Chapter Text
Mustering what remained of his fury, the Sith Lord reached through the Force to shatter the viewscreen. The recording vanished, never to be seen again — if he remained wise. Freed of its intoxicating and deadly spell, he returned his focus to the present and to his true objectives — restoring his family and ascending to his rightful place as galactic ruler.
Padme was already his. All he needed was his children, but he did not know where to search for them. There were billions of star systems in which the Rebels could have regrouped. Perhaps the prisoners his forces had captured on Hoth could be of use.
Among them was the Changeling known only as Tasha. His troops had tried in vain to coax information out of her, but his unique method of persuasion might serve better.
With newfound strength, he rose to his feet and ordered his personal A-LT Utility Droid to dispose of the broken screen fragments. He bid Padme farewell as he left his quarters, receiving only a brief nod in response. He would punish her feigned disinterest later.
He strode along the corridors toward the turbo-lift that would bring him to the detention centre, enjoying the subtle tremors his mere breath inspired in his subordinates. Perhaps this body was not a curse. Aside from its vulnerability to electricity, it was better protected than his old one had been. He could not use it for pleasurable purposes, but neither could anyone else. He would not be humiliated, violated or abused ever again.
When he entered the cell he had been seeking, a surprising sight greeted him. A prisoner dressed in a white uniform bearing the Rebel insignia stood upright with his back to him and his chin raised. His form was familiar... too familiar. "Hello there," he said. His golden hair bounced slightly as he turned his head and smiled coyly.
It was him! But no … it was not possible. Or was it? He had struck Obi-Wan down three years ago in an act of pure hate, yet the Jedi, as slow and weak as he'd been, had vanished without a trace. The Sith Lord only classed enemies as dead once until their lifeless bodies lay before him. His master had taught him that.
Had the Jedi escaped his blade using a hitherto unseen power? If so, he would now appear as the withered husk he had encountered on the Death Star. But the Obi-Wan before him was as youthful as the one in the earliest recordings. Had the Sith Lord somehow been transported backwards in time?
No, this being was not Obi-Wan. Whatever it was could replicate his appearance and mannerisms, but not his Force signature. He should have expected this. "You do not deceive me, Tasha," he said, with a coldness that concealed his momentary confusion.
The Changeling had not even clothed herself correctly. Obi-Wan had never been accepted into the Rebellion. His reputation was too damaged for an organisation that sought to justify their crimes to the galactic public. The Jedi had lived and died in his flowing robes, removing them only to hide from the Empire or to … no, the Sith Lord would not indulge those memories.
He focused his optical sensors on the Changeling. Despite refusing to confront her the night he learned of the filthy rumour, Anakin had encountered Tasha years later and discovered she was not responsible for it. The Sith Lord would soon duel its true originator, defeat him and inherit his Empire. But first he needed his questions answered and to pose them to an imitiation of Obi-Wan would be ... distracting. "Assume your original form or risk losing my patience."
"Relax, I've had my fun," said Tasha, as she begrudgingly obeyed him. Her real face had wrinkled and paled since their last meeting. No wonder she preferred not to show it. "Happy now, Anakin?" That cursed name! How did she know it? "You like looking at this old …"
The Sith Lord clenched his fist. Her words ceased, her mouth gaped open and her eyes glazed, but instead of gagging or clutching her throat she stayed silent and mostly still. He tightened his grip.
"You ... think you can ... hurt me," she said. "I've had ... males do this to me ... hundreds of times. They use ... something other than Force, but ... your way hurts less." She had meant to taunt him, but it was relief to learn he was not the most brutal being in the galaxy, even if that was due solely to a biological limitation. He was right to rid the galaxy of the Rebel scum, who undoubtedly subjected her to the perversions she alluded to.
He released the Changeling before her consciousness slipped away. He could not yet take her life. According to her comrades' accounts, she was not a high-ranking member of the Rebellion, but given her … intimacy … with its leadership, she likely carried useful secrets. The sooner he extracted them from her the sooner he would free of her irksome presence.
The Sith Lord dwelled on his anger toward her, using it to remind himself who he who was. "Do not speak that name again, if you wish to live," he said.
"You don't scare me," said Tasha, her voice as steady as if nothing had been done to her. "Your Emperor won't let you kill me cos of all the intel I'm supposed to have and if you got it out of me, I'd be dead no matter what I called you. So, I might as well say the truth."
"The truth as you see it," said the Sith Lord, echoing a sentiment Obi-Wan had once espoused. The thought made him squirm.
"You can't deny it. Your husband came to me the night you first appeared on the Holonet in your shiny mechanical suit. He cried and screamed and begged me to turned into you — the old you. Didn't say what happened, but I was clever enough to put the pieces together and not tell nobody I had. I doubt I'm the only one. You can't kill all of us."
The Sith Lord would deal with that difficulty later. Her words had brought a new concern to mind. "You serviced Obi-Wan?" The Jedi must have lied about preferring Anakin's natural body to the Changeling's version of it or else acted out of desperation. Either way, it had not taken him long to betray the promise he had made in the Jedi temple gardens — to be faithful to his former Padawan for as long as he lived. Why had he ever trusted that man?
Tasha sniggered. "That's all you care about? It's none of your business, seeing as dumped him." That was irrelevant. Her depravity was the Empire's concern, regardless of whether Obi-Wan was involved in it. "But if it makes you feel better, we didn't do nothing. He was a wreck. He'd have given me anything, but I couldn't strip a grief-stricken man of everything he owned." Everything Anakin should and would have owned had he not been so foolishly generous. "So, I took the night off to comfort him — for free, I might add."
"How gracious of you," said the Sith Lord, unable to convey his irony through the vocabulator. He paced across the cell as he considered the Changeling's story. So, Obi-Wan had failed to break his promise after all. Pathetic. He might not have even managed it with Padme. Had she, like the Changeling, stayed with him out of pity? If so, the Sith Lord would assure her he deserved no such compassion, only a life of destitution and misery.
It would have been fitting for Obi-Wan to spend the rest of his short life shrieking with agony at having lost his dear husband. Better still, if he had spent it on his knees begging him to return, to hold him, kiss him and make love to him, as they had before the galaxy and its prejudices tore them apart.
It was an appealing image — too appealing. It made the Sith Lord long to inhabit the body Anakin had surrendered and — worse still — use to do whatever the imaginary version of Obi-Wan asked of him. How could he have given that up? Why had he imprisoned his flesh when his husband — with his strength and skill — was more than capable of protecting him? Not to mention his own powers.
Tasha sniggered. "You're being awfully quiet, Anakin."
The names did not sting as harshly this time. He was too immersed in thoughts of the past to concern himself with controlling her words. He could destroy every viewscreen in the galaxy and it would not save him from his memories.
"Lost in a fantasy, I take it?" said Tasha. "Don't worry. I won't judge you. That's how I coped too. Couldn't stay like that though. You always get woken up by some male who think he owns you." Footsteps echoed from beyond the cell door, prompting the Changeling to giggle idiotically. "And there he is now — or someone representing him. I bet your Emperor's not happy with how you've been spending your time."
That was plausible. The Sith Lord had been absent from the bridge for three hours. The crew, desperate for guidance, may have reported his disappearance to the only being that still posed a threat to him. He straightened himself, strode out of the cell and let the door slide shut behind him, displaying none of the terror that coursed through him.
Admiral Piet was waiting for him in the main corridor of the detention centre. "Lord Vader," he said, stiffly. "I'm relieved to have found you. The Emperor was becoming concerned. He wishes to speak with you regarding a … sensitive … matter."
So, the Changeling had been right. The Sith Lord was grateful he did not have to endure her infuriating smirk. "Inform the Emperor that I've been interrogating the captured Rebels," he said, though Tasha's trick had diverted him from this purpose. "I'll contact him from the holoprojection chamber shortly." In his peripheral vision, he had spotted a stormtrooper turning a corner a little too briskly and felt inclined to pursue him.
Piet shook his head. "He has requested the meeting take place in the Imperial Palace."
The Sith Lord shivered beneath his armour. There was only one reason for his master to insist on seeing him in person. Nothing good could come of this.
"He worries you've become distracted," Piet continued. "The men guarding your quarters revealed that you'd secluded yourself there for some time." He tilted his head curiously, as if expecting an explanation. He would receive none.
"Very well then, Admiral, set a course for Coruscant."
The Sith Lord would not risk worsening the Emperor's wrath. Without either of his children to aid him, he could not defeat his master. He thus had no choice but to accept whatever cruel punishment he intended for him, though it would change nothing. The vilest of tortures could not vanquish his longing for Obi-Wan. He would always love him. But he had realised that too late — far too late — and now, he would suffer forever.