Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars
Prologue
Darth Vader's world always had a reddish hue, as did the Jedi that knelt at his feet, clutching at his throat.
"Tell me what is your mission, Jedi!" It was curious how his voice sounded so different inside his own helmet. While others heard the deep, menacing voice, Vader heard his own, the old one. Furiously pounding against his ears in contrast to what the voice synthesizer transmitted. It was as if he was listening to himself and his shadow speaking at the same time. In the beginning it was horrid, but he had long accustomed to it.
His grip grew tighter on the Jedi's windpipe. The Dark Lord wondered if he knew who he had been before he was engulfed by the flames of Mustafar. Darth Vader knew very well who this Jedi was. Caleb Dume. He went by a different name now. Vader was not the only one who had let his former self perish with the rise of the Empire.
He loosened his Force hold on the Jedi, to allow him to speak. Vader was sure he would say nothing. He took a deep breath, it echoed ominously across the hangar. The Jedi still sported an air of defiance. The Sith Apprentice grew impatient.
"You might as well kill me now," the Jedi spoke between ragged breaths, "I will never tell you anything."
Vader's Force choke tightened again and he raised his arm. With it the Jedi rose as well; his feet furiously searching for ground and his hands desperately attempting release from the invisible hand that was sucking the air out of him.
He wasn't going to talk, Jedi rarely did. He pondered briefly whether to take him alive or end him right then and there. He ended up deciding on the latter. His hold tightened a little more and a little more and he watched as the reddish hue on the Jedi's lips turned purple. Darth Vader was taking his time. He could have crushed his trachea a long time ago, but when he was fueled by anger he liked watching them squirm.
"Anakin!" a soft familiar voice came from behind him. This was a most inconvenient time for a daydream. He often heard her voice. It kept reminding him of how much she would hate the man… no… the thing he had become. Vader watched as the Jedi began growing limp from lack of air.
Almost done. Just a little bit longer and then you can go back to hating yourself.
"Anakin! Please let him go!" she repeated. He couldn't let him go. There was no turning back. There was no fixing the mistakes he had made. Vader chose the Dark Side and he would have to hold on to it. There was no other path for him now.
He felt a soft hand with a strong grip squeezing his upper arm. The flesh part of it. He looked down and what he saw startled him so that he accidentally let the Jedi fall limply on the floor, just before he was able to squeeze the little remaining life out of him.
She ran towards the unconscious body of the Jedi kneeling next to him and putting her fingers on his wrist, checking for a pulse. Vader knew he had one still. When she realized the same she ran a gentle hand through the Jedi's hair.
"You'll be alright Kanan," she spoke to the unconscious Jedi and stood.
She looked deeply into his eyes, as if she could see beyond the helmet. She said nothing though, and he said nothing either. He couldn't fathom putting a sentence together.
The only noise that filled that small hangar was the harsh wind bellowing and his long, rhythmic, mechanical breaths.
She walked silently and slowly towards him. Darth Vader was frozen. Was this real?
He heard noises from behind him but she raised a hand and they stopped immediately. "He won't hurt me",she said, never taking her eyes off of him, "will you, Anakin?"
The Dark Lord felt his legs weakening, but his metallic knees would not budge. He felt he should be shaking but his prosthetic fingers would not respond. He could not utter a word.
"It's me Anakin." She closed the distance between them and looked up at him. He had never seen her from this angle. He was so much taller now and she seemed so small. He inspected her reddish hued face. She was different. She was never different in his dreams.
Her long curly hair was much shorter, held by a simple bun. Streaks of gray mixed between her chocolate locks. Some wrinkles had settled around her eyes, and mouth. She wore white, like she did that day on Geonosis. She was more beautiful than ever.
Darth Vader's heart beat furiously against his chest; he could hear it, feel it pounding against his scorched and scarred skin.
"Anakin?" She asked now, placing a hand carefully on his stomach.
"That's not my name." He answered in his made up voice, startling her. She took a step back, flinching. He didn't mean to sound like that, his old voice pronounced the words softly, he could hear it inside his prison.
She gathered her courage, the look on her eyes was the same as it was so long ago when she was about to do something brave.
He was reminded of why he had loved her so much.
She stepped forward again and closed their distance, looking up at him, inside his mask, inside his mind.
"Padmé," he finally said. The voice in his head was but a whisper, the voice that came out was only nearing softness.
"If you let these people go, I will come with you." Padmé offered. Behind the mask Darth Vader tried to smile, but couldn't. He had lost that ability long ago. He heard protests from those who still stood behind them, but with the lift of a hand she silenced them.
The Sith waved a hand, indicating the door to his ship. Padmé looked around and stood, just for a moment. Then, with resolve, she headed the way to the ship and Darth Vader trailed behind her.
That day, no one died.