Title: A Prisoner
Author: Ani’s Apologist
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Vader/Obi; Ani/Obi
Category: Angst galore!!
Summary: Obi Wan meets Vader again, and things are not as he expected….


It had been two years…..

I was living the existence of a hermit on Tatooine, and watching from a distance as Luke grew into an inquisitive toddler. I was trying to forget my former life, and my my former apprentice, Anakin Skywalker, now Darth Vader.

It was hard to forget though. Every time I heard about another one of his atrocities, I would fall into a bottomless pit of depression. There were days I could not even get out of bed, I was so racked with guilt and shame. On those days, I wished for death, and wished that I had the strength to kill myself. I had no will to live anymore, so when I was discovered by storm troopers at a café in Mos Eisley, I did not fight them. I went with them willingly. I was sure that when I faced Vader again, he would kill me, and I welcomed death.

But I had never really understood Anakin or his motivations, and I still did not.

I awoke with a start, completely disorientated. The effect of whatever drug the troopers had given me had not worn off totally, and I felt dizzy and heavy. It took me several moments to realise I was, in fact, laying down on a bed.

As I slowly became aware of my surroundings, I also realised I was chained to the bed—and naked.

To my horror, Darth Vader’s form came into my view. He was still wearing his leather clothing, but his helmet was removed, and he was leaning against the far wall of the room, panting and groaning as a young boy—maybe twenty years old??—sucked his cock.

Contrary to popular folklore, Anakin/Vader was not horribly scarred under that black helmet and leather. He wore it for effect, knowing that the disguise made him look like the monster he was inside.

I watched with a mixture of horror and compassion for the boy as Vader thrust into his mouth hard, causing him to gag, while holding the boy’s head firmly to his crotch with cruel leather hands. Vader’s eyes were closed, his hair damp with sweat—the two of the them had obviously been at it for a while now….

All at once, Vader seemed to sense my presence, and his eyes flew open and focused on me.

Gods, but he was still so beautiful! His face flushed with passion, his eyes glowing a bright blue…

“Hello, Obi Wan…” he managed to say between pants, “You’ve finally awoken, I see…do you like what you see…would you like the boy when I finish with him?”

His face twisted into an evil smile, and I forced myself to look away in disgust—but it was too late. What I had witnessed had already caused my body to react, and I was painfully hard.

I heard Vader orgasm, groaning deep in his throat, and then heard him literally push the boy out the door of the bedroom, telling him he was no longer needed. I closed my eyes against what I knew would be coming next.

Vader was beside me in an instant, looking down at me with contempt. His large hands traced almost gently down my torso, just avoiding my erection. I gasped at the sensation—whether in disgust or in pleasure, I was not sure.

He said nothing, but explored my nude form slowly, caressing me everywhere but where I needed most—a sweet torture. Finally, his hands rested on my shoulders, “Look at me,” he demanded.

I brought my eyes to his, and winced at the anger and pain I saw there, “What do you want, Vader?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent, but failing miserably. Even after five long years, I still could not bring myself to accept what had happened to him, what he had become. It made me sick. He had been my friend, my partner, my lover….now he was beyond evil, beyond cruel..he was a monster.And I knew I was at least partly to blame.

“Obi Wan—have you no fight left in you? I am surprised…my troopers told me you surrendered without a fight. ”

His tone was conversational, as if we were friends, not the sworn enemies we had become. I refused to answer, and he laughed aloud, “Oh, my old friend,” he smiled cruelly, “I know you expect me to kill you—want me too, even—but I am not going to do it. Even if you beg me too.”

I looked at him in shock, “You can’t let me live—your master would kill you if he knew you spared me!’

Vader studied me for a moment, and then shrugged, “You are so sure are you? You were always so sure of yourself, master—and always so wrong about me….”

“What are you going to do with me, then?” I asked quietly.

He looked at me for a long time, and we held eachother’s eyes. And then—so slowly I almost did not realise he was doing it—Vader inched closer to my face with his own, until his hot breath was on my lips, “Do you ever miss me at night—alone in that hovel of yours?” he whispered, and his voice sounded like silk, “Do you ever touch yourself, and imagine its me there with you?”

I looked at him as if he were insane, then turned my head away so that he could not kiss my lips, “No!”

“I do,” he admitted softly, bringing his mouth to my ear, “When I jerk off, I’m thinking about you, Obi Wan…”

I squirmed, trying to get away from him, even as he pressed a growing erection against my hip, and rocked against me gently.

Frustrated and angry at my refusal, he grabbed my cock and began to jerk me off roughly. It hurt, and I shouted loudly, trying to pull away, “You’re disgusting!” I spat at him, “Is this what you want—to rape me?”

He said nothing in return, just stared at me with his eyes blazing. I could tell by the flush of his cheeks and his heavy breathing that he was becoming aroused. Force, but he was still so beautiful—even after all these years. I closed my eyes against that thought. I could hear Vader making small mewing noises in his throat—the way he used too when we would make love all those years ago—and the sound was very erotic….

“Do you remember those nights that you came to me when I was a teenager, Obi Wan?” he asked, and I groaned with memory and shame…

He was seventeen, and gorgeous. He was maturing into a truly beautiful man. And he had needs…

I found him masturbating one night in his bed, and a spike of desire had coarsed through me—desire like I had never known. Without thought to consequence, I pulled back his sheets and, never breaking my gaze into his heavy lidded eyes, I sank into the bed and took him in my mouth. I sucked him gently as he arched and moaned in surprise and pleasure. And then he was coming in my mouth, and his nectar was so sweet, so warm and good, I knew I would need to drink it again very soon.

And so it was between us. I would pleasure him with my mouth most nights. There were no words—there was only silence and the sound of sucks and moans. When he would complete in my mouth, I would lay my face against his inner thiegh and kiss it gently, and tears would stream down my face-- Tears of guilt.

He would try to pleasure me in return. I would refuse at times, other times, I would allow it. He would take me in his hand and stroke me gently until I would come into his hand, hot and sticky.

At some point, we progressed to making love. He would cling to me when I took him, and I had a vague feeling that the sex meant much more to him then it did to me. Afterall, I was still in love with a dead man—Qui Gon Ginn. I knew that there would never be a replacement for him in my heart. And as much as Anakin tried to be everything I wanted him to be, I could not bring myself to give him what he deserved—my heart.

Sometimes, we made love, he would tell me he loved me. I never returned the sentiment. Truth be told, the idea of love frightened me. It even frightened me to love Qui Gon—but that love was safe because he was gone, and I could never act on it. But, in truth, everything about emotion frightened me. Jedi were not supposes to feel—but Anakin certainly felt. He felt every emotion so strongly. There were times when the emotions rolling off of him threatened to overwhelm me. I had no idea how to handle it, so I would pull away from him, distance myself. I knew, even at the time, that I was hurting him when I did this, but I could not stop myself. Anakin was frightening to me.

Sometimes he would look at me so sadly as we made love and say, “Please, master—tell me you love me…tell me you want this…I don’t wanna be just a fuck to you…” and my heart would break for him. I was incapable of saying it, even though I felt it—I don’t know why.

I would try to make some excuse, and he would simply pull away, hurt and bitter. It was the beginning of the end for him—its what ultimately led him to the dark side I know that now—too late. Anakin needed to be loved by me—and I failed him.

It was a dysfunctional relationship. It was damaging and wrong—so very wrong—but I didn’t know how to stop myself. Anakin would try to talk to me about it sometimes, but I could not bring myself to be honest about my own feelings with him..

Then, one night—not just any night, but the night of the anniversary of Qui Gon’s death, things changed.

That morning at breakfast, Anakin stared at his meal, unable to meet my eyes, “Will you be going to visit the grave today?” he asked quietly.

I just stared at him, surprised that he remembered, “Yes,” I replied, “I’ll go this morning….”

The anniversary was always a wretchedly hard day for me to get through. When I arrived back at our shared quarters that evening, I could not bring myself to visit Anakin’s room. I went straight to my room, and fell into a deep sleep—only to be awakened by a late night visitor.

Anakin arrived in my bed sometime in the middle of the night—he was naked and aroused. He brushed against me gently, and I opened my eyes, “Ani…” I breathed.

He looked at me with such need, “Please, Master…” he glanced down at his erection, and back at me.

“Not tonight, Anakin, please…” I groaned, turning away.

I felt him staring at my back for a long time, “You loved him, didn’t you?” he said at last.

“Yes…” I whispered, on the verge of tears.

“Can you ever love me like you did him?”

“I don’t know—I want too, but…I don’t know…I’m sorry…”

He whimpered, and then he left the bed.

We never touched again.

Suddenly, my mind drew me back to the present—Vader was before me, touching me. I should have been repulsed, but I was not.

“You don’t have to deny yourself any longer, my old master…” he was saying as he touched me, “I know you’ve always wanted this…give in to it…give in to me….”

I don’t know at what point the touch started to arouse me, instead of sicken me. I just know that I eventually opened my eyes and stared at him, and I was hard under his touch. He was staring back with compassion in his eyes, “Its been a long time for you, hasn’t it?’ he whispered, so close to me, I could feel his warm breath on my face.

I swallowed hard and nodded, tears spilling onto my face. His touch had turned incredibly gentle, and I heard myself whimpering softly with each stroke, “its o.k. Obi Wan, you don’t have to be ashamed of your need…let me give you what you want…”

I wanted to tell him no, that I didn’t want this—that he was evil, and I hated him, and that the only way he would ever have me again sexually was if he raped me—but the words would not come out of my mouth—perhaps because they were lies.

Abruptly, he took his hand away, and I whimpered at the loss of contact. He gentled me with a soft kiss, “Its o.k….” he murmured against my ear, and I was astounded that this could be the same Darth Vader I had grown to hate so much—the same sith lord who killed without remorse, and destroyed planets…his tenderness was as shocking as it was arousing. I looked at him, my eyes wide with confusion, and he smiled almost sadly, as if to explain away all the evil things he had done, as if to ask for my forgiveness. There were so many things I wanted to say, so many questions I longed to ask him—but I could not speak. I simply stared and felt tears spilling onto my face—tears that he kissed away.

He untied my arms and massaged the abused wrists softly. I groaned with relief, and went slack in his arms, exhausted and confused.

He stood up and looked down at me with a look of compassion and maybe even a bit of love.

“You want to touch yourself, don’t you, Obi Wan?” he asked.

I nodded helplessly, unable to meet his eyes because of my shame at my own desperate arousal.

I writhed on the bed, wanting so much to touch myself. He smiled slyly, purring like a wild cat, “Yes, touch yourself….I want to watch you…”

Whimpering in frustrated desire, and unable to stop myself, my hand slid down to my aching erection and I began to preform for the sith lord like some kind of prostitute.

I stroked myself and thrust my hips upwards, writhing on the bed and moaning in sexual need and desire. Vader watched me, his eyes growing ever darker with passion. I could hear him groaning in his throat. Distantly, I heard him say, “yes…preform for me…” and that was all it took. I came with a sharp cry and shot my load all over myself and his bed. It felt so good, and I screamed with the pleasure, continuing to writhe until I came down from my orgasm.

Vader was on top of me in a moment, licking the semen off my body hungrily. His tongue felt warm and soft and I relaxed under his gentle touch and licks.

He licked me clean, then stood back up, just staring down at my naked form in silence. I looked down and realised he was touching himself, his hands down the front of his black pants.

“Tell me what you want, Obi Wan…” he whispered seductively.

“Anakin…please I want to hear you moan for me…”

He began to make the most erotic noises I had ever heard, and then he groaned, reluctantly pulling his hand back out of his pants, “ I want to come inside you…”

His eyes never left me as he stripped naked. His body was still gorgeous, if a bit battle worn.

He lay on top of me and we kissed at last. His tongue sought entrance to my mouth and I allowed it. We moaned into each other’s mouths, tasting each other again after so many years—he still tasted as sweet as ever.

Abruptly, he pulled back and stood again, as if trying to regain some control , his breathing ragged, “Let’s make love…” he said seductively.

“Yes! Love me…please…” I whimpered, and he smiled and lowered himself onto me, lifting my legs which I then wrapped around his waist willingly. He positioned himself at my entrance, and we stared at each other for a moment, and then he was entering me, and my eyes fluttered closed at the intrusion, “No…” he said, “Look at me. I want to see your eyes as I take you…”

I did as he asked, and the honesty we shared at that moment made up for all the pain I had felt for years.

“Please…” I whispered and reached up to stroke his lips with my fingertips softly. His eyes were glazed with pleasure, and now he was buried to the hilt in me. I sighed and arched up against him, “Oh, Ani…” I groaned.

He began to move in me, and soon we were both covered in sweat as we moved as one. After so many years of hating him—or at least saying that I did—it was amazing to make love with him again.

Tears dripped from his eyes and onto my body as he thrust against me,”Oh,hhhh…” he was crying openly now, “I never thought I’d ever be with you like this again…in you like this…oh gods, you feel so good…”

The whole experience was surreal, unbelievable. I could feel myself becoming aroused again, and tried to fight it, but he read my thoughts.

“Shhhh…just…let it happen…” Vader whispered, “Let yourself go ..let go for me…”

I was lost to him, lost to the lust…He was making love to me, and it felt so good. He was so gentle with me, the strokes long and gloriously slow. I stared into his face and let him love me, and suddenly it didn’t matter that he was a sith—all that mattered was how he was making me feel. We moved in perfect unison together, our bodies entwined and joined.

I reached up again and stroked his beautiful face as he slid in and out of me. The silence that filled the room was broken only by the sounds of our pleasure. It was so erotic and hot, and I wanted it to last forever.

“You feel so good …” he moaned against my ear, “so hot…so tight…oh force, I’ve missed this…”

Then I heard him gasp and moan softly and I knew he was close. I groaned and let my head fall back, and he buried his lips in my neck, cursed softly, and came.

When I opened my eyes to look at him, his eyes were closed. He was trembling and gasping for breath. He looked beautiful and vunerable at the same time.

I whimpered softly in protest as he pulled out of me, and lay next to me, staring up at the ceiling. I looked at him, and he turned to face me, stroking my body, as I whimpered and thrust against him.

It was unbelievable and amazing, but I was here, laying in bed with Darth Vader—my sworn enemy—and we were touching and caressing and gentling each other with soft kisses. His hands trembled as they stroked my body, “Its been..so long…” he admitted sadly.

“yes…” I agreed.

He rolled onto his belly, and stared straight ahead, not meeting my gaze. He seemed suddenly very far away from me. I reached out tentatively, and stroked his muscular back gently, trying to bring him back to me, “What are you thinking, Anakin?” I whispered.

He turned to look at me with tears in his eyes, “I was just thinking how beautiful you are—still are…” he admitted softly.

I smiled, “No—you’re beautiful, Anakin—you were always…so beautiful…” I stroked his full lips with my thumb now, and he closed his eyes, enjoying the touch.

“I don’t feel beautiful, Obi Wan—I never did…”

“I know,” I replied regretfully, “The fault was mine, Ani. I never told you how much you meant to me until it was too late…I never realised how much you…hated yourself until….”

I let my voice trail off unable to finish my thought because it led me to a place that was too painful to recall.

Anakin stiffened next to me, “It was Qui Gon you wanted, not me…”

“I loved him, Anakin—that’s true…”

“Then why did you come to my bed! Was it just to use me? Was I just someone to fuck? I loved you!” he shouted at me now, his voice full of hate and accusation. I was momentarily afraid of him, afraid that he might hurt me or even kill me, but then I saw the pain in his eyes and I knew that all he really wanted was answers.

“I’m so sorry, Ani…” I managed to say, my voice shaking with emotion, “I did love you. I wish you could have known how much…I wish I could have been a better master for you—a better friend…then maybe this would not have happened…”

I wanted to hold him, to tell him that it could still be alright—that we could still somehow survive everything that had happened. I wanted to tell him to come with me—to run away with me back to Tatooine, or some other star system where we could forget any of this had ever happened, but he was pulling away from me, “I am not sorry for what happened,” he lied as he stood up, throwing a robe around himself, “My only regret is that I ever loved you.”

I closed my eyes against his words. I knew he was lying, but the words still hurt deeply. I sighed and lay on my back, watching him.

“You are soiled,” he said suddenly, getting up and heading for the frsher room, “Let me run you a bath.”

“Anakin, don’t…” I begged, “don’t pull away from me…not again…”

He wasn’t listening. I heard him turning on the water for the bath, so I dutifully followed him in there, standing awkwardly in the doorway as he readied the bath.

The bath was large and luxurious—like everything else in his apartment. It was marble and oval, and looked so inviting. I slid into the hot water and closed my eyes, savouring the feeling. Then, to my surprise, Vader got in as well,, in front of me, his back to me. There were no words, both of us afraid to speak.

Gathering courage, I reached for him, not sure what his reaction would be. He jerked away at first and gave me a startled look, then seemed to relax into my touch, “Oh, Anakin…I am so sorry I did this to you…” I whimpered against his ear. He began to cry softly in my arms.

I pulled him back against me, so his back was flush with my chest. He relaxed and leaned back, letting his head fall back on my shoulder, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Almost involuntarily, my hands found their way to his sex, and I began to stroke it softly without a word. I didn’t think he would be able to get hard again, but he responded almost immediately, growing erect in my hand.

There were no words, only the sound of the water splashing around us, and the sound of his harsh breath.

His head fell back, cradled on my shoulder. I whispered nonsense words into his ear as I stroked him, and he made keening noises in reply. He kissed my neck gently, his mouth open against my neck as he moaned.

He arched into my hand, hips writhing to meet my strokes. He came hard, biting his lip to keep from crying out too loudly. I made a sound like a wounded animal, and collapsed against his strong body, as he whispered soothing words into my ear.

He could feel my own renewed erection against his back, and then he was pulling himself up and out of the bath, laying sensuously back on the tiled floor around the tub, parting his legs in silent invitation.

I got out of the water as well and just stared down at him laying there.

His eyes pleaded with me silently, and I knew what he wanted. I moved to lay on top of him, but he protested, pulling away, “No…not like that….fuck me….hard. Make it hurt…”

He rolled onto his belly and offered himself to me. I didn’t want it this way—especially after he had been so tender with me. But I knew this is what he needed. It was cathartic, so I gave him what he needed. I slid against him, and sheathed myself inside his body, laying my face against the back of his neck, kissing and licking it as I moved inside him, my eyes closed, my arms around his waist.

I fucked him hard and fast, thrusting against him as he screamed , and gripped at the tiles in pain. My fingernails clawed down his back savagely, leaving a trail of red. His body bucked beneath me, and I distantly heard him begging for more. I pounded into him with all the anger and frustration and confusion I had felt towards him for so long, and he let me. He just lay there, beneath me, accepting the roughness, the hurt, the pain….There were no words, just grunts and gasps as I drove into him with all my strength and anger. And then I came, swearing and screaming, spilling hot inside his battered passage, and then collapsing against his back, still grunting like a wild animal.

Vader turned and enfolded me in his arms silently calming me. I cried against his chest, “Why, Anakin?” I moaned, miserably, “You were a good person…why?”

He said nothing in return, just held me silently, then slid back into the water with me in his arms.

We laid together in the bath until the water grew very cold. We said nothing, but both of us cried. At last, Vader stood and, wrapping a towel around himself, left the room for his bed chamber without a word. I followed silently.

I got into the large bed, and he pulled me against him, naked, in the bed. He slung a strong arm over my shoulders. His touch was not tender, but comforting nonetheless.

“Sleep now,” he commanded.

I had always imagined that if I ever had the chance, I would kill Darth Vader.

Certainly, I had always believed that if I ever came upon him, and he was sleeping and unarmed, I would surely slice him in two with my light saber and feel no regret.

And yet…here he was, asleep in my arms and completely vunerable, and I could not lift a finger against him. I watched him sleep with a mixture of sadness, regret and self-contempt. Extracting myself from our embrace, I absentmindedly stroked his chest and then his face, staring at him and just trying to figure out what had gone so terribly wrong….

Finding no answers, I leaned my forehead to his and begged forgiveness.

Morning came, and Vader’s intercom blared, “Lord Vader?”

“Yeah…” he mumbled, sleepily.

“This is your wake up call, sir.”

“Thank you….please bring two breakfast trays this morning….I have company…”

“yes, my Lord.”

Vader rolled over and just looked at me. I had hardly slept, crying most of the night, and was sitting up next to him in the bed. He just stared at me, and I avoided the gaze. Neither of us knew what to say to each other. Without a word, he got up and went to the fresher. I heard the water flowing.

When he emerged, he was dripping wet and wrapped in a towel. He looked gorgeous, and I couldn’t help but admire his body.

“What happens now?” I asked in a small voice.

Vader dropped the towel, exposing his erection and advanced on me, laying next to me on the bed, naked and aroused and beautiful, “Now we make love again…” he said simply.

And we did.

I whimpered gently into his palm as he placed it against my cheek, and closed the distance between us, kissing me on the lips. Taking my right hand, he led it to his erection.

“Touch me…” he begged.

I began to stroke it slowly, and he gasped at the touch, pulling out of the kiss and looking down, just watching me touch him.

I gasped as he lay on top of me, gripped his shoulders as he kissed me deeply. I sighed and closed my eyes as he slid down my body, kissing me until he reached my sex. Laying his head against my leg, he looked up at me as if asking for permission, “You want this?” he asked huskily.

I looked down at him, and nodded tightly, “please…”

He took me in his mouth then, and it felt incredible. So soft and warm and inviting. I whimpered like a small animal and arched up into his mouth, needing it more than I had ever imagined I would.

My breathing became shaky and I realised I was crying. My hands found his hair, and I gripped and pulled, guiding his mouth on me gently, as I stared up at the ceiling, my vision blurred by my tears. I tossed my head from side to side in pleasure as well as anguish, groaning and begging incoherently.

When I came, it was not with an explosion of passion, but with a soft cry of pleasure and a final gentle thrust into his willing mouth. I filled his mouth with my essence and he swallowed me, then kissed his way back up my trembling body slowly, before stopping to stare into my tear stained face, “Why are you crying?” he asked gently.

I shook my head slightly, “I don’t know…because…everything…I …”

He licked my tears way with his warm tongue, and kissed me, and I tasted myself in his mouth.

I spread my legs for him, wanting him to fuck me, needing it. I felt him smile against my lips as he brought his cock to my willing entrance, knowing what I needed.

He didn’t break the kiss as he slid inside, and we were joined before I even knew it.

I moaned into his mouth instinctively, and arched up against him desperately. He broke the kiss then, turning his head away, “ohhhh….” He groaned, sliding his arms around me and pulling against him, and we began to rock together, as he gently bit my shoulder and licked my neck and earlobe, moaning my name over and over again like a mantra in my ear.

Again, his gentleness shocked me. The sex was so slow and tender, I thought I would go mad from the pleasure of it. I knew I should not be doing this—and certainly should not be enjoying it. But I could not help it, and did not want to help it. I clung to him, pleading with him to give me more, to do it harder, to come inside me. The coarseness of my language shocked me. It had been years since those words had fallen from my lips. But the words seemed to arouse him further. Something seemed to break inside of him, and he thrust harder now, moaning loudly as he found his release. As he came inside of me, he moaned quietly against my ear and whispered, “I love you…”

We lay together for a long time, with him still buried inside of me, kissing and gasping and just feeling each other, our fingers interlaced as we held each other’s hands.

“I could stay like this all day…” he whispered in my ear, “Just like this…inside you, making love to you, holding you…”

And then he said it again, “I love you…if only it could have been like this before…”

He stopped himself then, as if he had said too much. Despair descended upon me, and took me in a grip like a vice. I let out a wailing sob, and clung to him desperately, wordlessly begging forgiveness for turning him away from my bed-- and from me—all those years ago. “Please…” was all I could manage to say.

He covered my lips with his own, and we kissed deeply. I sobbed into his mouth, my face drenched with tears.

“You were all I ever wanted.” He admitted softly, his open mouth against my neck.

His voice sounded so sad, and I felt as if my heart was going to break I caressed his lips with my fingertips, , “Anakin…” I whispered, “Oh my Anakin…”

He closed his eyes, and just enjoyed the touch. I had always loved caressing him. His skin was smooth and soft and he seemed to revel in it—even now, after all these years. He made soft noises in his throat as I touched him more intimately now—his chest, his flat, muscular stomach, down lower to his flaccid sex. When I touched his balls, he arched up against me involuntarily, sighing in pleasure. He was becoming aroused again, and I was happy because I wanted to have sex with him again. Wanted to suck his cock, and I wanted to drink his come, but he pulled my hand away suddenly, “No…” he managed to say, and got up off the bed, throwing a robe over his nude form.

“But…Ani…” I protested, confused.

“No more, Obi Wan….I…can’t…We need to eat—the breakfast trays should be outside the door,” he said, getting out of the bed.

“Did you mean it?” I asked, distractedly.

“What?”

“When you said you loved me…did you mean it?”

Vader turned back to look at me. I could not read him, his expression was completely blank, then, “ We will eat, and then… you will escape. I will pretend that I am looking for you, and tell the emperor that I won’t rest until I find you—and you will be free…”

He brought the breakfast trays to the bed, and we eat in awkward silence. I had no idea what to say—I didn’t know what to do. Part of me wanted to stay with him forever—but that was impossible. Part of me wanted to ask him to come with me, but I knew he would never agree. Part of me still wanted him to kill me because I didn’t think I could go back to life alone in the desert after what we had just shared together. So many thoughts ran through my head as we ate our meal, but I was unable to articulate any of them into words. I struggled to eat as I began to cry.

“Don’t cry, Obi Wan,” he whispered, refusing to look at me, “Please…don’t cry…”

“I love you, Anakin….”

“That’s not my name—not anymore. Don’t call me that.”

“It’s the name of your true self—the name of the man who made love to me last night and this morning….my lover, my love…”

“I wasn’t making love to you, Obi Wan, “ he replied coldly.

“What were you doing then?”

“I was fucking.” He said bluntly, “You were just a body to me—just another prisoner who became my whore for a night. I do it all the time…”

I narrowed my eyes at him. Again, the lies—I always knew when he was lying. “No…” I said, refusing to accept the lies, “Please, don’t….don’t shut me out again…”

Abruptly, Vader stood and dressed. Then he threw my clothes at me, “Dress yourself. I will leave now. I will sound the alarm that you have escaped in ten minutes time, that should give you enough time to make it to an escape pod.”

I dressed hurriedly, before he could change his mind. Vader paused and came over to me as I dressed, tenderly stroking my cheek for a moment. He said nothing, but the tenderness of his touch told me all I needed to know. His eyes were moist with tears. His head leaned towards me and we kissed. It was a chaste kiss, not at all passionate—but full of emotion and feeling. I whimpered as he pulled away.

“Anakin…” I sighed.

Then Anakin--Darth Vader-- put on his helmet—his disguise—and disappeared out the door of his quarters.

For several moments, I stood, unable to move or even think clearly. I let out a miserable moan of regret and pain.

Then I ran. Then I escaped.

But I never really escaped.

The world that I had created was a hell of my own doing. Anakin was Vader because I had hurt him, turned him away when all he wanted was to be my lover and my love—so I would always be a prisoner of my own past.


END



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