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Vader flicked a few levers and pressed a few buttons to take his private ship out of hyperspace, the bright white streaks of stars flattening out into a particular configuration Vader had never seen before and didn’t care if he saw again.
The only thing he cared about was finding Obi-Wan Kenobi.
A Mid Rim planet that wasn’t notable for anything slowly turned on its axis below his ship, millions of lives only barely touched by the war at his feet, and in a very real way at his mercy—as was his informant if the intel turned out to be bad. It had been two months since one of the highest-ranked generals of the GAR had vanished as if into thin air and the Holonet had exploded with rumors as to what could have happened to the handsome Jedi, but people didn’t merely disappear. There were always trails to follow, genuine sightings amidst the worthless bantha shit of speculation, whispers in the network that Vader carefully curated outside of the more official channels his Master lent him.
Thinking of his Master put a scowl on Vader’s face as he put in an application for a landing platform—he was meant to be on Onderon now with a fresh battalion of droids, and Sidious would be extremely displeased with his temporary leave of absence. But what could Sidious do to him, other than the varied buffet of punishments Vader had already suffered through the years? It wasn’t as if he could replace Vader with the old man from Serenno; the difference in their raw potential was too great and Sidious had told Vader that himself.
Finding Obi-Wan Kenobi was worth electrocution or whatever else.
Landing was a breeze for one of the galaxy’s greatest pilots, which allowed Vader to ruminate and fix his mind on his target. His mind turned over the russet-haired omega, one of their recent altercations which had resulted in not just one but two starcruisers exploding because no one had been at the controls. They’d been stuck in the same escape pod for hours before landing on a nearby planet and Kenobi escaping from his grasp again. He thought of the last time they had been together and how Obi-Wan had scurried off into the night, disappearing practically without a trace. It was a habit of his.
Obi-Wan Kenobi would not evade him again today. Vader would see to that.
The hiss of Vader’s gangplank was accompanied by the regular intake of his respirator—except, this one didn’t truly feel like his; the cycling was different and thus it sounded odd to his ears. He didn’t strictly need it on this planet—the air was clean enough to breathe, which was probably why Kenobi had chosen this particular no-name place—but it was better to be safe about it. Few knew what Darth Vader’s face looked like, and that was for the best.
For this particular unsanctioned, implicitly-forbidden hunt, Vader didn’t even want to be recognized as himself, so he’d chosen a suit with a different cut from his typical one. He was still dressed all in black, dark and intimidating, but he appeared as nothing more than a more-successful-than-average bounty hunter. He cut a grim figure as he stepped down onto the temperate planet’s surface, with locals giving him a wide berth as he walked into one of only a few urban centers on the planet.
If the Jedi general was here, Vader would find him quickly, he was sure.
There was a cacophony of scents around him as Vader walked through the market, and for all the time he spent around droids which smelled of nothing but metal and oil, Vader didn’t find the chaos of unsuppressed alpha, beta, and omega odors overwhelming. His physical senses weren’t what he was relying on, anyway, probing through the Force instead to see if there were any Force sensitives here. Or rather, if there was a Force sensitive here, one whose signature he’d brushed up against time and time again.
He hid his own signature as well as he could, of course. A few of his Master’s lessons had been useful to him; he didn’t want to give himself up before finding what he searched for.
Vader moved through the market with a great amount of purpose, knowing that on a backwater planet like this most people came to this hub every single day to purchase fresh foods before they rotted in nearly ancient storages, haggling for that which would give them sustenance. A few intrepid salesmen had the gall to try to get him to buy whatever greasy street food they were hawking, but he ignored them entirely.
Vader stopped, suddenly, when there was a tug at the edge of his consciousness, that sixth sense of his. The crowd continued to move around him, and someone wrapped in a heavy brown cloak bumped against him, not even bothering to apologize before scurrying off. Vader turned; normally he would have been furious at the disrespect, the disrespect which he had sworn to himself he would never tolerate again from riffraff that Sidious told him over and over didn’t matter one whit. But that scent… it was different, but…
Vader’s pupils dilated inside his helmet. How careless—or cheeky. One could never tell with Obi-Wan Kenobi.
There was the faintest pulse of a Force signature, peeking out almost shyly from layers upon layers of durasteel mental shields, further confirming Vader’s initial suspicions. He pivoted on a dime, then began stalking his way along the same path that soft leather boots had mere moments earlier. Obi-Wan wasn’t moving particularly fast, so perhaps despite all logic he hadn’t actually sensed Vader—and Vader stayed no more than ten paces behind the omega as they left the crowded marketplace and then the multilevel buildings flattened to single-level homes before petering out into grasslands as far as the eye could see with only oxcart trails running through them, made of materials so primitive they couldn’t even hover above the ground.
Suddenly, in the middle of one of these trails, Obi-Wan stopped.
“Hello there,” that crisp Coruscanti accent let out. “That’s quite far enough, Lord Vader.”
Vader’s hackles rose at being ordered around so, but he did as the cloak-swamped omega asked. He stopped about eight paces from Obi-Wan, and folded his arms in front of his chest. He didn’t ask how Obi-Wan had known it was him—it would have been stupid. As Vader knew Obi-Wan’s scent, so did Obi-Wan know Vader’s, and he had the extra benefit of Vader never having used suppressants in his life.
“What critical misstep got you assigned to this backwater hovel?” Vader teased, then snorted. “You’ve been gone so long, you must’ve done something really bad.”
Instead of sniping back with some bantha crap about how critical all work done for the Republic was or how no mission was too small, Obi-Wan flinched enough that Vader could see it even through his cloak. Vader blinked in response, a little surprised that the ever-famous Negotiator had no comeback for such a soft pitch. He took a step forward, forgetting himself as he smelled just a few tendrils of distress in Obi-Wan’s soft omega scent.
“Obi-Wan—”
“Do not take another step,” Obi-Wan reiterated, turning halfway to look at Vader. “And the Order and I have parted ways. I am no longer their responsibility.”
Vader felt a double shock run through him: first at the thought that Obi-Wan Kenobi, the quintessential Jedi, was no longer a part of the Order, but second at the sight of him. Those blue-gray eyes were as subtle and beautiful as he remembered, but there were dark circles underneath them, and his beard was bedraggled and patchy. There was a deep-set weariness to his expression, making him look older than his thirty-eight years. He looked… haggard. Like he hadn’t slept properly in a while, like he hadn’t eaten properly in longer.
There was a not-insignificant part of Vader that wanted to drag Obi-Wan to the nearest food stall and give him whatever he could find, but he knew if he tried Obi-Wan would refuse adamantly. The Negotiator typically had to be talked into doing things himself or he wouldn’t do them.
“Why?”
It was the only thing he could ask. Why was Obi-Wan in such dire straits? Had he finally had such a firm philosophical break with the Jedi Order that he couldn’t tolerate those pompous asses any longer? What had brought him to this point, scurrying about like a desert mouse and trying so hard to avoid detection that even Vader had struggled to find him?
Vader wavered when he saw whatever passed for pride break on Obi-Wan Kenobi’s face as he turned fully around and allowed Vader to see the front of him. He no longer wore his Jedi robes nor his armor, but he had swathed himself in very modest robes anyway, probably multiple layers since despite his slight gauntness the omega appeared a bit larger around the middle than when Vader had seen him last. He lowered his hood, and Vader took it as something like a peace treaty.
“I was expelled—” the way Obi-Wan’s ever-steady, usually sarcastic voice wavered broke a piece off of Vader’s heart—“for reasons I’m certain you can imagine.”
Vader was about to snark back that he had asked because he wasn’t smart enough to figure it out on his own, but then something clicked inside of him. The slightly ill-fitting robes, how soft and almost… milky Obi-Wan’s scent was now, the exhausted determination, the way Obi-Wan couldn’t seem to fully shield his signature—because there was something else that wasn’t him.
“You’re pregnant?” Vader felt like he couldn’t breathe. He needed to take his helmet off, to get some air that wasn’t filtered in precise amounts through his respirator. “Whose is it?”
For a moment, thinking of some shadowy alpha—or even just any of the other darksiders that Obi-Wan still regularly flirted with—having knocked up Obi-Wan Kenobi had Vader’s lips curling in displeasure, baring his teeth. A flare of anger shot through him, cold and clinging to him like frost.
“Whose else could it be?” Obi-Wan finally, finally snarked back at him. “Do I look like I have enough time to be running around with several Sith alphas?”
The ice that seemed to coat Vader’s skin melted in a flash. “The baby is mine?”
“That does tend to happen when alphas and omegas kriff each other regularly without using protection, yes.” Obi-Wan sniffed. It seemed less snooty than Vader would have attributed to the action just six months ago. “Or in my case, if suppressants fail.”
“You didn’t—you didn’t tell me,” Vader stammered, his vocoder smoothing everything into an expressionless mush. His heart felt like mush—he had a baby on the way. “Why didn’t you—”
“Oh, I’ve been too busy being expelled from my Order and running from your comrades who don’t care if I’ve technically been discharged from the GAR or not. Of which there are many, as you probably could have surmised. My apologies.”
Frustration welled up inside Vader like fluid in a blister. It felt like they’d taken a million steps backward, their careful dance of intimacy all undone when they should be even closer through this, codes and creeds and affiliations all be damned. Obi-Wan was throwing words at him to truly cut instead of to coyly jab.
“Come with me,” Vader pled, though of course it was smoothed over into nothingness. “I can—”
Protect you. Care for you. Help you. Hold you.
But nothing came out of his mouth before Obi-Wan interrupted.
“If you think for a single second that I will allow myself and this child to be taken into the custody of a Sith,” Obi-Wan said, voice shockingly calm as he ignited his ‘saber, “you are sorely mistaken.”
He raised his ‘saber into the opening stance of Soresu, and used his other hand to taunt with his fingers. Vader had seen this stance a hundred other times in very similar circumstances as they met over and over in this stupid, practically pointless war, but never had seeing it cut him so deep as it did now. Vader’s chest was cored out in a moment, anger and sorrow fighting in the space where his heart was for a few moments before both being devoured by sheer desperation—his omega was rejecting him and he couldn’t handle it.
Vader found himself on his knees, ‘saber undrawn, one hand pressed up against his own chest plate because it hurt so kriffing much. His mechno-hand hitched up under the lip of his helmet, finally hitting the button that would allow the sides to release with a soft pneumonic hiss. Vader gulped down the natural air, and Obi-Wan’s scent was so much stronger—his fear and distress were extremely apparent.
Vader’s helmet hit the ground, the black durasteel and slate gray eyes rolling to stare up at Obi-Wan the same way Vader himself was.
“Obi-Wan please, it’s not like that. I wouldn’t—I would do anything for you. For our child. Just allow me to.”
If he thought Obi-Wan would tolerate it, Vader would probably have inched closer to him, there on his knees. But with the way things were, Vader didn’t feel like losing another hand—he would rather lose some of his dignity, pleading on his knees like a puppy begging for an extra helping of milk. He meant everything he said; kriff their opposing loyalties, Vader would take care of the omega carrying his child—his omega.
As long as his omega could be convinced to allow Vader to do it.
Obi-Wan did not lay his ‘saber down, or even move. His face did something complicated. “You must know that I cannot trust you.”
“Why not?”
Vader’s breath came in raggedly and wet, and if he weren’t too concerned with cajoling Obi-Wan he might be resentful of how humiliating the situation was. He stared at Obi-Wan through eyes not entirely tear-free, practically pinning the omega in place so that he wouldn’t just run away. Vader unfortunately was not confident in his ability to chase Obi-Wan and catch him; it would have been foolish to assert he could when the omega had slipped from his grasp so often during the war.
“You—Vader, you are a Sith, a Separatist—”
“That didn’t stop you from sleeping with me,” Vader accused. His fist curled at his side impotently—he could have all the power in the galaxy right now and he would still feel just as helpless.
Obi-Wan’s gaze flicked sharply away, as if ashamed. Two red spots rose on his cheeks, just above his beard. “That’s different.”
“Is it?” Vader’s voice was tense, disbelieving. “I would do anything you asked, first for you and now our child. Name it and it will be done. Just—don’t go.”
Stay with me.
Obi-Wan looked at Vader, and Vader cursed the fact that Obi-Wan’s shielding was so stellar, that his control of his own expression was so ingrained in him. Vader could only pick up the confliction in his scent, and there was far less nuance than he could usually glean from the Force.
There was silence for a few seconds. Obi-Wan lowered his arms into something far more casual, but he didn’t turn off or put away his ‘saber.
He bit his lip, and a brief sensory memory of Vader himself biting that lip flashed through Vader’s mind, making his already-aching heart burst with the craving and longing he felt. When he felt emotions, he always felt them strongly, letting their power flow through him and goading him into greater and greater control over the dark side of the Force—or whichever would come to his call, honestly. He felt like he could lift a mountain at that moment from the sheer passion he felt, the desperation and sorrow.
“I wish my child,” Obi-Wan started, and then stopped—swallowed like there was a rock in his throat. “I wish our child could grow up in more peaceful times.”
Vader cocked his head a little, and he watched as Obi-Wan tracked the movement of his gorget, that same neckpiece that Obi-Wan himself had worn time and time again to prevent unwanted biting. “You want me to end the war?”
Obi-Wan’s face turned red, and he jerked his face away again to look completely to the side. “Now that you say it like that, asking for something of that magnitude seems… impossible. That was silly of me to even…”
Anakin licked his lips. “No! No, it’s not… impossible.”
Obi-Wan glanced back at him a moment, his skepticism palpable even behind every obfuscation he was using. But Anakin would burn the galaxy, move mountains, and bend the living Force to his will for his mate, their child—and he would find a way to do anything, whatever he’d promised.
As a thought struck him, really struck him, Vader found that there was a thrill in him at it, a sleeping dragon with bones built of hatred and flesh made of suffering and anger and fear waking from the hibernation it had taken in service of Vader’s survival. It purred at the prospect of revenge and the implied proposal of family, a jewel to wind itself around and protect at any cost.
“It’s possible. I’ll… kill my Master for you.”
Vader thought that Count Dooku, the other old man—the one which Sidious was keeping around for as long as he was useful, though he was not Sidious’ true apprentice—would have to be snuffed out, too. Vader would not be able to rest easy in a galaxy where such a prideful, powerful darksider was allowed to live, to threaten the peace he would bring to Obi-Wan and their child. But one step at a time—and Sidious would be the bigger step, the more important step. Dooku was a pawn in Sidious’ game, nothing more.
“Vader—” Obi-Wan started, and though he didn’t put his ‘saber down even now, Vader could sense his shields ripple and knew that he wanted to. Obi-Wan swallowed, started again. “You would do that alone?”
Vader finally cracked a smile, looked at Obi-Wan with his eyes swimming with something that was a first cousin to delight. His knees felt like they were on solid ground again, instead of the plains breaking open underneath him. “Well, I’m not going to take my pregnant omega to do it. Your belly will throw you off, old man.”
Obi-Wan huffed, and rolled his eyes, and it was so normal that it almost made Vader get teary all over again. The omega had the strangest ability to make Vader’s heart do flips, to fill him up with all sorts of emotions.
“Your arrogance will get you in trouble some day, you know.” Obi-Wan paused, looking almost guilty. “Let’s just hope it’s not anytime soon.”
“It won’t be,” Vader promised, but then his lips twitched down, and he stood from his kneeling position, now that his supplication was no longer warranted. He dragged up his helmet in his hand, letting it hang by his hip. “I still don’t want to leave you out here by yourself, Obi-Wan—it’s too dangerous, with you being unmarked.”
Obi-Wan gave him a dubious look, which still hurt Vader, but he pressed on. He could prove that he would be a good alpha before marking Obi-Wan, that he meant what he said when he said anything. He would prove his loyalty and competence through blood and thunder, striking down anything that threatened Obi-Wan.
“I have a house you can stay at, while I’m away. I can take you there now, and—”
“Give me the coordinates,” Obi-Wan said, still a little wary. “I refuse to get on your ship, as an understandable precaution. I shall find my own way.”
Vader tossed over a datachip without further complaint because at least Obi-Wan would go somewhere safe even if he wouldn’t come with Vader right away. He let it arc high into the air, and Obi-Wan’s lightsaber flicked off as his gaze tracked its path. Vader, cheekily, used the opening to be next to his omega in a blink, wrapping his flesh arm around Obi-Wan’s waist and leaning in to let his lips graze Obi-Wan’s temple. He breathed in deep as Obi-Wan squeaked and finally caught the datachip, and now that he could properly parse the difference in his omega’s scent, he could tell how obvious it was that Obi-Wan was with child.
His child. His omega.
“Vader!”
“Call me Anakin,” he murmured into his omega’s hairline, his heart pounding, “since when this is all over you’ll be my wife.”
There was a brief moment where he hesitated, wondering if he’d gone too far too fast with his ever-standoffish former Jedi, but when he felt Obi-Wan’s shields slip for just a moment, he knew their hearts were as one in that matter. Obi-Wan’s scent sweetened despite his affront, and Anakin could feel their hearts pulsing in time in the Force. Rare and beautiful joy bloomed in Anakin’s chest, and he knew that once he took care of Sidious and Tyrannus, the two of them would be wed—a family, properly.
“Anakin?”
“Yes, Obi-Wan?” Anakin responded, deciding to listen when Obi-Wan pressed lightly at his chest.
He stepped back, giving Obi-Wan only as much space as he asked for, and enjoying it when his hand lingered on Anakin’s chestpiece even if he couldn’t feel that touch on his skin. Obi-Wan’s hand had a little extra skin at the knuckles from age, a little hair, and ‘saber calluses that Anakin knew all too well the touch of—it was beautiful.
Obi-Wan clipped his lightsaber back to the belt of his civilian clothes, sighing in a way that seemed almost fond. “You’re impossible.”
“Let’s hope that Sidious finds me the same,” Anakin quipped, smiling and snatching Obi-Wan’s hand by the wrist before he could take it back. His gaze traced back to Obi-Wan’s body, to the slightly rounded silhouette he gave off with his baggy clothes, and something fluttered in him.
“Vad—Anakin,” Obi-Wan scolded, but then he softened in demeanor, in scent, in the Force. He was hardly shielding at all, compared to earlier, and Anakin relished it. “Yes, let’s hope.”
As Anakin watched his omega with a heavy gaze, pregnant with promise, Obi-Wan eventually began to squirm ever so slightly. Anakin wondered if their situation was setting in for him—that though Obi-Wan was refusing closeness now, they would be close fairly soon in the future. Anakin would succeed in his task before their child was born; he had a good gut feeling about it.
“Watch the Senate, Obi-Wan. You’ll know when I’ve done it.”
Anakin gave one last tender kiss to Obi-Wan’s fingertips, which smelled intoxicating to him despite the grime of two months on the run and inconsistent bathing. He smelled of milk and musk, absolute perfection. Anakin pulled away with some amount of hesitation, and then quickly strode back in the direction of the market with his cape swirling around him, back in the direction of his ship. If he didn’t leave now to do the task set for him by his omega, he didn’t know what he’d do.
“The Senate?!”
Anakin smirked, setting his helmet back over his head and letting it seal airtight around his neck. The mechanical sound of the respirator kicked in immediately, but Anakin was still focusing on Obi-Wan’s shocked tone. He turned to look back at his omega for just a second, who for all the world looked for just a moment like he was going to come after Anakin and demand that Anakin give him an explanation for how a Sith Lord had wormed his way into the Senate to engineer a war where both sides were playing for his own benefit.
But then Obi-Wan let out a breath, and Anakin could feel him calming himself by reaching for the Force, and he knew that Obi-Wan would not come after him. Anakin continued to walk away while peeking over his shoulder from time to time because he couldn’t help it.
After a moment, he watched as Obi-Wan turned as well and continued along the oxcart trail, pulling his hood back up to guard himself from the galaxy in Anakin’s absence. Anakin could feel his intentions in the Force, to go back to his own ship and plug in the coordinates Anakin had given him while Anakin in turn headed to Coruscant to take care of their business. Anakin was going to absolutely rip Sidious apart, stab Tyrannus through the heart.
And then, when the both of them were gone and Anakin had proven how far he was willing to go at his omega’s desire, they would be together again, permanently.