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Title: Victories Over Flesh and Spirit
Author: Jaxmari (imadrabloodwater@gmail.com)
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn
Genre: Alternate Universe (AU), Angst, Darkfic, Drama, Horror

Summary: A victory over flesh is not a victory over spirit. An alternate universe tale exploring the dark possibilities of Darth Vader finding Ben Kenobi and Luke Skywalker seven years after the events of Revenge of the Sith.

Disclaimer: In case it wasn't obvious, I'm not George Lucas, so I own nothing. Just playing in his sandbox until they kick me out of the playground. I make no money; this is for personal entertainment only.

Notes: Alternate Universe. Dark!fic. No EU material is used. Inspired, in part, by Luthe's Ben-in-exile flopsy.

Warnings: Vader/Obi-Wan slash, Rape / NonCon, Sex, Torture, Violence

Ben Kenobi knocked back another Tatooine Sunburn, wincing at the acrid taste. He suspected that if it weren't burning his taste buds away, he would do more than wince. Rumor had it that a Tatooine Sunburn could double as sunburn salve, but only for creatures with the toughest hide. The thought that he was probably wearing a hole through the lining of his esophagus with his choice of liquor didn't even faze Ben.

Anchorhead only had the one bar, and Ben imagined they were quite tired of seeing him show up every few days for the past seven years, order the strongest liquor they had, and proceed to drink until he forgot everything that ever mattered. Not that it really showed; he grew even more quiet and withdrawn the drunker he got. There were a lot of reasons he drank, and none of them were something he liked to talk about.

He glanced up at the nearby window. The lights of Anchorhead were by no means strong or numerous, but they were enough that Ben could see his reflection in the glass. He'd gotten old in seven years. Lines of age and pain had begun to furrow across his face, and there were flecks of gray in his light brown hair and beard. He'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit that his hairline had receded a bit.

Ben smiled without mirth. He looked exactly how he felt: an old, washed-out drunk.

"We're about to close, Ben," called Majie. He glanced at her, noting her frown. She looked as old and weathered as all the other women on Tatooine, despite being young enough to be his daughter.

Thoughts of having children made Ben think of the bright-eyed young boy named Luke Skywalker, who was no doubt nestled safely in his bed at the Lars homestead. He imagined nothing could take away that boy's sweet smile, not even this starforsaken planet.

Ben shelled out the necessary credits -- guiding idiots out of the Jundland Wastes had its rewards -- and silently nodded at Majie before leaving. He rarely spoke to anyone in Anchorhead. They already regarded him as a crazy old wizard, and Owen's less than favorable opinion of him was doubtlessly helping these rumors along. Ben always found it ironic that Owen would never forgive him for what he did to Anakin.

Especially since Ben himself would never forgive Anakin.

Ben pulled the hood of his worn cloak over his head and walked out with as much grace as a man who'd drank four Tatooine Sunburns could. Majie said nothing to him; she had long ago given up asking him if he would get home all right.

He found his aged eopie, Torr -- or rather, Torr found him. It took three tries to get on top of Torr, and by the time he did, Ben was wishing Tatooine would stop rotating so quickly. He looked back and saw Majie exiting her bar as Torr began to canter away on the long trip home. Torr knew the way home better than he did by now.

Ben sensed a disturbance out in the desert, heading for Anchorhead. It felt as violent as a storm, and the smell of rain tickled at Ben's nose.

Rain? On Tatooine?

Ben forced himself upright, trying to clear his head. Something was incredibly wrong, and he could feel its vibrations reaching out to him through the Force. He grabbed Torr's reins, bringing the eopie to a sudden halt. He looked around, his gaze darting through the deep shadows of Anchorhead.

There was nothing.

Ben wondered if he was so drunk he was imagining things, before he heard Qui-Gon Jinn's disembodied voice, screaming in his ear. "Run, Obi-Wan!"

Ben slid off Torr, taking Qui-Gon's words literally. His feet had no sooner hit the ground before a blaster bolt tore through the eopie's body. He gave a piteous cry and toppled over onto Ben. The smell of burnt flesh seared through Ben's senses as he struggled against the weight, trying desperately to untangle himself from the reins. He could hear the sound of armored feet marching through the streets, of people screaming in terror in the distance, and of blasters being fired in every direction.

It was now danger that screamed around Ben, not Qui-Gon. Time was stilted, coming in short, ragged bursts. Anchorhead lit up with green and red bolts of energy. Stormtroopers in their white armor streamed through the small settlement. Ben saw Majie running towards him, screaming in terror.

Letting the Force flow through him took longer than it should have. Ben heaved Torr off of him, silently wishing the loyal beast well in the next life. He pulled out his lightsaber; he felt like he was underwater, but he somehow managed to block a blaster shot.

Gunships roared overhead, razing Anchorhead to the ground. His eyes stung from the sand that the wind from the passing ships had blown up. Why was this happening? Why had the Empire come here? There was no reason for this. Not unless...

"Run, Obi-Wan!"

Ben felt him before he saw him.

He rolled away from the burning red blade almost a second too late. Even trapped inside of a black lifesuit, his face hidden by a death's head mask, there was no mistaking Anakin Skywalker.

No.

Not Anakin. Darth Vader.

"I've been waiting for you, Obi-Wan. We meet again, at last. The circle is now complete."

He hadn't heard that name in seven years and found he hadn't missed it. He brought up his lightsaber, the alcohol weighing him down like stones tied to his wrists. It was reflex that allowed Ben to block Vader's vicious lightsaber swings, not skill or speed. He ducked a vicious swing that came in high, his eyes falling on Majie as he stumbled back. The stupid girl was trying to drag him away from the fight.

"We have to get out of here, Kenobi!" she cried, her face wet and her voice cracking.

Ben grabbed her wrists as Vader approached, closing the distance between them in three large steps. Ben could hear the gears of Vader's legs whine as he moved. "Majie! Run!" he ordered, trying to shove her away.

Her dark eyes were wide, her face frozen in fear, as she stared at the looming figure of Darth Vader. Ben pushed the girl as hard as he could, her body flying backwards into the streets. He met Vader's lightsaber with his own, red clashing against blue in violent sparks. He saw stormtroopers circling in, bristling with unfired weapons. They were apparently leaving Ben to Vader, but the meaning of their presence was clear.

He wouldn't escape.

"Owen didn't lie. You've grown weak, old man. You're as drunk as a downlevel beggar." That voice wasn't Anakin's. It was synthesized, deep, foreboding.

The realization that Vader had spoken to Owen Lars sunk in, and Ben panicked. Luke! What had Vader done to Luke? Failure seared through Ben's conscience, and he realized that the only thing left in his life that mattered was now either dead or worse. How had he allowed this to happen?

"You monster! If you've hurt the boy..." he ground out, his voice so guttural it sounded foreign to his own ears.

Vader only laughed, his gloved fingers motioning Ben to attack him.

Ben swung out his lightsaber, feeling as though the galaxy was closing in on him. He wasn't paying attention to his surroundings; the world was still blurry to his eyes, his mind still trapped in a fog of alcohol, his heart trembling in fear for Luke. He hadn't realized Majie was so close to him until the tip of his lightsaber passed through her outstretched hand, slicing through her palm. Ben froze and gaped at the woman in horror. She held up what remained of her hand, her eyes filled with pain and disbelief.

Majie opened her mouth and screamed, the sound shrill, piercing through the din of the massacre around them. Ben wanted to scream with her.

Ben ran towards Vader too late; his guilt stabbed at him when he realized he had just cost an innocent woman her life. There was little he could do when Vader put the poor girl out of misery, running her through as casually as Ben often imagined he had the younglings. Vader was faster, stronger, more powerful in the dark side than Ben had ever imagined Vader could become.

Vader turned to face him, his red lightsaber thrumming loudly. Ben held his lightsaber in front of him, as steady as possible, letting the moment stretch out between them.

Ben knew he was not ready to follow Qui-Gon's footsteps, knew that he had failed to protect Luke. All hope was lost, but he determined he would not die alone. He swung his lightsaber down on Vader with everything he had left, letting the Force flow through him. He almost thought he'd won until the Vader's red blade blocked his at the last possible second. Vader twisted his lightsaber against Ben's, and Ben's lightsaber flew out of his hands, landing on the ground several feet away with a sound of finality.

Ben closed his eyes and waited for Vader to strike him down, whispering his apologies to Qui-Gon.

The blow never came.

His throat constricted with the familiar feel of Vader's fingers tightening around it. Ben choked, his eyes flying open; Vader's black mask blocked everything else from his vision. The sight of Vader was as suffocating as his durasteel hand lifting Ben into the air like a struggling toy, crushing the life out of him. He felt like someone was pushing against his chest; Ben became desperate, his hands clawing uselessly at Vader's arm.

"No," whispered Vader, bringing his other hand to press against Ben's head. "You won't die so easy, not after what you've done to me. You will suffer first."

Vader's grip loosened around his throat, but there was pressure in Ben's head. Vader was bringing the entire weight of the dark side of the Force down on Ben, pushing it through his head. Ben gasped for air once and blacked out.

When Ben woke up, his hangover was the least of his concerns.

The harsh lights of his cold, metal cell made him wince. The Force around him seemed distant, as though sensed through a sort of filter. Ben realized his senses remained, but his abilities to affect anything through use of the Force were somehow blocked. He tried to move, only to find he was chained to a wall. Ben glanced at his bonds, but knew no amount of struggling would get him out of those metal shackles; they hummed softly, dampening his powers in the Force.

Ben forced himself to focus on his surroundings, to look for any visible weaknesses. There were none he could see; the room was a perfect square, and everything was made of dull metal. The air around him was cold and sterile; he had to be on some sort of spaceship. Where had Vader taken him?

The previous evening's events crashed down on him, and Ben's thoughts immediately focused on Luke. Ben struggled at his bonds, trying to reach out through the Force to sense if the boy was still alive. It wasn't hard; Luke seemed to be close by, along with...

Ben froze as the door to his prison cell slid open to admit Darth Vader. Vader disturbed the very Force around him; his presence made Ben shudder. Vader came to a halt in front of him, his dark helmet gleaming in the artificial light.

Silence stretched out between them, and then: "You hid my son from me."

Ben found himself unable to breathe as invisible hands grasped him by the throat. He choked, reflexively struggling against his bonds. Metal clanked against metal, Vader breathed heavily through his respirator, and Ben's vision constricted. A sharp pain went through his chest. He thought he might pass out, but he was suddenly able to breathe again.

Taking great gulps of air through his bruised throat, Ben looked up at Vader. He wondered why he bothered. Even if Vader had an expression, he wouldn't be able to see it. The sound of Vader's breathing, made sinister through his synthesizer, indicated his emotions.

"Don't you have anything to say to me, Obi-Wan?" Vader leaned in, his gloved fingers running through Ben's hair as tender as a lover before he yanked his head up hard.

Ben bit his tongue to prevent from crying out, seeing his own reflection in the oculars of Vader's mask. Vader's hand stretched across the side of his head, and Ben knew if he wanted, Vader could easily crack his skull open.

"Say something," Vader hissed, slamming his head into the wall behind him.

Stars went supernova across Ben's retinas, and he gasped despite himself. Vader was so close now that the sound of his breathing was all Ben could hear. Ben clamped his mouth shut, trying to ignore the throbbing on the back of his head. Vader backed away suddenly, making it easier for Ben to breathe.

"I thought we could have a civilized conversation, but apparently your time spent on Tatooine has impaired your common courtesy."

"Do not give in, Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon's voice filled his mind, and Ben took a deep breath. He reached into the Force, forcing away his pain, his fear, his anxiety. He could not use the Force to free himself, but he could at least use it to gain control over himself.

The door slid open again, admitting a spherical black droid. Ben's eyes widened as he stared at its attachments, noting a needle attached to one of its arms. He glanced at Vader and imagined he was smiling behind his mask.

"Now, Obi-Wan, we're going to find out what else you've been hiding from me."

The torture droid drew closer, and Vader reached out and grabbed a fistful of Ben's hair again, yanking his head to the side and exposing his throat. Ben calmly closed his eyes and forced himself to relax; the needle plunged into his flesh, a cold jab followed by a burning sensation that quickly spread throughout his body. Ben's eyes watered in pain, and he choked back a cry of pain.

"It's a chemical that mimics the feeling of being burned alive -- from the inside out." There was amusement in Vader's voice, a cruelty he'd never been capable of as Anakin Skywalker. "I like to call it poetic justice."

Ben kept his mouth shut, for fear if he opened it, he would scream. His veins filled with what felt like molten lava, pouring through his body and searing his nerve endings. His body was wracked with painful spasms; he was surprised smoke wasn't coming out of his pores. Ben's pain quickly built upon itself, and his vision narrowed to a red tunnel. Vader hadn't lied; his entire body felt as though on fire.

"I could make it stop," Vader said in a strangely quiet tone, massaging Ben's scalp gently. "I could have the droid inject you with the counter-agent. All you have to do is talk to me."

Ben closed his eyes and remained silent. There were things he knew that he could never tell Vader. He may have found Luke, but Ben would die before he revealed the secret of Yoda or Leia.

"Where is Yoda?"

"Dead."

Vader was silent for a moment, his fingers digging into Ben's scalp now, as though he could pry the information he wanted out of it. "You were with Padmé before she died, weren't you? You tried to take her from me, even then."

Ben almost laughed. Bitter irony filled him, competing with the burning agony in his veins. He should have known that Vader would bring up his beloved Padmé, but he still was amazed Vader believed he would ever have taken Padmé away from him. It was ridiculous -- there had only been one person Ben had ever truly desired, and it hadn't been her.

"The blood test confirms the boy is mine, at least. When I arrived at Naboo to find Padmé's body, Queen Apailana told me it was you who delivered her to them. Padmé still looked pregnant, but something felt wrong -- very wrong. I almost didn't trust my feelings at first, but then I remembered your admonishments to me as a boy, so I had her examined. The forensic droid told me she'd given birth... to two babies."

Vader's breath hitched, but he continued on. "I found Luke through the census reports. I couldn't be sure by his name alone until I found out who his guardians were and saw your last name listed nearby. Not very subtle, Obi-Wan. I have to admit, though, it was still clever. You hid yourself and the boy in plain sight, on the last place I'd think to look -- the last place I'd want to look."

Vader had Anakin's ability to ramble. Ben only half-listened, pain distracting him from reality. He tried to seek comfort through the Force, but it was difficult to concentrate.

"But I can't find my other child." Vader said after a moment, his voice more a growl. "You're hiding the other one."

"It's dead."

"You lie!"

Inside of his skull now, Ben felt a dark, foreign presence pounding against his defenses. They started to buckle under the weight of Vader's enormous power.

"Be mindful of your feelings, Obi-Wan."

At Qui-Gon's admonishment, Ben emptied his mind of thought and emotion. He was unable to submerge his consciousness into the Force -- there was too much physical distraction. Instead, he lost himself to the bright pain coursing throughout his body, reveling in its agony, drowning himself in its torment. He could no longer feel Vader invading his mind or even hear his voice. He finally opened his mouth and screamed his throat raw.

By the time Vader tired of interrogating him, Ben knew more about pain than the torture droid. Despite that, Vader left his prison cell knowing no more then he had upon entering it.

They fed him intravenously after what felt like years.

Ben was weak from hunger and the remnants of the pain-inducing chemicals Vader continually injected him with. When he slept, he had dark, twisted nightmares that seemed cobbled together from the worst of his memories. Vader often appeared, trying to find out where his missing child was or where Yoda was hidden. Even in dreams, Ben kept his mouth shut and his defenses tight. His lightsaber combat form, the Soresu, was one focused on defense. Ben channeled his skills with his blade into his mental fortitude, making himself impervious to Vader's mind games.

It was his body that was not so easy to defend.

When Vader visited him again, he was holding a bottle in his gloved hand. Ben braced himself for some new torment, but Vader simply unscrewed the top and held the bottle under Ben's nose. The rich aroma of a fine Corellian brandy wafted past Ben's nostrils, awakening his craving for alcohol. "Where is my other child, Obi-Wan?" Vader asked, his tone silky.

The desire for alcohol was one Ben had developed over years of drowning himself in his sorrows, trying to forget Anakin's betrayal. Ben almost told Vader everything he knew. Almost.

Vader shook with anger at his continued silence, slamming the bottle into the wall behind him. A huge shard of glass flew into Ben's face, cutting his cheek. He felt warm blood trickle down his face, the smell of the brandy tormenting him as it filled the room. A part of Ben wanted to tear free from his bonds and lick the liquid off the wall, but he curbed the desire to beg for another bottle. Vader wouldn't defeat him, not even with this.

He could feel Qui-Gon's pride through the Force. His drinking had been a source of frustration for them both; Qui-Gon had told him that as long as Ben depended on physical things, he would never master the Way of the Whills. Now, bleeding and chained to a wall by a Sith Lord, Ben finally did what Qui-Gon had been asking him to do for the past seven years: he let go of his dependencies.

The Way of the Whills opened before him, a blossom opening before the sun.

Vader's voice was filled with barely contained rage. "Your powers are weak, old man. You'll tell me all I want to know soon enough."

Ben looked up into his mask, his voice steady, if raw when he finally spoke. "You can't win, Darth." Ben refused to acknowledge Vader's individuality; he was the same as any other Sith Lord. "If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine."

Vader hit him so hard that Ben heard the screeching sound of metal rending as his shackles were torn from the wall by the force of the impact. His jaw and cheekbone shattered under the weight of Vader's durasteel fist. Pain shot through his face, and Ben wished he'd been lucky enough to pass out. He slid to the floor, trying to bring up his free arm to strike Vader, but Vader's hand closed around Ben's wrist before he could make contact.

Ben hardly noticed the pain in his wrist when Vader squeezed it. The throbbing pain of his face made it hard to see, and he couldn't open his mouth. Vader leaned in close, his heavy breathing echoing weirdly against Ben's ringing ears.

"You're mine. You've always been mine. You will always be mine. What you are hiding from me is mine, and I will find it. You can't resist me for very long -- you never could."

Vader let him go and stood up, turning to a stormtrooper. "Sedate him and take him to a bacta tank. Keep a close eye on him," he ordered. Vader swept out then, his black cloak billowing behind him.

Ben bided his time.

Vader haunted his dreams, wearing Anakin's form. The sight of the young man Ben had once called brother made him ache in places of his heart that he'd forgotten existed. He was every bit as beautiful as Ben remembered, but his eyes had grown cold, and his smile cruel.

"Tell me where the other one is, Obi-Wan. You have no right to hide my children from me. They do not belong to you." Vader had adopted a tone that almost sounded reasonable.

It was not Ben who answered him, but Qui-Gon. He stood on the blasted plains of Obi-Wan's dreamscape, motioning to Obi-Wan to stand behind him. He looked the same as he had before his death, leonine and impassive. He gazed at Vader with more compassion and understanding than Ben thought he deserved. "By that logic, Anakin, you are suggesting that they are property that you can claim by genetic birthright alone. A parent is one who cares for a child -- Owen and Beru Lars had more claim to Luke than you do."

"They're dead. I killed them," Vader growled, whirling on Qui-Gon.

"Acts of murder make you an unfit father."

"You have no right to speak to me that way! I would never hurt my own child!" Vader shook in fury. His countenance changed, and his eyes burned yellow and orange, as they had when Obi-Wan and he had dueled across Mustafar. "You know nothing!"

"Like you would never hurt Padmé or Obi-Wan? I know everything, Anakin. I watched it all. I tried to help you, but you would not listen."

"The advice of a dead man is meaningless."

Qui-Gon's sigh was heavy. Ben stood behind him, resisting the urge to reach out and touch Qui-Gon. He could almost smell the man; he felt so real, so alive. It was all a dream, and when he woke up, Qui-Gon would be dead, and Ben would be alone. His heart continued to ache.

"I love you as though you were my son, Anakin," said Qui-Gon. "Is that meaningless, too?"

"If you love me, Qui-Gon, then tell me where the other child is!"

Ben's mind whirled. How could Qui-Gon still love Vader after everything he had done? How could he look at Vader with such compassion? Vader didn't deserve kindness -- he deserved to be killed.

"It is because I love you so much that I will not tell you."

Vader roared wordlessly, his red lightsaber suddenly appearing his hand. He rushed Qui-Gon and Ben, but they were weaponless in the dream. Ben tried to run, but Qui-Gon offered no resistance and only gave Vader a sad smile before Vader's lightsaber ran him through. He faded from sight like smoke, leaving Ben to deal with Vader alone.

Vader approached, his features completely corrupted by the dark side now. His lightsaber hummed, and the dreamscape became so dark that the only illumination was from his red blade. Ben stood still, startled to find he appeared as a young man now -- he looked as he had when he and Anakin first met, all those years ago.

"You will regret this, Obi-Wan."

Ben forced himself to smile. "Oh, I already do, Darth. I regret everything."

He woke up just as Vader ran him through.

Ben gave no signs of having awoken. He kept his eyes closed and his breathing patterns regular. He was lying on a platform, naked and covered in dried bacta fluid. There were no dampeners on him now, and Ben let the Force flow through him, feeling whole for the first time in days. Using the Force to see without opening his eyes, Ben sensed two medical droids and four stormtroopers in the room.

He made his heart stop beating for a moment and listened to the piercing beep of the monitors that showed he was flat-lining. The droids rushed over towards him.

Ben opened his eyes and sat up with lightning speed. He grabbed one droid by the head and wrenched it in front of him, blocking the stormtroopers' blaster shots with its body. He used the Force to toss the other droid into two of the stormtroopers, knocking them over. Using every ounce of his Jedi reflexes, Ben rolled off the table, obscuring his passage by whirling his sheet. He summoned one of the fallen stormtrooper's blasters to his hand and shot all four of them.

Ben stood up, feeling slightly dizzy. He gingerly touched his face and was relieved to find that the bones had healed well. He discovered clean, white clothing on a nearby table and pulled them on. Knowing he only had seconds before more guards rushed in, Ben climbed into an air duct. Just as he fitted the grate back on, an Imperial officer and several stormtroopers burst into the room.

Ben silently crawled away from the infirmary. He gripped the stolen blaster tightly in his hand and wished he had a less barbaric weapon. His body ached from the sudden workout it was given, and his heart raced. He paused in the air duct, closing his eyes and taking a moment to breathe. He focused on what was important.

He reached through the Force, trying to find Luke's life signature. It took a few moments before he found the boy, but Vader was with him.

Ben sat back, trying to locate his lightsaber while he waited for Vader to leave. He could sense it some distance away, far past Luke. Coming to the conclusion that rescuing Luke would be quicker and easier, Ben waited until Vader moved away, heading off in the direction of where Ben's lightsaber was kept. Satisfied that Vader was far enough away not to immediately sense him, Ben crawled through the air duct, trying to get to where Luke was. The air duct system was immense, bigger than any ship Ben had ever been on.

Before reaching Luke, the air duct became too narrow for Ben to crawl through it anymore. Ben sighed and dropped out of the air duct into an empty hallway, silent and quick as a puuri cat. He retreated into the shadows before anyone could notice him, heading through the corridors. He used Luke's presence in the Force as a homing beacon.

Luke's room was in a long, dark hallway, empty of all life save his. Ben wondered if he was being led into a trap, but he sensed no danger. Vader should already know of his escape, but Vader's presence was still far away and hadn't moved.

Ben hit the opening device to the door Luke was just behind, but it wouldn't open. He used the Force, but still the door would not budge. No command code, no trick Ben knew could make the door open, no matter what he did. He rested his palm against the door, staving off the urge to pound against the door in frustration. He had to save Luke; there was no sense in escaping without him. If he had a lightsaber...

"What a clever trap, Darth," Ben murmured. Vader truly had learned a few things since they'd last met.

There was no escaping it, no escaping him. Ben sought out Vader's presence in the Force, unsurprised to find him in the same room Ben's lightsaber was. Ben headed towards him with newfound conviction. He was ready to die now. He had mastered the Way of the Whills, and he would protect Luke as best he could even if it meant his death. It wouldn't be as effective as anything he could do while alive, but it left some hope of saving Luke from the dark side.

Vader waited for him inside of a polished black chamber. Ben stood outside and studied the huge sphere; after a moment, a door slid open. The pure whiteness inside made Ben wince, a stark contrast to the dark metal hallways of the ship they were on. He stepped inside, gripping his blaster tightly. The air was painfully stringent and sterile.

Vader sat at the far side of the room, his labored breathing the only sound inside his chamber -- it was steady and regular, as though Vader was asleep. He sat in a hydraulic chair, his back to Ben, and his helmet off. He did not turn when Ben came in, but Ben could sense his lightsaber was in Vader's lap.

Ben quietly stepped closer, ready to reach out and take his lightsaber back, but a closer look at the scarred, white skin of Vader's head made him stop cold. Wires were hooked into the neck of Vader's lifesuit, and horrible burns had etched strange patterns in his skin. The realization that this nightmarish-looking man had once been Obi-Wan's beautiful Padawan made it difficult to breathe.

Vader's eyes were still closed, his breathing as regular as it had been before. Was he truly asleep? Ben couldn't believe it.

Ben moved closer. His lightsaber lay across Vader's thighs, and Ben quietly summoned it to his hand. Vader did not stir. Ben flipped the switch, but it didn't turn on. A closer examination revealed Vader had removed the crystals from it.

Ben took hold of the wires attached to Vader's lifesuit and tried to yank them out, but Vader's fist closed around his wrist. Vader turned to face Ben, his once-handsome face unrecognizable from scarring. There was a moment of hesitation, and they regarded each other silently.

Ben was the one who shattered the moment. He fired his blaster at Vader, trying to yank his wrist free at the same time. Vader raised his hand and somehow blocked the shot. Ben fired off round after round, but Vader blocked each bolt so fast that Ben could only see a black blur of movement. His shots didn't even leave a mark on Vader's glove.

Ben struggled to free himself, but Vader's grip was too tight. Vader pulled the blaster out of his hands and crumpled into a misshapen metal ball with little effort. Vader's breathing became heavier, his fiery eyes narrowed in hatred as they struggled against each other.

"When I left you, I was but a learner," hissed Vader. He wasn't wearing his synthesizer, but his mellow voice was raspy and ruined. "Now, I am the master."

Ben shoved every ounce of the Force he could at Vader. "Only a... master of evil... Darth," he said, his voice ragged as he pushed himself to his limits.

Vader barely even showed the strain of resisting Ben's Force push. He snapped Ben's wrist and flung him against the wall with the same lack of effort. Sharp pain sparked from his wrist, but was quickly interrupted when Ben's head crashed into the durasteel wall.

He struggled to his feet as Vader closed the distance between them, metallic footfalls echoing weirdly in the room. Ben tried to yank Vader's breathing apparatus off through the Force, but Vader backhanded him. It was a softer hit than last; Ben didn't feel anything break, but he did taste blood.

Vader pulled him to his feet, pressing him against the wall. He wore a sneer on his face, and his durasteel fingers clutched Ben's shoulders like a vice. Ben stopped struggling. He could almost see Anakin in Vader's face, hidden behind the scars. Something inside of Ben, something buried deep, began to bleed.

"Are you so eager to die, Obi-Wan?" asked Vader. He laughed. There was a hint of the boy Ben loved in that laugh, but it passed quickly.

"I don't fear death."

"No... you never feared much, did you, old man?" Vader's fingers dug into Ben's flesh painfully, and he leaned in closer, bringing a strange, medicinal smell with him. "Where is my other child?"

"You should know by now that no amount of pain will ever make me tell you."

Vader grabbed Ben's throat, gripping it almost tenderly. "I haven't exhausted what I can do to you yet, old man. But there are alternatives other than pain."

Ben choked, reaching up to grab Vader's arm with his one good hand. Vader grabbed his wrist and broke it as he had the other. Ben gritted his teeth at the fresh stab of pain. He bucked violently with his torso, but Vader pressed against him, breathing into his ear. The smell of astringent and medicine filled Ben's nose, and he coughed as he choked.

Vader's thigh press between Ben's, spreading them. Fear pumping through his veins, Ben struggled upwards, only for Vader to tighten his grip around his throat. To his surprise, Vader's other hand was yanking at the sash tied around Ben's waist.

"Do you remember what it was like? During the Clone Wars? Just the two of us?" Vader's voice was barely a murmur. "I loved Padmé so much, but I hardly ever saw her. You were always there, though. I thought I'd always have you to fall back on. The way you looked at me sometimes... I knew you wanted me."

Ben struggled harder, gasping for air as panic arose in his chest. He knew where Vader was trying to lead him, and it was a place he did not want to go. Vader tore open his shirt, baring his stomach. Ignoring the pain in his broken wrists, Ben slammed his arms into Vader, trying to fight even though he had no hope of stopping Vader.

"But you wouldn't want me now, would you, Master? Now that I'm a Sith Lord, scarred and maimed by your hand." Vader's grip around his throat tightened even more, cutting off Ben's air, as his gloved hand slid into Ben's trousers. Ben hissed as Vader's hand closed around his cock, tugging on it violently.

"I disgust you now. I can tell. But it's not enough," Vader continued to murmur, stroking Ben until, to his shame, he grew hard. "You don't respond to pain. Do you respond to pleasure?"

Ben choked, and Vader loosened his grip only long enough to give Ben a quick draw of breath. Ben looked up at the white ceiling, his chest heaving, trying to force his body not to react to Vader's ministrations, but it betrayed him as surely as Anakin once had.

"I want to know where my child is, Obi-Wan. Then I can have the family you took from me. They belong to me, like you do."

Ben tried to use the Force, tried to distance himself from his body, but he could feel Vader pressed against him -- not just physically, but bearing down on him with the power of the dark side. It poured into his being, igniting his nerves with guilty pleasure. Ben's cock ached despite his efforts to quell his arousal; Vader's hand gripped too tightly and his glove was rough, but it felt good. Heat spread through his groin, but Ben's stomach felt like ice. Even during the worst of the torture, Ben had been in control, but now he was at Vader's mercy, reacting just as Vader wanted. Anger and frustration swelled inside Ben, even as his lungs burned for air.

"You like this, don't you?"

Vader let Ben draw another breath, then returned to gently choking him. His hand pulled roughly at Ben's cock, his thumb brushing over the sensitive tip. Ben gurgled, his thrashing body now thrusting into Vader's hand. He felt as desperate as he had when Vader brought him the bottle of Corellian brandy -- desperate for air, for his dignity back, for control over his physical reactions.

"You could be part of my family again, Obi-Wan. But only if you tell me where my child is. Don't make me humiliate you like this."

Ben tried to shut his ears off, but Vader kept murmuring into his ear, whispering threats and empty promises. Vader suffocated him with the dark side, clouding his senses. Nothing Ben could think of could remove his thoughts from the bitter pleasure of Vader's hand on his cock. Vader squeezed his throat and his cock equally tightly as Ben finally came, his orgasm tainted by shame and revulsion.

Vader finally let his throat go, and Ben gulped at the air, his throat bruised. Vader stared into his eyes, his expression intent. "Where is the other child, Obi-Wan?"

Ben met his gaze. Not even this would weaken him. "Somewhere safe," he choked out, his voice almost as raspy as Vader's.

Vader snarled and brought his hand up, smearing Ben's come over his face. "Filthy old man. You're nothing but a drunken whore now. To think I once looked up to you."

Ben's stomach churned at Vader's words, and he shuddered in shame. He lunged at Vader with what little strength he had left, but Vader waved his hand and slammed Ben back against the wall. He'd never been so grateful to lose consciousness in his life.

When Ben woke up, he could smell remnants of bacta fluid all over him again.

He sat up in the bed he was lying on as fast as a blaster bolt, feeling a strange weight on his wrists. He lifted them up, and while they were fully healed, strange metal bracelets were grafted onto them. Small lights blinked softly on them, and it took Ben another moment to realize that he had no contact with the Force -- not even the dampened contact he had when chained inside his prison cell. Now, even Qui-Gon would not be able to reach him.

He felt cold, and it wasn't just because he wore no clothing. Ben felt naked and ached for the Force. To be unable to touch it was worse than death. Vader had found another weakness.

Thoughts of Vader made Ben shudder. Waves of nausea and revulsion passed over him, and Ben found a 'fresher off to the side and vomited into the toilet. He sat down on the cold floor when he was done, wondering where he had gone wrong, what he had done to deserve this.

He forced himself to stand up. He wasn't going to be defeated by self-pity, either. He was lucky enough that Vader hadn't shackled him to another wall, so he took advantage of his freedom and bathed. When he came out, he found clothing hanging inside of one of the closets. It was simple clothing, but it fit. He looked around the blank room, and it contained nothing but a bed and meditation mat. He supposed the meditation mat was Vader's way of reminding him that he could try as hard as he liked, but he would never be able to contact the Force again.

Pushing away his anger, Ben stood in front of the door, and to his surprise, it opened. The bright lights inside the room made him flinch for a moment, but he walked inside. This room, unlike his, was richly decorated -- with paintings from Naboo, no less. Broken toys littered the carpeted floor, and there was a small bed in the corner. On the other side of the bed, wide blue eyes stared at Ben, nearly covered by a mop of blond hair.

"Luke?"

The eyes blinked at him, but the boy did not move. Ben swallowed. Though he had watched over Luke from a distance, Luke had only met him once. Luke had wandered into the Jundland Wastes on his own a few years ago, and after something of an adventure, Ben found him and took him back home. He doubted Luke even remembered that.

Ben sat down amidst the broken toys, bending down to pick one of them up. Pieces of it had been completely shattered, and the internal gears ripped out. No child could have done something like that. Ben's heart sank, and he looked over at Luke, setting the toy down.

"Hello, Luke. My name is Ben Kenobi."

Luke said nothing.

"I promise I won't hurt you."

There was silence, and then: "I remember you."

Ben felt a sense of relief, but he noted Luke was still hiding behind the bed. He set down the toy and took the most unassuming pose he could, folding his hands in his lap. "Who broke these toys?"

Tears appeared in Luke's big blue eyes, and he dived behind his bed where Ben couldn't see him. "It was the Dark Man. He was angry because I wouldn't call him my father. But he's not. I know he's not. He killed Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru --" Luke sobbed for a moment, but spoke again with a muffled voice. "-- my father would never have killed them. My father isn't a bad man, not like the Dark Man is."

Ben turned his face and stared instead at his own trembling hands. Luke was strong for such a young boy, as strong as any Jedi youngling, but his words saddened Ben. The sight of Luke's smile when he'd fixed Owen's power converters and the way he'd skipped around the Lars homestead, singing to himself, had been one of the few joys of Ben's life on Tatooine. He hated that Luke was losing his innocence so young.

"He's not your father," said Ben, deciding to spin the truth from a certain point of view. He closed his hands to stop their trembling. "He betrayed and murdered your father long ago. Never believe him when he tells you these lies."

The mop of blond hair reappeared, followed by the big blue eyes, and eventually Luke's entire face as he stared at Ben. The resemblance between he and Anakin was unnerving. His face was covered in tears both fresh and dried, and even in the middle of the Jundland Wastes, Ben had never seen such fear in Luke.

"Why would the Dark Man lie about that?"

"Because he wants you to become his apprentice and serve him as an evil Sith Lord."

Luke disappeared behind the bed again, but reemerged after a moment, tentatively approaching Ben. "Are you my father?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

Luke swayed on his feet, his gaze darting all over the room before returning to Ben. "Will you take care of me?"

"Yes, as much as I'm able."

Luke moved faster than Ben could keep up, and the next thing he knew, Luke had flung himself at Ben and wrapped his arms around his neck. Luke's sobs shook his small body. "I don't like the Dark Man. I don't like the way he breathes, Ben. He scares me."

Ben patted Luke on his back awkwardly; he'd never had much exposure to children beyond Anakin. "Darth Vader will scare you, Luke, and there's nothing I can do to make him any less intimidating. But you can learn to control your fears. You must remember not to believe anything he says, no matter what, and only listen to me."

"All-all right." Luke gulped, gaining control over his tears. He still clung to Ben tightly, resting his head on Ben's shoulder. Ben rubbed his back, wondering how he could keep his word to take care of Luke.

A door opened, and Vader entered the room. He said nothing, but his breathing was unusually heavy as he stared at Luke and Ben. Luke squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered at the sight of Vader.

"Bring Kenobi to me," Vader ordered after a moment and swept out of the room. Several heavily-armed stormtroopers entered the room, one of them motioning with his blaster for Ben to stand.

"I'll be back, Luke," said Ben, setting Luke down gently. He patted the boy's head and followed the stormtroopers out. Luke watched him go, tears spilling down his cheeks.

The stormtroopers led him through the labyrinthine hallways of the ship to balcony, overlooking a huge ship hangar. Ben gaped at the size of the hangar; a Star Destroyer was docked in it, driving home the immense proportions of the ship they were on. Vader stood by the railing, his back straight, and one hand clutching a small holomonitor.

"Leave him," he said.

The stormtroopers backed away, disappearing. Vader did not turn to face Ben, but instead held out the holomonitor, flipping it on. The model of a moon-like space station rotated above it. Ben approached, watching the model as it sped through space and fired on a planet with immense beams. He flinched as the planet was reduced to rubble. The model disappeared, and the holomonitor showed the space station through various phases of construction. It paused when it was about sixty percent complete.

"My Master calls it the Death Star," said Vader after a moment.

Ben's mind spun with all the terrifying possibilities such a thing created. The entire galaxy would live in fear of the Death Star. Emperor Palpatine would have complete and utter control; no one would dare challenge him. The destruction and pain the Empire had already wrought would pale in comparison to what the Death Star could do.

Ben tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry. "We're onboard it right now, aren't we?"

"Yes. The few Jedi who escaped Order Sixty-Six have been put out of their misery, and my duty is now to protect this technological terror." Vader finally turned to face him. "Does it frighten you?"

"No."

"You lie, old man. But know this: this monstrosity pales in comparison to the power of the dark side. The power I command."

"Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely."

"I have no time for clichés, old man."

Vader's hand shot out and grasped Ben by his throat, squeezing painfully. Shameful memories flashed through Ben's mind, but he ignored them. He clawed at Vader's chest, trying to rip the power display out, but Vader grabbed his wrist and pushed him against the railing, threatening to drop him over the side.

"I am offering you a chance to share that power with me. Join me, and together we could rule the galaxy. The two of us could defeat Palpatine. We could raise my children together -- we could be a family."

It suddenly all made sense. No matter how powerful Vader had grown, he still could not defeat the Emperor alone. The injuries Ben had given him on Mustafar stunted his power, preventing him from realizing his full potential. If Vader wanted to become the Master of the Sith, then he would need help.

Ben started laughing, even as he gasped for air. Vader squeezed so hard that Ben thought his neck would break, then threw him onto the floor. Vader moved to stand over him, electrifying the very air with power -- Ben didn't need the Force to sense that.

"Why are you laughing?" demanded Vader, his fists clenching.

"It's called irony," rasped Ben, rubbing his neck. "I won't join you, Darth. I won't tell you where the other child is. If you kill me, I will defeat oblivion. You have no power over me. There is no victory you can achieve, least of all through me. I will always stand in your way, no matter what you do."

Vader's breathing filled the silence for an impossibly long moment before he spoke. "There is one victory you've left me, one power." He grabbed Ben by the hair, yanking him to his feet. Ben gasped, but not with pain. Shame filled him as Vader forced him to look into his polished mask.

"You wanted Anakin. You can lie, but you can never hide that desire. Your beloved 'brother' has no meaning to me, but he meant something to you. Know this from now on, Obi-Wan: when you're crying out his name in pleasure, it will be Darth Vader who claims you, not Anakin Skywalker."

Ben had often heard that the truth hurt more than any lie, but never had he realized how much the truth could hurt until that moment.

Luke found him the next day, sitting on his meditating mat with his eyes closed.

Ben didn't move when the boy kneeled next him. Even without the Force to comfort him, Ben found that meditating cleared his head and gave him peace. It made it easier not to think of all the things Vader had done and would to do to him. Luke's small fingers pressed against his flesh, and Ben's eyes flew open.

"Are you all right, Ben?"

Ben turned to Luke, forcing himself to smile. "I'll be fine," he lied, his voice still raspy.

"A man came to me in my dreams, last night, while you were gone. He said his name was Qui-Gon and that he was your friend."

Ben froze, his eyes growing wide as he stared at Luke.

Luke began to recite something, stumbling over the larger words. "He wanted me to tell you that a victory over flesh is not a victory over spirit. Whatever the Dark Man does to you is meaningless. Qui-Gon said to let the Dark Man think he's won, because it will give you time for... something. I don't remember the rest. I'm sorry. I-I tried to remember, I really did." Luke's eyes filled with tears, and he looked panicked as though he'd done something wrong.

Ben pulled the boy against him, stroking his hair. "It's all right, Luke. I know what he's saying. You did fine."

Luke sniffled. "What did he mean, Ben? I don't understand his words."

"He meant that Vader has won nothing. He will imagine that he has, and that's fine. So long as he thinks he's winning, he'll let us to be together."

The smile he gave Luke was genuine now. He imagined Vader thought Ben wouldn't be able to teach Luke anything as long as he was cut off from the Force, but he thought wrong. It didn't matter if Ben couldn't touch the Force -- Luke still could. Ben and Qui-Gon could still train him in the ways of the Jedi. Even the training Vader would eventually give Luke could be used to further Luke's training as a Jedi. There was still hope after all.

Ben took a corner of one of the towels and wiped at Luke's face. "One day, Luke, you will be a Jedi -- but not like your father. You will be stronger than he ever was."

He could tell that Luke didn't understand him yet, but time and training would change that.

Thirteen years later...

Bail Organa wiped at the flat disk with a soft cloth, noting the tiny cracks. He glanced up at the tramp freighter captain in disapproval.

"Sorry, Senator. Nothing I could do about that. The kid who gave it to me was in the middle of a firefight. I barely escaped when the Star Destroyer showed up as it was. It should still play, though."

The tall, imposing Wookiee who the tramp freighter captain had introduced as his "co-pilot" growled in agreement. Bail's office was large, but the presence of the Wookiee made it seem smaller. Bail glanced at his daughter, Leia. She looked back at him, curiosity in her dark eyes.

"What did you say your name was again, Captain?" Bail asked the pilot.

"Solo. Han Solo." The young man's smile was disarming, full of charm that no doubt had women swooning over him. Leia, to her credit, looked unimpressed.

"Well, Captain Solo, let's play it and see what it says." Bail wasn't sure why he trusted Solo to watch the recording, but there was something about him that commanded a certain sort of respect. If cultivated properly, Bail was positive Solo would be a great leader. He wondered if it was possible to convince a mercenary to help the Rebel Alliance.

Solo shrugged, and Bail slipped the disk into his holoplayer. Leia moved closer, her delicate hand resting on Bail's shoulder. She could always sense when something important was about to happen.

The holoplayer showed a handsome young man dressed in black Jedi robes. His appearance possessed an eerie similarity to Anakin Skywalker, but he lacked Anakin's cagey intensity. His expression was serene, and he wore a smile that reminded Bail more of Padmé Amidala. Leia sucked in her breath at the appearance of the boy, as though she knew him from somewhere. Bail smiled sadly, for there was no way she wouldn't recognize him on some level.

The boy began to speak. "Senator Organa, years ago, my Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, served you in the Clone Wars. Now he begs you to help him in his struggle against the Empire. I regret that I am unable to present my Master's request to you in person, but my ship has fallen under attack, and I'm afraid my mission to join the Rebel Alliance has failed. I have information vital to the survival of the Rebellion and the galaxy itself. I must ask you to rescue me onboard the Death Star -- it approaches Alderaan even now. This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Bail Organa, you're my only hope."

The boy turned away, and the holorecording ended.

Leia looked stunned as she turned to Bail. He could see her questions already, but now was not the time for answers. "Leia... please find Artoo, and bring him here. We will need his help. Bring Threepio as well, we'll need him for translation."

Bail could see the hurt in her face as he dismissed her, but she left the room without arguing. He turned to Han Solo, spending a brief moment debating what to do.

"For an extra thousand credits," Solo said without preamble, "I could forget all about that Rebel Alliance business. I just need my payment for the delivery of that holodisk, and I'm as good as gone."

Bail thought quickly. "How would you like to quintuple your payment, instead?"

Solo looked startled, and the Wookiee growled. "No way. Going up against the Empire is suicide."

"I'm not asking you to fight for the Rebellion, Captain Solo. I'm only asking you to rescue that young man. That's it. After that, you're free to go."

Solo chewed his lip and then whispered something to the Wookiee, who growled back at him. Solo regarded Bail for a moment before speaking. "What do you have in mind?"

Bail smiled.

One the other side of the door, Leia began to plan on how she could sneak onboard Solo's ship to help rescue Obi-Wan Kenobi's strange apprentice. There was something about the boy that was strangely familiar. He was magnetic.

She shook her head; boy or no boy, she had to help the Rebellion. Things were starting to happen now, and she wasn't going to be left behind. It was her duty as both an Imperial Senator and a member of the Rebel Alliance to do everything in her power to stop the Empire's evil machinations. With her mind made up, Leia set off to the find the droids, the boy's last words echoing in her mind. She didn't hear his words as he'd actually said them, but how she'd heard them.

Help me, Leia Organa, you're my only hope.

The Beginning.

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