A/N: This super long chapter marks the end of this arc (possibly the end of the story if I decide to be lazy) A lot of people seemed to have stopped reading after Boba Fett's part ended. Ah well, this thing has turned into a monster anyway and was never supposed to be this long.

Chapter 19

Vader sat in a darkening conference room within his wing of the Imperial Palace. Below him on the table was a report from Moff Panaka, detailing the worsening state of some hellhole planet on the fringe of his sector. Vader knew he would have to pay the place a visit soon, or else risk inciting his master's temper.

In truth he had already put it off for far too long. No doubt the third fleet was becoming restless with his extended stay upon Coruscant while they sat awaiting his arrival, unable to move forward without him. Darth Vader was never one to stay too long in a single place, and nothing had yet been able to distract him from his work, or a from a planet in need of Imperial guidance.

Until now.

Such a ridiculous thing to be suddenly melancholy over. He'd lived ten years without the boy. Why should the prospect of being parted with him for mere weeks bring on such depression? Why did nothing else seem to matter? It could not be right for a father to so desperately cling to his son in such a manner. Palpatine would be horrified to discover the extent of his obsession.

The boy had taken the news of his departure with surprising grace, merely nodding and asking when he'd be home.

Home. Yes, the ever cold and unwelcoming Imperial Palace had become home. It had only taken a month or so. Like Tatooine, Vader had long ago written off Coruscant as a candidate for home. There were too many memories. He could not leave the palace without noticing a particular street corner he and Obi-Wan had once stood, or a fine restaurant he and Padme had once dined at in disguise. And of course, no matter where he was in the city, he need only look north to see the spires of the old Jedi temple, a living reminder of his vilest task performed in service to the Empire.

Vader sat back in his chair, gaze shifting out the viewpane to his left. Coruscant's sun finally dipped below the cityscape and the lights overhead flickered to life in response, washing the room in a jarring brightness.

Yet there was hope now. Those memories could slowly be overwritten with Luke as their new subject... but only after the media frenzy had died down. For now, the child was to be confined to the palace block, lest he become caught in the viewfinder of some unscrupulous reporter's recording device.

He looked back down to the report. He supposed he ought to read it. It wouldn't do for him to venture blindly into hostile territory. Before, it had been part of the excitement. Now, it was an unnecessary risk if he meant to return to Luke at the end of it.

Vader noticed a signature in the Force approaching long before it was at the door to the conference room. He sensed it walk right past the stormtroopers standing guard at the end of the hall and had to reign in his annoyance. Since when had his personal security decided that damn farmer could just come and go whenever he pleased?

Vader used the Force to open the door as Lars reached it. The man had paused in his stride, and then continued inside with an odd look at the red light indicating that the room was occupied and locked. He wore his new uniform as awkwardly as he'd worn his coveralls on the Vindicator, like he was in a silly costume he didn't much care for. It was black and deliberately cut in the same fashion that a Moff generally wore, but there was no rank badge due to the fact that Lars' new post was technically a civilian one. He'd pinned his white star on his breast, but it appeared something of an afterthought.

The two of them had not spoken face to face since arriving on Coruscant.

"So," Vader began, and he saw no reason to be soft with the man. "He managed to buy you after all." There could be no doubt about whom Vader was referring to. The farmer went stiff and the beginnings of a snarl appeared on his face before the fight abruptly fled from him as he seemed to think better of it.

"Call it what you will, alright? 'Bought' is too simple a word. He rolled out the welcome caravan and courted me properly, for reasons beyond my understanding." the farmer came up to the table and put his hands on the polished wood. "Tell me what he wants with me. I don't want to be part of some messed up game. I've got enough troubles wading through this political quicksand as it is."

"I do not claim to know all that passes through the Emperor's mind," Vader replied. "I can assure you, however, that I was all for sending you back to that scrap pile you call a farm."

"I don't doubt it," Owen said dryly, clearly not all that grateful. He stood up straight again and the scowl fell away from his face. He reached into his pocket and fished out a worn datachip, setting it on the table between them both.

"I'm not sure if this will mean anything to you, but I think you ought to have it anyway. Took forever for the paperwork to go through. They thought I was a few hairs short of a Wookie for wanting to re-open files on a dead man."

Curious, Vader took the small object and inserted it into the datareader currently displaying his report. The contents of the screen changed immediately, opening a document displaying bold wording at the top and a seal that he immediately recognized. It belonged to Tatooine's slave registry. Though he could feel his expression darken, he continued onto the finer print underneath. The first few pages were a bill of sale, dated a few decades past, detailing the transaction that had sold Shmi Skywalker to Cliegg Lars. He recognized Watto's signature scrawled at the bottom in a messy hand, remembered from all those times young Anakin had sat watching his mother meticulously forging documents for the Toydarian.

The next file was a second bill of sale, this one for Anakin Skywalker. It seemed, for whatever reason, Cliegg Lars had purchased him as well, even though at that time he'd already left the planet and was well on his way to becoming a Jedi Knight. The foolish farmer ought to not have wasted his money.

Opening the following file, he saw it was his mother's Certificate of Emancipation. It must have been put through sometime before her marriage, as a free man on Tatooine could not legally marry a slave. Vader bowed his head as he remembered something he'd once spoken long ago.

"I will come back and free you, mom. I promise."

It was the source of some of his greatest guilt, that foolish promise made by Anakin Skywalker. He'd never fulfilled it, never even remembered to try until he had sensed her in pain. By then it had been too late. Some half-wit farmer had stepped in to do the deed that a Jedi could not. Cliegg Lars, Vader was forced to concede, may have been a useless man, but at least he'd done one honorable thing in his life.

Why did Owen Lars imagine these files would be of any interest to Darth Vader? All of this was in the past and part of a life belonging to another man. Vader opened the last document, intending to skim it quickly and then berate Lars for his idiocy.

It was another Certificate of Emancipation and it was dated very recently. This one belonged to Anakin Skywalker, though it was noted that the slave in question had been deceased for several years at the time the document had been drawn up. Vader found himself staring at it for much longer than he'd intended, surprised to see his name on the screen again. To have one of these certificates in hand was the dream of all of Tatooine's enslaved. It was the only real road to becoming a human being. It was the only real road of escape.

Completely useless. Redundant. Vader had been free nearly all his life, and some pathetic document with his name on it should mean nothing. Somehow, his fingers had still curled possessively around the datareader. Hopefully, Lars had not noticed.

"Why would you even waste your time on this?" he asked the farmer, because he still could not comprehend it. What did the man gain? What was there left for him to gain? Did Lars truly not realize, that due to Palpatine's manipulations, he was currently the most favored man in the Empire?

"I certainly didn't do it for you, if that's what you were worried about," Lars growled. "It was something that my father started before his death. Just thought I outta see his work done. Besides, it was the right thing to do, not to mention necessary for me to look you in the face properly." Vader extracted the datachip and crushed it in his palm. Lars let out an exasperated noise.

"The gesture is appreciated," Vader said reluctantly, because, try as he might, he could not deny the sudden warmth he felt. "You are instructed to destroy all copies you may have made of that document."

"There are no copies," Lars answered dully. "And I didn't come here just to flatter you with it. I came to get Luke. Where is he? I was told you were leaving." The minuscule spark of... affection he'd felt for the farmer dissipated immediately. This insufferable man needed to cease demanding things of him. And who had told him of Vader's imminent departure? Perhaps a pruning of his personal staff was in order. However, most worryingly...

"I sent the boy to your apartments under heavy guard several hours ago," Vader said, suddenly very confused. Lars, as well, looked puzzled. "Are you telling me he never arrived?"

.o.o.o.o.o.

Time had ceased to exist. There was only dark and light, pain and respite, red and white. Sometimes he remembered who he'd been and where he'd come from, but he'd been so long in this place that he'd begun to wonder if that life had ever happened. Other times he was pulled into a more primitive state of mind, one where he cared only about the various agonies he felt and his simple wish for the darkness to just take him in its peaceful embrace.

Food was brought at irregular intervals by a droid and sometimes that was the only break in the monotony for what seemed like days on end. In the beginning, he plotted escape. He spent endless hours contemplating how to disable the locks, where the ventilation shafts might be located, if the food droid might be reprogrammed to aid him. Now, he'd abandoned all hope, lost all desire for his own freedom. His will to fight had been drained and what was left was only a hollow, broken shell of a man.

There was one visitor, only ever one.

The ray shield that served as the door to the cell wavered for a moment, enough for the second figure to enter. The prisoner did not even raise his eyes, preferring to stare blankly at the opposite wall.

"How are you this evening, Master Kenobi?" the old man asked, all pleasant innocence. And Obi-Wan pretended for a moment, as he always did, that this man was a friend genuinely interested in his well-being. He also took note of the word 'evening,' and immediately felt more secure after learning the current time of day. In this cell the lights were always on and there was no way to know. It mattered little, however. Within a rotation's time, he would once again be utterly unsure.

With the aid of the Force, Obi-Wan was suddenly hauled up by the restraints upon his calloused and scarred wrists. He allowed his head to hang limply upon his chest.

"There's nothing... left for me to say. Please, have mercy," Obi-Wan began his usual, tired pleas, aware that they'd not had any affect on the creature before him as of yet. He did not beg for anything but death anymore, but it seemed even that was too much to ask. He'd told Sidious all his secrets. All his little ones. There were others, he knew, big ones, terrible ones, but he'd buried them so deep he did not even remember them himself. It was necessary. If he could remember, then Sidious would see, so he'd used the Force to lock them away.

"There will be no mercy for you, Master Kenobi. You were not inclined to give it to poor Anakin on Mustafar, and neither am I inclined to give it to you today."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, guilt flooding him anew. So many mistakes. All his fault. All his responsibility. Nausea came with the guilt. Nausea for the man before him. The Emperor spoke so softly, so indulgently, as if he were a kindly grandfather explaining to a child why he could not have a candy he was begging for.

"Let's begin, shall we? Your mental shields are impressive, but I do believe that after this night, my victory will be complete."

.o.o.o.o.o.

Luke wandered the halls of the Imperial Palace, hopelessly lost. He'd thought it would be fun to run away from his guards, maybe then he might find a way to follow his father to wherever he was going, but now he was regretting his decision. The palace was so large that it was impossible to tell where he was inside, and there were so many twists and turns that he wasn't even able to retrace his steps back the way he'd come. The corridors were empty and unfamiliar, without a single person in sight.

A long rug ran the length of the narrow hall, and Luke's hushed footsteps were the only sound in the overwhelming silence. He reached a lift and suddenly felt a bit of relief. Maybe if he could go down to the ground floor, he could go outside and back into the palace from the entrance he knew. He hit a promising button of the lift's panel and the doors whisked shut.

Down, down he went and it felt like he was going down much further than he'd gone up. Luke waited impatiently as each button lit up in between. When finally the doors opened again, Luke found himself in a place completely unlike the floors above. There were no decorations on the walls, no statues or rugs. The lights were harsh and fluorescent and everything was white. It reminded Luke of the medi-center on the star destroyer.

Slowly, Luke began to walk. He was pretty sure he was underground, but he still searched for daylight or any door that might lead him outside. In the next corridor there was a set of heavy blast doors that seemed to require a retinal scan or a code cylinder to enter. However, they stood open and waiting, giving a tantalizing view of a long hall beyond. The promise of seeing something forbidden was too much for Luke to resist. Maybe this was the detention level, or maybe it was some sort of super secret laboratory like in the holovids. He crept hesitantly inside.

A group of uniformed men were approaching and Luke ducked into an open doorway that proved to be some sort of storage closet. It would be so embarrassing to be caught wandering and taken back to his father or Uncle Owen.

And there was something down here. Something in this mind that told him he was going the right way.

Luke was about to leave his hiding place when another group turned a corner into the hallway. These men were wearing red. Most of them walked right past him, but the one at the end in the black cloak stopped next to his open doorway and stood there for a long time. Luke held his breath.

"Why don't you come out of there, child? There is no need for shyness." the man said eventually. Luke recognized the voice, though it took him a moment to place it. He'd heard it in the Emperor's throne room.

Stars! This man was the Emperor!

Luke's heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. What should he do? Was he about to be scolded? Maybe the Emperor would decide to lock him up for sneaking around his palace. Still, Luke had no choice but to step out of the storage room. Immediately, one of the red guards took his arm in a tight grip, and Luke was so frightened that he tried to pull away without thinking.

"Stand down, Captain," the Emperor said gently. "This is Lord Vader's boy." Luke's arm was released, but the old man was not finished speaking to Luke. "How did you get down here, child? This is a restricted area." To Luke's relief, he did not sound mad. His voice was very calm.

"I, I felt something," Luke stuttered. "And the lift took me down here and the door was open."

"Oh dear, that is a problem," the Emperor answered. He turned to his guards and his voice took on a lower, meaner tone. "Go investigate this." The red figures bowed and left Luke alone with the old man. The corridor became quiet again.

"Tell me about this thing you felt, child," the Emperor said softy, in the same kind of way Aunt Beru would ask him to tell about his nightmares.

"I could hear a man screaming... in my mind," Luke answered reluctantly, knowing it sounded kind of crazy. But he usually wasn't wrong about things that happened in his mind. "Maybe he's down here. Maybe we can help him." Underneath the hood, Luke saw the Emperor's face turn sad.

"I'm sorry child, but there is no help for the poor souls down here. They are quite insane, a danger to both themselves and others."

Luke gazed down the corridor in the direction that the Emperor had come, now very certain that the voice belonged to someone down that way. "Perhaps you'd like to see for yourself?" the man offered. Luke nodded slowly. "Come then, only for a moment."

The Emperor led him down the hall and Luke followed eagerly. They passed many doors with Aurebesh letters and numbers. He could read some letters, but not whole words because they were long and on Tatooine, most things were written in Huttese. At the end of the hall, they entered a durasteel door. Behind it was a small room and at the other end was a ray shielded opening. Luke went to peer inside while the Emperor hung back patiently.

There was a man in there. He was sitting against the wall and looking down at the floor. His feet were bare and his clothes were old and dirty. His hair was grey and he had a long beard, but Luke could still notice that the left side of his face was misshapen, like someone had punched him really hard and the bones did not heal right. Luke saw that his wrists were in binders and that they were smeared brown with dried blood. He looked old and weak and harmless.

The man glanced up at him after Luke stood there for a while. His eyes also flickered to the Emperor and then looked away, disinterested.

"Perhaps, if you tell him your name, he will tell you his," the Emperor prompted. Luke frowned, but took a step closer to the ray shield.

"Um... hi," he began. "My name is Luke Skywalker." Luke winced then, remembering that he wasn't supposed to use his old last name, but the Emperor didn't seem to have minded.

The man in the cell did nothing at first, his eyes, though they still stared at the floor, had gone wide and the pupils dilated. Then they came to Luke again, and this time they weren't blank. They held him in their depths for a while, and there was so much sadness that Luke felt like he was drowning for a moment.

Tears streamed down the ragged man's cheeks and disappeared into the thick of his beard. His mouth began to move but no sound came out.

"No," the man finally choked. "No! Nononono." He descended into incomprehensible sobs, face crumpling. He fell onto his side and curled up into a ball, body shuddering violently.

Luke was shocked and disturbed. He'd never seen an adult cry like that before. Adults were supposed to be strong. He took an involuntary step back and he felt the Emperor's firm hand on his shoulder.

"You've done all you can, child. This creature is beyond help." Luke, still quite dumbstruck, did not notice the victorious grin playing upon the Emperor's lips. He allowed the cloaked man to guide him from the room. The durasteel doors of the antechamber closed behind them once they were out in the corridor again.

They walked along in silence for a while until they had nearly reached the lifts. The red guards stood waiting for them at the end of the hall.

"I think we've had enough adventure for today," Emperor Palpatine said to Luke with a wink. "Let us return you to Lord Vader, as he is surely beside himself with worry. And perhaps we could keep these events a secret from him. That way, neither of us has to get in trouble."

Luke felt the smile grow on his own face as he slowly came back to himself. He might just sort of like this man.

.o.o.o.o.o.

A/N: No, it's not a happy ending if you are rebel scum. But if you are a good citizen that is loyal to your Empire then it is the happiest ending in the galaxy. If I do end up writing a new arc or a sequel, you can expect it to focus on Obi-Wan. Thanks all for your support!