to maintain his strongest mental shields now, but when he had first been brought before Vader…

The Sith had invaded his mind, the fact that they were bonded helping him to bypass Obi-Wan’s shields. Vader’s mind had brushed the surface of his bond with Luke and Obi-Wan had panicked, sending Luke one last message before he cut the mental link. His primary concern was protecting Luke and had been for the last sixteen years. He had passed out from psychic-shock and he was fairly sure Luke had too.

‘He’s going to think I’m dead,’ had been one of Obi-Wan’s main thoughts as he sat in the darkened room. They gave him a single meal of what tasted like wet sand each day and a couple of bowls of water. Not exactly what he would’ve selected to put on the menu, but he wasn’t dead.

‘Not yet,’ he thought gloomily.

He looked up as the cell door slid upwards, revealing Vader’s tall form. He took a few steps into the cell and then shut the door behind him. Obi-Wan heard numerous locks sliding closed. Harsh lighting flickered on directly above the Jedi.

“Do you find your accommodation favourable?” Vader inquired. Obi-Wan was sure he was smirking, even if he couldn’t see because of that horrible mask.

He glanced up at Vader, “I’ve had better.”

“Hmmm. I’m sure you have.” The taller man walked towards the bench that ran around the edge of the cell and- with his back to Obi-Wan- took off his robe, folded it and put it down.

“I sensed a training bond, before you so rudely broke it,” Vader said conversationally. He untied the belt of his outer tunic and then looked at Obi-Wan again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Vader.”

“Oh, Jedi; don’t lie to me. I can sense your every thought now that we’re near each other again.”

“Don’t be so arrogant. Arrogance was always your downfall.”

“It was you who was arrogant, Kenobi. Thinking you could train me. Thinking you could have me.”

“I never wanted you.” Obi-Wan retorted.

‘Liar!’

“Never wanted me,” Vader repeated coolly. His eyes narrowed and then he gave an elaborate sigh, “Oh well.”

“Oh well?” Obi-Wan blinked.

“Yes. I could’ve done this the easy way, Jedi- the relatively pain-free way- but no; you insulted me and now, I’m afraid this is going to be very displeasing for you.”

Vader’s gloved hands moved to the side of his face, unclipping something. The mask fell into his hand and he put it on top of his folded tunic and robe.

Obi-Wan stared at him…he couldn’t help it. He was still so beautiful- if that word could be applied to a man- and unchanged. Every aspect of the familiar face was the same, apart from his eyes; his murderous eyes.

“I’ll ask you once more, Kenobi. Who is the boy?”

‘Diversion.’

“My apprentice; the son of a friend of Qui-Gon’s…His parents were killed for being loyal to the Republic.”

“Not the truth, Obi-Wan; but not a lie either.” Anakin- ‘No, mustn’t think of him as Anakin! He wears Anakin’s face that’s all! Anakin is dead!’

Vader approached him and stooped down. Roughly, he put a gloved finger until Obi-Wan’s chin, forcing him to look at him.

“You could’ve come with me all those years ago, Obi-Wan. You could’ve been safe.”

Obi-Wan did not reply.

“I loved you, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan glared at him and then spat in his face, which was- in retrospect- a rather stupid move.

“You know nothing of love, you Sith bastard!” Obi-Wan hissed.

Wearing a look which Obi-Wan guessed many had seen before he had choked them, Vader wiped the spit from his cheek.

“Nothing?” he said softly. He gripped Obi-Wan’s wrists in his hands, moving so quick that Obi-Wan had no chance to struggle.

“I’ll show you love,” Vader sneered. He swiftly leant forward, pressing his lips to Obi-Wan’s.

He tasted of ice and of darkness, yet the taste that was ‘Anakin’ was still there. It was so very wrong, Obi-Wan knew, but he didn’t want it to end. Regaining control of himself, he shifted his knee and caught Vader in the stomach.

Vader grunted in pain and staggered backwards. Obi-Wan barely had time to catch a much-needed breath before Vader snarled and leant in again. This time, the kiss- if it could even been called a kiss- was merciless. He bit down hard on Obi-Wan’s lips, drawing blood. He thrust his tongue so far into Obi-Wan’s mouth that he gagged. Due to the fact that he was chained to the floor, Obi-Wan couldn’t move away.

He was helpless. He was going to die. And his last memory of Anakin would be tainted by the actions of this monster.

“Get onto your knees,” He said, relishing the delicious taste of those words.

Obi-Wan just looked at him.

‘A Jedi until the end,’ Vader thought, grimacing. He delivered a sharp blow to Obi-Wan’s cheek with his artificial hand.

“On your knees!”

“Fuck you,” Obi-Wan replied quietly. Vader struck him again on the same cheek and was rewarded with a stifled exclamation..

“Do it, Kenobi.”

Again, he did not reply.

Vader was not a patient man and what little patience he did have had been spent long before he had entered Obi-Wan’s cell. He grabbed Obi-Wan by the hair and pulled him to his knees.

Still gripping his hair, Vader walked around Obi-Wan so that he was stood directly behind him.

He let go on his hair and kicked him in the lower back so that he fell forward onto all-fours.

“Stay where you are,” He ordered, “If you move I will slit your throat. And then, I’ll go to Alderaan and slit Padmé’s throat. And her daughter’s and husband’s right in front of her. And you know what I’ll tell them; I’ll tell them it was because of you. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Was the toneless reply. It sounded as if Obi-Wan was trying to distance himself from the situation.

‘My foolish former Master, you shall not succeed. I know your only weakness, Obi-Wan; you’re only one. Me. You shall break before you shatter.’

Harshly, he grabbed the waistband of Obi-Wan’s pants and pulled them down.

By the Force…Obi-Wan did have a delectable ass. He always had. The one part of Kenobi Vader would admit to missing- only to himself of course, when he was feeling particularly pensive and had nothing else to think about- was his ass.

He stroked one of the fingers from his real hand down Obi-Wan’s spine, across his buttocks and then briefly dug his nails into Obi-Wan’s side.

“Between you and me,” he whispered in Obi-Wan’s ear, bending over the elder man so that his stomach was flat against Obi-Wan’s back, “I’m going to enjoy this.”

He stood upright and reached to unbuckle the belt of his pants.

A soft ‘drip’ noise met his ears.

He frowned; there it was again. Strangely, he immediately realised that Obi-Wan was crying.

Vader squatted down in front of Obi-Wan. More gently than before, he tilted Obi-Wan’s chin up to face him.

“Why are you crying?” he asked softly. His tone was not gentle- like his touch- but it was no longer malicious.

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan answered, laughing through his tears.

‘He’s going to get hysterical if this continues.’

Vader frowned at him, making a decision.

“You’re pathetic,” He told Obi-Wan, his voice as cool as his lips. He pushed Obi-Wan backwards so that he was sitting, collected his clothes and without another word, exited the cell.

Vader told himself that he hadn’t spared him- ‘Not spared, merely…postponed his demise’ he was quick to remind himself- because he cared about Obi-Wan’s welfare. He was doing it because he had no desire to destroy Kenobi when he was being so fucking pathetic.

‘You’re his weakness…his one weakness. And you could’ve used that to crush him. You could have make him beg for mercy. But you didn’t. You’re his weakness, yes, but you know what? He’s your weakness too.’

Mon Mothma frowned at him, “We have a more precise location of the Death Star now, thanks to the homing beacon in Master Kenobi’s ship.”

“More precise because this terror is getting closer,” Bail sighed, “There is nothing we can do.”

“You could destroy it,” said a quiet voice behind them. They all turned. Luke was stood beneath an archway which led into an antechamber.

“And how would we do that? Who are you?” Mothma asked, speaking as she would to a small child.

“I’m Luke Skywalker. Obi-Wan was my Master.” He came closer, coming to stand at the head of the large table, “As to how we would destroy it, high-energy plasma bombs placed at strategic points around the Death Stat would blow it up. Space stations have huge circuits which control the whole of the- for instance- lighting. It’s so that they can be built quicker, you see. Blow up part of the circuit and the destruction would spread. “

“How do you know of this apparent flaw and we do not?” questioned a Mon Calamari.

“Turns out that Captain Solo is very good with computers. And hacking into them. We managed to get a decent model of the Death Star. Just showing how all the electrical circuits, mind you, but that’s all we need.” The Rebels did not look convinced.

He looked at each one of them in turn, “I’ve had strategy training- from a Jedi and General, no less-, so you need not fear this going horribly wrong. If you stick to the plan, obviously.”

“A team taking part in this mission would die in the explosion.”

“Not if you used the right timer-system. I can probably figure something out; I’m good at building things.”

“How exactly would a team get onto the Death Star?” Bail asked.

“You’re meant to be a military rebellion; you figure it out.” Luke smirked at him, his manner flippant. A human general hid a smile behind his hand as Bail stared at the teenager, appearing highly offended.

As the meeting broke up, Mon approached Luke.

“Skywalker, did you say your name was?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I knew a Skywalker once; Anakin Skywalker.”

“He was my Father.”

“Your Father? But…he was a Jedi.”

Luke nodded, “He would have been expelled from the Order if his marriage had been discovered. As it was, both my parents were killed in the purges. Excuse me, there’s somebody I have to see.”

Mon folded her arms across her chest. He reminded her of someone- not Anakin, although he was remarkably similar to the young Jedi she had once known-…no; it was someone else.

And for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out who it was.

‘Damn Kenobi.’ Couldn’t theidiot maintain his shields? He was meant to be a Jedi Master for Star’s sake! He changed his path, heading towards the cell block. Since the whole incident with Obi-Wan earlier that day, he had been made livid by the fact that he essentially spared the Jedi. To counter his previous compassion, he had choked four Captains for the smallest punishable- in his opinion- offences. His Master would probably chastise him, but once he killed Kenobi…Well, his Master would be off his case for weeks, if not months.

He stepped into the cell block and the officer in charge looked up, blanching visibly when he saw Vader.

‘Something’s not right here…’ he thought suspiciously. That officer had never appeared as scared as he looked now when confronted with the Sith Lord.

“Has Kenobi been fed recently?” he asked casually. Another pulse of Obi-Wan’s discomfort made its way into his mind.

“Y-yes, milord,” the officer replied. Shakily, he pressed a button, bringing up data on the screen in front of him, “T-two hours ago.”

Vader reached out with the Force. There were seven Force-signatures- only one of them Force-sensitive- nearby, not counting the officer. Obi-Wan was the only prisoner in this block.

“What’s going on?” he growled, towering over the officer.

The officer stared at him in absolute horror before gulping, “I t-tried to stop them, milord. But they w-wouldn’t listen-“

“Stop who?”

He stormed past the officer and along the corridor that led to the cells. With something akin to panic- where that had come from, he didn’t know- he slammed his palm into the door control.

For a long moment, he just stood in the doorway, surveying the scene. Kenobi was on his back on the floor, naked to the waist with an Imperial guard straddling his hips. Five further guards were stood around cheering and laughing.

None of them had noticed Vader yet.

‘And these are the guards the Empire employs? They wouldn’t notice a rampaging rancor!’ The guard straddling Obi-Wan leant down and licked his face. Obi-Wan looked like he was going to vomit.

He looked up and his eyes found Vader’s.

No pleading in those eyes, no blame…just acceptance.

Vader hated it. He would’ve given anything for those eyes to show a spark of hate. How could a man like Obi-Wan Kenobi be reduced to acceptance of such vile things?

‘You did this to him.’

“What, exactly, is going on here?” he asked, his voice carrying more than a hint of threat.

The laughing stopped abruptly.

The guard on top of Obi-Wan went deathly white and he proceeded to gape like a fish.

“Save it for the Emperor, guard,” Vader told him, gripping the guard by the forearm and dragging him off the Jedi, “I could choke you right now, you insignificant, little worm…What makes you think you have the importance to touch my prisoner!”

“The…Emperor?” If possible, the guard became paler; if anyone was harsher than Vader, it was his Master. Few left the Imperial throne room alive if they had failed or angered the Imperial leader.

“Yes. Now. All of you!” His voice rose with each word, “GO!”

They hurried to obey, none of them wanting to be in an angry Vader’s presence for longer than necessary. Not, he supposed, that they would particularly want to be in his presence at any other time.

Once they had gone, he looked at Obi-Wan, who was pulling his tunic back on. Angrily, Vader noted the scratches and bite marks on his torso.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said quietly, looking at the floor.

“It was not to help you, Jedi. They disobeyed me.”

“I did not mean…” Obi-Wan sighed. He looked at Vader. His eyes were no longer empty but full of sincere gratitude.

“Thank you, anyway.”

Feeling strangely awkward, Vader frowned. He looked around the room-only because he didn’t want to look at his former lover- before his gaze inevitably fell on Obi-Wan, “They didn’t…?”

It seemed odd to ask such a thing, as he himself had been prepared to do the same only hours earlier.

“No,” Obi-Wan replied tightly. He tied up the belt of his tunic and then stood up.

“They took the chains off.” Vader gestured to the chains that now lay, useless, by Obi-Wan’s feet.

“Possibly they perceived it would be more rewarding if I could fight back.”

“Why didn’t you then?”

“This continued loss of connection to the Force is making me weak.”

“I did not know that the cuffs had that side-effect.”

“Well you wouldn’t, would you? Did you find some poor Force-sensitive children to test them on?”

Vader, whilst he had decided not to kill Obi-Wan for the moment, was not some Jedi; oh no! He slapped Obi-Wan hard in the face.

Obi-Wan hissed and clutched his cheek. Vader narrowed his eyes, “Do not test me, Kenobi! If you think I am going to tolerate your petty attempts to goad me you are more foolish than I thought. Continue this behaviour and I will kill you. Understood?”

Obi-Wan nodded, looking at his feet.

The Sith frowned, tapping his chin thoughtfully. He took off his black robe and held it out.

“What?” Obi-Wan said, confused.

“As it seems that the guards cannot resist your allure, you will be staying in my quarters, where I can keep an eye on you.”

“Very well.”

“It was not a request,” Vader snapped, “Put the robe on. And pull up your hood; I don’t want any of the crew on this space station to have reason to speculate about the nature of our relationship.”

“They might just think you have a new pleasure slave.” Obi-Wan smirked to himself as he pulled up the hood to conceal his face. Vader put his hands on Obi-Wan’s shoulder and pushed him firmly from the cell, causing him to trip slightly.

“I have no pleasure slaves.”

“Who was that woman, then?” Was he just imagining it, or did Obi-Wan’s voice sound a little too nonchalant?

“She is in my employ.”

“I’ll bet she is,” Obi-Wan murmured. Vader, of course, heard him. He had a strange suspicion that Obi-Wan had intended him to.

They entered the turbolift. The pair kept as much distance between them as possible, despite the natural inclination to stand next to each other.

It was strange, Vader mused, that just being in Obi-Wan’s presence again was messing with his head. He had almost been nice to the bastard...him, nice! And he had convinced himself that Obi-Wan did not matter to him! What a fool he was! Being around the elder man again was intoxicating, just as being around Padmé again had been years ago. This was worsened by the fact that he could feel Obi-Wan.

There was a quiet beeping sound as the turbolift arrived on the correct floor.

Vader pushed Obi-Wan out ahead of him, “Don’t even think about trying to escape.”

“Where would I go?”

“The garbage chute, hopefully.”

Two stormtroopers passed them and they fell silent. They remained that way until they reached Vader’s quarters. Deftly, he entered the security code and the door slid open. Vader would have preferred to have a normal door with a handle, as he did inside in quarters; he had always preferred them to the electronic doors. But it would’ve looked so strange next to the otherwise bland, industrial decoration of the Death Star.

“Go in,” Vader directed, gesturing politely. Obi-Wan inclined his head and stepped into the room, pausing just inside the threshold to look around.

“Pleasant,” the Jedi remarked.

“If I want you opinion, I shall ask for it.”

Obi-Wan walked away from him, trailing his hand along the back of the plush couch. Vader devoured his form with his eyes; the view from where he was standing was quite spectacular.

“Where’s the ‘fresher?” Obi-Wan asked, hugging himself.

“Oh…” –‘Eyes up!’- “…Through that door and to the left.”

“If I might…?”

Vader waved his hand in dismissal and Obi-Wan left the room. For a moment, Vader stood motionless, trying to collect his thoughts.

‘Don’t let him do this to you...You know who you are; you’re Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith. He is not your past, he’s Anakin’s. You’re not Anakin. Not anymore.’

He shook his head fiercely, before heading into his bed chamber. His robe had been thrown onto the bed. Vader frowned at the discarded item of clothing; Obi-Wan was notoriously neat. Why had he just thrown it?

‘You can’t expect him to be neat in the quarters of someone he knows will kill him in the near future.’ It wasn’t as if he was bothered that Obi-Wan didn’t care about him to be neat…

‘What the fuck am I thinking? A load of nonsense, that’s what! Being near him is affecting my ability to think logically.’

He pulled off his mask, not bothering to look at his reflection in the mirror. He never did; why should today be any different? He couldn’t stand to look at his face. The face that reminded him of the former life he had tried so hard to leave behind. Obi-Wan had seen his face, though.

The first person to do so in years.

If anyone were to see and recognise him as Anakin Skywalker- the hero of the Clone Wars- it would cause a lot of problems. Imperials would not trust him if they knew he had once been a Jedi, regardless of all he had done for the Empire.

He heard the shower being turned on and got undressed, purely because he needed something to distract him from the fact that Obi-Wan was in the next room, naked, dripping with wat-

‘Stop it!’ he berated himself, firmly pulling on his sleeping pants. He located a clean dark-blue shirt and put that on. By the time Obi-Wan came out of the ‘fresher, he was sat in a chair by his bed, drumming his fingers on the arm.

He looked up…and just stared. He was so stunned he could barely speak. Once he regained the ability to articulate, he cleared his throat, “You shaved…”

Obi-Wan shrugged, causing his wet hair to soak the material of his tunic, “I haven’t been clean-shaven for years…I suppose I just wanted a change.”

Vader nodded briskly, trying not to gaze at Obi-Wan too intently. He could see his face better now; he had forgotten what he looked like without a beard. The last time he had been clean-shaven was when he had been a teenager.

“I was wondering…” Obi-Wan began hesitantly and then paused.

“Wondering what?” Vader asked, narrowing his eyes.

“If I might sleep.“ He indicated the bed, “I haven’t slept in days and I just thought that if I’m going to be…I could use some sleep.”

Vader pondered his request, “…Very well.”

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan pulled back the covers and got into bed on the side furthest away from where Vader was sat. The black robe was still on the bed and fell off when Obi-Wan shifted his position.

His back was very tense, Vader noticed. Like it had been whenever they had an argument.

Perhaps this whole thing was like a big lovers’ tiff; a lovers’ tiff that had lasted over a decade.

Once Obi-Wan’s breath had evened out a bit- he wasn’t really asleep, Vader knew, but more relaxed- he stood and then got into the bed.

The bed was large and there was more than a foot between them, but when Vader lay down, Obi-Wan instantly moved further away.

Vader stared at the ceiling, the noises of some of generator meeting his ears due to the tense silence that had descended over the room.

He heard the sheets rustle beside him.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” He turned and found himself looking directly into Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“Sparing me. Not leaving me to the guards. Bringing me here when you could just as easily left me where I was,” the blue-green eyes sought an answer.

“You are the last of the Jedi, Kenobi. You have eluded me for a long time…You deserve some sort of recognition for surviving me as long as you have.”

There was a pause.

“It is better to have some dignity left, I suppose.” Obi-Wan turned away again and no more was said.

He soon fell asleep, but Vader could find no such rest. He was too aware of the presence of the man next to him.

He watched as Obi-Wan’s chest rose and fell as he inhaled and exhaled.

Carefully, he inched closer.

‘He would never know,’ he thought, ‘He would never know if I just…’

His hand hovered above Obi-Wan’s chest, ‘No one would ever know.’

He reasoned that by the next night, Obi-Wan would be dead. This was his last chance for closure and- begrudgingly- he admitted to himself that he needed closure. Or Obi-Wan would become an unhealthy and unwanted obsession.

He draped his arm across Obi-Wan’s torso and the other man gave a soft sigh, moving towards Vader.

He daren’t breathe. Obi-Wan was here in his arms; in reality, not in a dream.

‘Perfect,’ he thought drowsily, ‘He can be my perfection, just for one night. I’m still a Sith.…still feel darkness…But, just for one night, I can be imperfect.’

She guessed that Vader must already be asleep. Or waiting…her every nerve seemed to tingle with anticipation.

Vievene unzipped her jacket a little to expose the corset she was wearing underneath. Grinning, she slowly opened the door to the bedroom. The starlight entering the room through the large window bathed it in a dim silvery glow.

Her grin faded slightly as her eyes rested upon the bed.

There was an unfamiliar man there, with a very familiar arm draped across his chest.

She felt betrayed and the feeling surprised her; he was just a job. But really; a man!

She knew Vader went for both sexes, but to not tell her that he was expecting company, that was just rude!

Vievene stepped closer, moving as quietly as she could. She peered at the sleeping man’s face.

‘I do recognise him!’ she thought. Oh, this was rich!

It was the Kenobi; the Jedi! He had shaved off his beard and Vievene had to admit that he was irritatingly gorgeous.

What exactly was happening? She thought Vader hated the Jedi. Perhaps Vader had forced himself on him?

‘No…He looks too peaceful.’

Her irritation blossomed into anger; how dare Vader prefer to mess around with some Jedi when he had her!

“Well, I bet the Emperor would love to here about this…” she whispered. Ah, Vader would be punished; severely. And the Emperor would have her to thank for exposing this little scandal. She would forever have his gratitude.

She turned to leave-

and collided with a firm chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Vader’s voice was soft and could even be described as kindly.

Vievene looked up and gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. He wasn’t wearing his mask.

He was more attractive than she had imagined and younger, too.

“I-…”

“I’m afraid you shall we telling no one, Miss Deluxa. No one.”

“I promise. No one.” Vader was towering over her now, his handsome features becoming harsher.

“I’m not sure I can trust you, Vievene. Look how quickly you were prepared to betray me…after so long in my service.”

“But I-…” She could speak no more as, suddenly, she had difficulty breathing.

‘Oh Sith!’ She clutched at her throat, although she knew it would do no good. She had heard tells of people being choked by Vader, but she had never actually witnessed him commit the act.

She was becoming dizzy now and desperately she tried to gulp doen air, but to no avail.

“You could’ve died an Imperial, Vievene, had you learnt the value of loyalty,” Vader told her seriously, “But now, you die a whore.”

The pressure around her neck increased and spots appeared in his vision as it became increasingly blurry.

The last thing she saw before she died was his eyes. In the darkness of the room, they burned a bright blue.

‘Blue...?’ And then she was gone.

He despised traitors...Especially people who betrayed him personally.

He called over a passing stormtrooper, “Take this body and have it incinerated.”

“Yes, Lord Vader.” The stormtrooper dragged her away as if she were a sack of vegetables.

Vader could find no regret in him. Although…it would be annoying to have to find a new pleasure worker.

Maybe Obi-Wan would be willing?

He was momentarily amused by the idea of Obi-Wan wearing some sort of revealing, brightly-coloured outfit; the type of outfit Obi-Wan used to tut at when they went out on Coruscant.

He went back to his bedroom.

Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered on, “Wha…What?”

“Nothing.”

And, in his half-conscious state, Obi-Wan believed him. He even allowed
Vader to pull him close.

If only it was that way when he was awake.

But it was not to be.

Vader pressed a kiss to his forehead.

‘If only you had taken my hand, Obi-Wan…If only…’

He sat up, drawing his knees up to his chest. Vader was facing away from Obi-Wan, amazinglymotionless in his slumber.

‘Why do I recall your arms around me?’ he thought, tapping his fingers on the mattress.

It was probably just a dream; it hadn’t been a nightmare. No, it had felt nice, for lack of a better word.

He was disgusted with himself.

This Sith was a monster; he had killed thousands, including every one of Obi-Wan’s fellow Jedi. He was the reason Luke and Leia would never know that they were related and never know of their mother or father. The reason he had been exiled to Tatooine, a planet he would have preferred never to have thought about again, never mind live there. The reason he was going to die incredibly soon. That was if interpretation of Vader’s behaviour and the uneasy, nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach were correct.

‘Oh, Luke, I am so very sorry…I shall be leaving you alone in this galaxy. I fear you are the most danger, if Vader were to find out who you are…When Yoda feels my death, maybe he will seek you out. I know you are strong, but I do not know if you are strong enough to survive my death and Vader’s dark intentions if he goes after you. I am so very sorry…’

He wished that Luke could hear him. That young man was the person he trusted most in the galaxy and he would die for him without a thought. He could protect him better if he were alive, though…

A hand touched his shoulder and he started, whirling around.

Vader held his hands up in a non-threatening gesture.

“What?” Obi-Wan asked guardedly. Since yesterday morning, he had become unusually jumpy.

“You are awake,” Vader observed.

“Yes. I have heard it say that people waiting to executed awake early on the day of their execution.”

Vader stared at him, no emotion visible on his face, “I cannot say I have seen a person I intended to execute in the morning before.”

He got off the bed, “Excuse me.”

Vader disappeared into the ‘fresher.

‘You let him back into your life…Into your mind. He was always there, wasn’t he, though? Buried deep inside your soul.’

He gave a yell of rage and smashed his fist into the mirror.

“Fuck!” he cried. Why hadn’t he used his artificial hand? He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his bleeding knuckles.

He glanced up, taking in his reflection. The shattered glass had distorted his face, but he could clearly see his eyes.

One of the signs of the Dark Side; his devilish eyes. That reassured him that Obi-Wan hadn’t suddenly made him good.

So what if he didn’t particularly want to kill Obi-Wan? He still hated the Jedi, hated the Alliance, hated that blasted Bail Organa…He still hated everyone who wasn’t himself or his Master.

He exited the bathroom and found Obi-Wan in the same position he had left him in.

Obi-Wan glanced at the blood-stained towel around his hand and then turned away again.

“You can look at me,” Vader told him, irritated by Obi-Wan’s skittish actions.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Then don’t. But stop acting as if I’m going to pounce on you.”

“Well, what am I meant to think? After yesterday?”

“I did not…” Vader broke off, not sure what he had been about to say.

He crossed the room and sat down on the bed in front of Obi-Wan.

“How long until I die?” Obi-Wan asked, tracing patterns in the bed sheets with his finger.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” he replied honestly, “By the end of the day or the Emperor will want to see to you himself.”

“Wouldn’t you prefer that? For me to die in the most painful way possible?”

“Yesterday, I would have.”

Obi-Wan smiled sadly, “What’s so different about today?”

“You are the last of your kind. And my last connection the past…When you die, the last of Anakin Skywalker will die with you.”

“I thought he already had.”

“So did I,” Vader admitted, “But you have had more effect on me than I am willing to consider.”

Obi-Wan looked at him as he brushed a strange of hair away from Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“Are you ever sorry?” Obi-Wan asked as Vader moved closer.

“Not ever,” Vader replied. He pressed his lips to Obi-Wan’s, keeping his eyes open. For a long moment, Obi-Wan just stared back at him, his lips unmoving. After what seemed like an age to Vader, Obi-Wan’s eye closed and he put his hands on Vader’s shoulders, not pushing him away, but just leaning against him.

Vader slid his hands down Obi-Wan’s back, letting them rest on his waist. They sat like that for more than a minute, not deepening the kiss, just pressing against each other ever so slightly.

Vader pulled back as he tasted salty tears on his lips.

“I seem to be crying a lot lately,” Obi-Wan commented as Vader brushed them away.

“Hmm.” Vader bite his lip, “Obi-Wan, I-“

The room was plunged into darkness and the soft lighting was replaced by the harsh red flash of the emergency lighting. A siren went off and the words, ‘Alert! Level Three emergency! All personnel report to respective command stations!’ blared out over the com system.

“What the…” Vader summoned his comlink to his hand using the Force and put in the code to contact the bridge.

“Lord Vader! We were just about to contact you!”

“What in Stars’ name is going on?”

“Rebels are attacking, my Lord. About a hundred fighters. One of their shuttles has just landed in our hangar-“

“How the hell did it get through our defences!”

“We used the cannons, my Lord, but the pilot-“

“Kill the pilot! Storm the hangar! Get that shuttle the hell off of this battle station!”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“And deploy the TIE fighters.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“I’m on my way.” Vader switched of the comlink.

He turned to face Obi-Wan, barely restraining his temper, “This is why you surrendered to the Empire! So you could lead them here!”

“No. I did not intend to lead them here.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Vader roared. He made a sweeping gesture with his arm and all the objects on his desk went flying across the room, narrowly missing Obi-Wan. He seized the Jedi by the throat and held him off the ground.

“The Rebels cannot possibly hope to destroy this battle station…Why do it now?” he was speaking more to himself than the other man, but Obi-Wan replied.

“They…know….about….Alderaan….plan.”

“What?” Vader nearly dropped him in shock, “How could they? Only myself, the Emperor and the Admirals know about that. If anyone was leaking information, I’d know.”

“Not…leak…vision.”

“You had a vision?”

“No…”

“Who did? Your apprentice?”

Obi-Wan attempted to shake his head, which was a hard feat when someone had their hand clamped around his neck.

“No? Who?”

“They’re…dead…Rebels…not…here…to destroy…”

“Want their precious Jedi back, I suppose?” He let go of Obi-Wan.

Moving quickly, he pulled a robe on over his sleep clothes and put on his mask. He pulled up his hood and then grabbed Obi-Wan, who was massaging his abused throat.

“Well, I’m afraid there won’t be any rescues today.”

He steered a struggling Obi-Wan out of his quarters.

“Stop it!” he snarled as he was elbowed in the stomach.

The only response was a kick in the groin and he doubled over in pain. Obi-Wan sprinted around the corner, stumbling as the Death Star was rocked by a blast.

Vader gritted his teeth and ran after him; if Kenobi got away now…

He was sure they made quite a bewildering sight; Darth Vader chasing a barefoot man, dressed in nothing by a ripped tunic and sleep pants, along the corridors of the Death Star.

“Stop him!” he commanded a group of stormtroopers that had just come through a doorway at the other end of the corridor. They started firing their blasters at Obi-Wan, but even without access to the Force, Obi-Wan was a natural acrobat. He flipped backwards, dodging the first round. He went into a diving roll and then spun to the side, crouching in a small outcrop that looked over the hangar. Fortunately for Obi-Wan, this position protected him from the stormtroopers blaster bolts. The down side was the fact that he was now effectively trapped between Vader and the stormtroopers.

Obi-Wan didn’t seem too bothered, in fact, he was staring down at the hangar with something akin to shock on his face.

Taking advantage of this distraction, Vader swept up behind him and put his hand over Obi-Wan’s mouth.

“Mmmph!” Obi-Wan exclaimed.

“I don’t think they hear you, Obi-Wan,” Vader teased, his lips brushing the Jedi’s ear. He looked down to see what Obi-Wan had been staring at.

A young blonde man was single-handedly cutting down a whole squadron of stormtroopers with a lightsaber.

“Your apprentice?” Vader queried, not taking his eyes off of the youth.

He was talented, that much was clear and- he reached out with the Force-…powerful. Extremely, deliciously powerful and yet still so young. Where had Obi-Wan got this child from?

The last of the stormtroopers fell and the young man whipped out a blaster, firing at the control panels of two of the hangars exits. The doors slid down, cutting off more Imperial troops.

“You know what to do,” he heard the young man say, his voice echoing the now quiet, cavernous chamber.

“What about you?” one of the Rebel soldiers said.

“I sense…” Vader could see his frown, “I think I sense something.”

“You will go to the main power generator?”

“Yes…As soon as you are finished, get back here. Don’t wait for me.”

The Rebel soldier nodded and ran off his squad. The young man looked up suddenly, searching the walls of the hangar.

Vader pulled Obi-Wan back into the corridor out of sight.

“A talented one, Obi-Wan. It is indeed sad to have to destroy such a potential.. Or perhaps he could be seduced by the rewards of the Dark Side?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed and he bit down on Vader’s hand. He pulled his hand away, just as a group of Rebel soldiers burst through the door at the other end and engaged in battle with the stormtroopers.

Vader pulled Obi-Wan into a meeting room off of the corridor. He pushed him down into one of the chairs.

“You can wait here while I go find your apprentice. I will deal with you later.”

“You can’t!”

“I can and I shall.” Vader turned on his heal and made to leave the room.

“He’s your son!”

Vader froze and turned slowly back around.

Obi-Wan had his head in his hands.

“What did you say?” he asked, his voice deadly.

“He’s your son…His name is Luke.”

“My….My son?”

“Yes.”

“I have no son. You killed my son.”

“Killed…? Who told you that?”

“The Emperor. I know that the ‘Organa’ girl is one of the twins…but I know you killed the boy once you realised how powerful he was!” When the Emperor had told Vader that, he had turned the small sliver of love he had still held for Obi-Wan into a deep-rooted hatred. How could he have forgotten that hatred? How could he have kissed the man who murdered his child?

Obi-Wan shook his head frantically, his eyes wide, “I would never…Luke is your son. He is my apprentice…We lived on Tatooine.”

“Tatooine? How dare you-“

“How dare I what?”

Vader’s mouth hung open; what had he meant?

‘He says this boy- this Luke- is my son…But my Master told me he was dead. It would make sense though; the amount of power, the fact that he was Obi-Wan’s apprentice, his looks…Yes, he did look like I used to…Oh Force…’ Vader shut his mouth, swallowing.

It seemed very likely he had a son. A living son.

Had the Emperor lied to him? His hands curled into fists and anger flooded through his veins.

‘But why would he? He must have just been mistaken…’ He ignored the part of him that insisted that, obviously, the Emperor had done it to turn him against Obi-Wan and Padmé; what kind of woman would agree to have her own son killed?

But…so what? So what if Luke was his son? A Sith needed no family.

“It does not change a thing,” he told Obi-Wan firmly, “He shall die and then so shall you!”

He strode from the room, determinedly keeping his eyes forward and not looking back.

“Bastard!” Obi-Wan yelled just before the doors closed. The word was lost in the noises of the battle commencing just down the corridor. Vader deliberated on whether on not to go back and help the stormtroopers against the Rebels- after all, it would get the job done a lot quicker- but decided that, in the end, eliminating this young Jedi would be much more satisfying for him. Plus, the stormtroopers were more than able to handle a couple of Rebel scum by themselves.

Alotmore than able.

“Why couldn’t Imperials use foam flooring?” he said to himself, picking it up and ducking beneath another set of pipes. For anyone much taller than Luke, it would be very difficult getting to the generator, as the path to the centre of the room was overhung with pipes, walkways, wires, ventilation shafts and gigantic super-computer processors that Luke guessed regulated the distribution of the power the generator provided. He ducked under a walkway and broke into a grin.

“Gotcha!” he whispered triumphantly. The generator was suspended in the middle of a circular grate walkway. He peered over the edge of the walkway immediately decided not to do so again; if he fell off the walkway, it would be a very long trip down the ventilation shaft. He turned his gaze skywards as he walked towards the generator. The ventilation shaft went as far upwards as it did down.

With a low whistle, he walked around to the other side of the generator and pressed the button to activate the console.

‘Now to check this is the right generator…’ He touched the screen to access the information that detailed what systems the generator powered.

‘Lighting…Primary shielding…Ventilation…Result!’ He closed the console and crouched down to attach the first charge to base of the generator. The magnetic clamps on the edge of the device held it in place and with a push of a button, it was activated. He placed another two next to it and then reached into his bag for the final charge.

Luke looked up sharply as the noise of approaching footsteps met his ears. He tried to sense their Force-signature but found that they did not have one.

‘Or they’re shielding,’ he thought, closing his bag. He stood up, pressing his back to the generator.

“Young Jedi, you impress me,” Darth Vader’s voice declared. He had heard it enough times on the HoloNet to recognise it.

Luke did not respond. He scanned the room for an exit. He did not want to engage in a lightsaber duel with Vader. He knew he was good, but to win against Vader? He wasn’t that good. Truthfully, he doubted he would last much longer than a minute.

‘Confidence,’ a voice chided in his head. It sounded a lot like Obi-Wan, but that was probably because Obi-Wan had spoken the words to him.

“Confidence,” he had said, “A Jedi must have confidence in his or her own abilities, but never arrogance.’

“Has your Master not taught you it is rude to not reply when asked a question?” Vader said, sounding mock-offended.

“He taught me not to talk to strangers,” Luke answered, glad that his voice had not shook.

Vader laughed- a dark, humourless, ugly laugh- that caused Luke to gulp, “You have spirit, Skywalker; oh yes.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed in confusion, “How did you know my-“

“Name? Yes…Your name. Luke Skywalker, raised on Tatooine by former Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, the last of the Jedi. I know lots about you, Luke.”

Luke heard Vader come closer; he guessed he was on the bridge that led to the circular walkway by now.

“Your Father was a Jedi, wasn’t he? Anakin Skywalker. Your Mother…Did Obi-Wan tell you her name?”

“No,” Luke admitted, only replying to make Vader continue to talk and give himself some time to form an escape plan. His eyes darted around the room once more. He could get across the bridge nearest to him, but there was no certainty that there was an exit door at that side of the room…

“No, I don’t imagine he would,” Vader’s tone was inexplicably amused, “Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father, did he?”

Luke gave a bitter laugh, and then gritted his death. How dare Vader mention his Father!

“He told me enough,” he spat, “He told me you killed him!”

“No, Luke,” Vader said calmly, with an air of familiarity, “I am your father.”

For a long moment, Luke gaped, staring into the darkness. He could hear blood pounding in his ears and a fuzzy sort of background noise that seemed to come from his own mind. Once he regained brain function, he gave a harsh laugh, “Don’t be ridiculous…that’s not true…”

‘What if it is?’ He refused to consider the notion.

“No,” he repeated his denial, “No…That’s impossible! Obi-Wan would’ve told me!”

“Not if he wanted you on his side,” Vader was quick to say. Luke could sense him now, standing on the other side of the generator.

“Search your feelings,” Vader whispered, although his voice seemed entirely too loud to Luke’s ear; too loud to block out, however much he wanted to, “You know it to be true.”

‘No! It’s not true! He’s lying!’ his mind screamed. His heart, however, was hammering in his chest; it knew Vader’s words were true. Luke sensed no deception in Vader’s words, either. Still, he desperately tried to convince himself that this was some trick; some plot to turn him to the Dark Side.

‘Why would he bother? Why not to just kill me? Why try to turn me, unless…Unless I was his son.’

“Obi-Wan’s lied to you all your life, Luke. Does it not make sense; explain why some of the stories he told you did not add up? Join me, Luke…I can train to realise your real potential; access your true power. My Master is old and weakens by the day. If you trained under me in the ways of the Sith….Together we could rule the galaxy as father and son,” Vader’s tone was persuasive yet carried a hint of something that Luke would have described as ‘fatherly.’

His mind swam with the implications of Vader’s words, (What if he was telling the truth? What if Obi-Wan had lied to him? Why had Obi-Wan lied to him? What if his whole life had been a lie? Why didn’t he just join Vader?)and yet, he knew what he was, even if he wasn’t sure who he was anymore.

“Never,” he shouted, louder than necessary, “I am a Jedi.”

He heard Vader ignite his lightsaber, “Very well, Jedi.”

“Quick reactions, “ he commented, impressed. The boy would have been useful, if he had not been so foolish as to stick with the Jedi ideals when offered the ultimate power.

As he walked around the generator, Luke kept moving too. This was fast evolving into an irritating chase.

“Luke,” he called in a sing-song voice, “You can’t run forever.”

“I can try.”

“Ah,” Vader doubled-back, smirking beneath his mask when his red ‘saber clashed with Luke’s azure blade, “There is no try, only do. Is that not a Jedi teaching?”

They fought ferociously, but their sword-play was limited by the small walkway. Their technique was similar, as they had both been instructed by Obi-Wan, but Vader’s superior height, strength and experience, he knew, would soon pay-off.

He did not find a gap in the boy’s defence as soon as he expected; Luke was good, better than he -…no not he; Anakin Skywalker- had been at sixteen, for that- if he had calculated correctly- was Luke’s age.

The opportunity came when he struck towards Luke’s legs. Luke flipped backwards, the aerial movement perfect. Upon landing, however, he stumbled, misplacing his left foot. Before he could right himself, Vader slashed diagonally upwards, severing the lower half of Luke’s right forearm. The severed hand tumbled over the edge of the catwalk, and Vader watched it fall with a sick sort of satisfaction. He looked back to Luke, who, after giving a cry of pain, fell to his knees, clutching his stump of an arm to his chest. He was breathing heavily, gritting his teeth against the pain. Vader knew from experience that the shock kept most of the pain away at first, but later, it was an entirely different and agonising story. Vader summoned the boy’s fallen lightsaber to his hand.

He felt a strange and unwelcome stirring in his chest when he realised that the lightsaber was his own; the one he had made shortly before his knighting. The crystal had been changed, obviously and a better grip had been fitted, but apart from that it was the same.

He attached it to his belt.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” he said, cocking his head to one side. Luke glared up at him.

“It’ll hurt much more later; trust me.” Vader flexed his own gloved right hand and then looked back at the boy.

He put the red blade of his lightsaber barely an inch under his opponent’s chin. Luke barely blinked.

“You have one last chance, boy; join me, or die.”

“No. I’ll never join!” Luke yelled, tears of physical and emotional pain rolling down his cheeks, intermingled with perspiration.

“And so you shall die,” Vader declared, lifting his ‘saber in preparation to slice it back down.

To his surprise, Luke burst out laughing, “So shall you! So shall every fucking Imperial on this space station!”

“What?” Vader asked, not masking the confusion in his voice.

Using his left hand, Luke pulled a small rectangular device out of his pocket. There were two red buttons on the front and a small screen which read ’00:16:33.’

“Detonator, Vader,” Luke told him, his voice cool and frighteningly mature, “One of my own creation. Once the timer starts, it’s impossible to stop. Any attempt to tamper with it will cause immediate detonation of the seventy-eight plasma charges planted all over this technological terror!”

Vader stared at him, his hands curling into fists. He deactivated his lightsaber and, nearly shaking with sudden fury, grabbed Luke by the collar, “You shall die alone in this generator room, boy! A death caused by your own arrogance! You can die with the knowledge that I’m going to gut your dearest Master!”

“Obi-Wan…” Luke whispered, his eyes wide, “He’s alive.”

Vader let go of Luke, letting him fall roughly to the floor, “Not for much longer, I promise you that.”

“Rot in Sith hell!” Luke spat as he departed, his words choked with emotion, “Fucking rot!”

He finally arrived on the corridor. The fighting between the troopers and the Rebels had finished and the floor at the other end of the corridor was strewn with bodies. As the Death Star was pummelled with blasts once more, Vader was all but flung through the open door of the meeting room.

“Gone,” he said to himself, peering around the empty room in astonishment, "He's gone..."

Perhaps he could go after him; there was still the chance he could catch him-

‘No. He has escaped, but he cannot remain a fugitive forever.’

He gripped onto the back of a chair as the floor shook, ‘I need to get off this damn thing before it explodes…’

He left the room, quite annoyed to discover that the boy had singed his robe, causing a rather woeful billowing effect. Vader stepped over the bodies in the corridor doorway, automatically turning right to the staircase that led down to the hangar. He had a brief flash of concern for his Master but then dryly reminded himself that at the smallest threat, the Emperor would’ve left the Death Star. He also wondered what exactly he was meant do. He supposed he could go back to the Executor- he missed being aboard his flagship- and await the Emperor’s orders. His Master would not be happy that Obi-Wan had escaped and he would be absolutely livid that his new toy had been destroyed.

By the time Vader entered the hangar, the Death Star was no longer being assaulted by the fire from the Rebel ships. They had no doubt left so that they were not caught up in the blast.

‘How do you know there even is going to be one? The boy might’ve been lying!’

Vader paused to consider. He shook his head; what could he possibly gain from that? He’d never get off the station alive, even after Vader spared him. Besides, he had sensed no lie in the boy’s words and Vader prided himself on his abilities of uncovering deception.

There were stormtroopers running about the place like headless Jawas, Vader noted, with some detached amusement at the visual that simile created. He ignored all attempts by officers to inquire about their orders and walked towards his private shuttle.

He stared at the empty space where his shuttle should’ve been stood. Except it wasn’t.

‘Why does everything keep disappearing today! First Kenobi and now my fucking ship! My ship! It took me months to modify that thing!’

Who would’ve dared to steal his ship? Some cowardly, deserter of an officer, probably. Well, he’d like to see the moron try and fly it! The controls on his shuttle were complicated, even for a pilot as talented as Vader. He’d got rid of some of the guidance systems- the ones used for flying within the atmosphere of a planet- to make the ship lighter and therefore, faster. This meant that when landing the ship on a planet surface, he needed to use the Force to navigate. For somebody who had no connection to the Force, trying to land the shuttle would be veritable suicide!

Feeling slightly better knowing that the thief would likely die, he located his TIE fighter. Like his shuttle, it was modified, but it was still only a fighter; not meant for long-distance travel. It was cramped inside, particularly for someone as tall as he was.

He took off, the hangar walls streaming past. Seconds later, he was surrounded by the well-known enormity of space. He periodically glanced at his chrono, waiting for the moment the Death Star would explode.

‘The timer read round about sixteen minutes, so it should be any second-‘ he looked out of the port-side window of the cockpit, ‘-now.’

There was only the stillness of space one second, and then there next, there was an explosion so bright, it hurt Vader’s eyes. When he looked again, there was only debris, falling in a shower of what looked like a billion stars. Vader remained untouched by the deaths of those aboard the Death Star; he had long ago learnt to block out the echoes of death that reverberated in the Force.

‘Good riddance,’ he thought with a smug smile as he type coordinates into the fighter’s hyperdrive computer, ‘I never liked that piece of junk. Maybe I have something to thank that boy for, after all.’

In a sudden and short-lived flash of light, his ship entered hyperspace. As short as the flash had been, the destruction of the Death Star had taken less time.

The Empire’s ultimate weapon- a weapon that had taken more than a decade to be completed- brought down by a plan formulated by a boy of only sixteen standard years.

Vader had always appreciated irony.