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Title: Dark Purpose
Author: Cecilia (bleakblacktired@yahoo.com)
Rating: R
Characters: Vader, Padme, and the Emperor
Category: Angst, drama, vignette

Disclaimer: George Lucas IS Star Wars. I make no money off my plot bunnies, and I don't expect to. These characters are plucked from the imagination of GL, and in no shape or form belong to me.

Summary: A more tragic approach to the character of Darth Vader than what ROTS revealed. Darth Vader has a catharsis and makes the ultimate decision.

Dark Purpose

Darth Vader stood at the window of his sparse quarters, surveying the hazy towering structures of Coruscant against the darkening skies. Sealed forever in his dark amour, his injuries now murmured only a dull pain. He stared out at the capital planet without really seeing anything. The impressive city structures did not move him. This was not his city. It was not his planet, galaxy, nor his Empire.

It all belonged to the Emperor.

Nothing. There is nothing now for him. Life did not matter for him without Padme. He had heard news of her death, but had not believed it. How could she die? He would have sensed it.

Last week, still weak from his operation and against Palpatine’s advice, he and his Sith master had watched Padme’s funeral beamed in on the HoloNet. At first he did not want to see her body in state. His body froze when he saw her laid out in the casket. There was her face, her beautiful face, so soft and serene as if lost in a dream. And what was that clutched in her fingers? The small, carved token he had given to her when he was a boy.

He had done this. He had killed her. Killed her and his unborn child. He could have just heard her out, believed her, gone where she wanted to flee. He would have saved her. He clenched as he thought about his failure of trying to kill Obi-wan. Cold anger welled up as he thought about his former Jedi master and his vile influence on her. He turned her against him. He should have killed him. Padme could be at home right now, waiting for him.

He thought of her deep beauty. The way he used to crawl in bed with her late at night while she slept. Memories of her sweet perfume filled his soul. The feel of his lips against her soft skin as he softly kissed her throat. He would slowly move to her breasts, tickling her nipples with his tongue until she woke. And then moving his hands down her belly and rubbing her between her legs, listening to her tender cries. He would move down and use his tongue on her quivering mound until she moaned. Only then would he enter her and they would make love until the early morning light.

While she was pregnant, he worried about the baby as they made love.

And the baby...

The baby.

Her sweet memories turned into ashes that turned into icy despair. It had sank into his core, and remained there as he watched the casket being drawn away.

Wait, he had wanted to scream after her, wait. Take me with you!

He had looked over at his master, who seemed to be gloating over the funeral procession, and felt his core grow even colder. To Darth Sidious, Padme was a hurdle cleared. The evil Emperor had used them both all along. He knew of the former Jedi’s feelings for Padme, knew that they would secretly wed, and even knew that she would eventually become pregnant and they would have to face the consequences of their forbidden love. And what hurt most is that his master knew Vader’s anger would be used for his gain, his power, and her death. Now that Padme was out of the way as were most of the senators and all of the Jedi there is no stopping the Emperor. It is his Empire now.

The Emperor could have it.

The memories of Padme’s funeral faded away as Darth Vader gazed over at the remains of the Jedi Temple in the distance. Life. Death. Good. Evil. Happiness. Misery. Only the Sith deal in absolutes, Obi-wan had said.

What else is there?

He had told Palpatine that he could not live without Padme. He pressed his face to the window and expected to feel the coolness of the glass on his forehead, but instead he felt nothing and heard the soft clank of his facemask as it tapped against the window. He placed his mechanical hands on the window on either side of him. He could hear the tiny mechanisms in his artificial hands whirring; the cogs winding in eternal rotation. Hear his ghastly mechanized breathing sloughing in and out of his raw lungs. He was totally insulated from all touch. Nothing drove him except for useless rage and agony. A machine. A monster. That is what he is now. He realized that whatever remained of Anakin Skywalker now lies in the casket with his dead wife. He wretched himself away from the images, and focused on the scene before him instead. Following the graceful urban structures downward, he peered into the lower depths of the city. It was a long fall to the lower levels. Instant death on impact. Except his Jedi training and reflexes would probably intervene.

He closed his eyes and welcomed the darkness instead of the hideous simulacrum images created by this damned mask.

There is nothing. Nothing left to live for.

He stepped away from the window, swollen joints protesting in burning agony, and slowly sat down on a nearby couch. He slumped forward, contemplating his demise. His eyes, still tender from the massive burns, welled up. Unable to wipe them away, they stung as they rolled down his scarred cheeks.

A blaster shot to the head. A lethal crash in his starfighter. Poison. Electrocution. Ripped apart by a vicious pack of voracams on planet Rhimaas on the outer rim. Anything to stop this pain.

Or he could provoke his master. Tell him he wanted no part of his plans or his stupid Empire. The powerful Sith Lord would surely kill him like he killed Mace Windu. He could die and be with his true love for all eternity. Except his master still had use of him. His master would not let him go so easy. As much as he hated him, Vader realized that the Emperor was all he had left.

Besides he would probably survive any of the attempts to take his own life. Perhaps it was not his destiny.

Then what was it?

He stopped. His eyes snapped open. What of the baby? The sudden thought flashed and sparked within, brightening his internal darkness. What if the baby had survived? He had seen the slight rise in Padme’s middle that indicated she was still pregnant. But there was something - something rippled in the Force. Perhaps she had given birth before she died? Perhaps someone had stolen the baby away fearful of Palpatine’s influence.

Darth Vader stood, the dawning realization certain within him. He would search through the records of a birth, any birth, on Coruscant, Naboo, anywhere where a life form had been brought forth in this galaxy. It will be an exhaustive search, but he will keep at it. Soon he will know the truth.

For Padme will live in their child. She will be with him again. And their child will be found. He will raise this child as Padme have wanted. He would crush anybody who would try to stop him. Soon the galaxy will truly be his. Together they will rule. Father and child.

His mind active, the Sith lord strode from the room; dark as it was, his purpose was finally clear.

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