TITLE: Steel
AUTHOR: agentj
CHARACTERS: Darth Vader; minor: Bail Organa, Leia Organa
STATUS: complete
DATE: January-April, June 2005, March 2006
TIMEFRAME: between Revenge of the Sith and A New Hope
SUMMARY: Darth Vader meets Leia Organa for the first time.
CONTENT WARNING: dark thoughts
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Originally written for challenge, it was inspired by tf.n author VaderLVR64's and "A Chance Encounter".

He took me in his arms
But then he squeezed too hard
He wouldn't let me breathe, breathe, breathe

—Charlotte Martin

Politicians. Imperial generals and senators quibbled over the negotiating table. Many of the senators were from the days of the Old Republic, it was obvious. They still thought they could negotiate and finagle their own viewpoints, as if their desperate attempts would count for something. Why couldn't they see that this mandate would be the best for all of them and just do what they were told?

Fortunately, his breathing apparatus could not sigh, for if he did, it would surely disrupt the aura of power and intimidation he was meant to convey at this putrid excuse of an "emergency meeting." It was at his master's insistence that the meeting take place on Alderaan, and that he be present at the meeting—a means of showing the Emperor's personal involvement without, of course, being personally involved.

The junction between his left leg and the biomechanoid fittings were bothering him again. Vader suppressed the need to shift his weight. He had complained to the medroid assigned to him on this visit, but like all the others which had been assigned to attend to his needs, it could not locate the source of the trouble. In bitter petulance, Vader had smashed the droid against the walls of his hyperbaric chamber. He had felt the pleased amusement of his master through their Sith training bond. It was then Vader had realised his biomechanoid interface troubles were not the result of faulty wiring, but of his master's will. These were little nudges here and there to keep Vader on his toes, to keep his impatient anger alive, and keep him encased in the Dark.

And knowing that made Vader more angry still.

But why was his master heightening his sense of the Dark Force on this mission? Vader was agitated enough at the thought of coming here to Alderaan. Seeing Senator Bail Organa, a man who had fought side-by-side with...him, only served to remind Vader of what he had failed to do—destroy the last remaining vestiges of the Jedi Order.

Vader's mind glowed darkly, not allowing himself to think of the name, although he was unable to stay back the image and the memories of an older Jedi with wheat-coloured hair and beard which were turning grey. Prematurely, he had said. Because of you.

Because of him, Vader's leg was biomechanical.

In the past five years of his...imprisonment—yes, that is what this so-called "life" was—Vader had used his dark powers to hunt down the remaining Jedi. He was doing the galaxy a favour. No more would Jedi poison the minds of young padawans. No more would children be taken from their homes, ripped from their mother's breast, all in the name of peace, justice and the all-powerful, all-mystical Force. Yet for all his powers, he had not found the one who haunted his very existence. Perhaps, Vader thought gleefully, the old man had found a little hole in the backwaters of the galaxy to curl up in and die of humiliation and regret.

If only he knew for certain.

In the meantime, Bail Organa would make side-ways glances from the negotiating table at him, his dark eyes piercing Vader with trepidation, though he would speak no words of what lay between them.

Worse yet, Bail Organa's wife had been sent to greet Vader and his personal entourage upon arrival. Breha Organa had once been a close friend to...her. A lifetime ago, when he had been assigned to protect her, he had met Breha for the first time. Seeing Breha again brought back that afternoon of women's chatter, warmth reflected off the golden sands around the lake, and images of a pale face of flawless beauty. To see that face again, that dark, flowing hair...

Vader pushed aside the turmoil it caused in him.

Thus his master was causing his biomechanoid interfaces to become erratic.

Vader needed this anger, this madness that pulled him apart at the seams. It would cure him of his myriad injuries, his master said. The Force knew Vader tried. But he was never strong enough.

"Father!" a poignant cry echoed through the beautiful archways of the Alderaanian palace. A little figure clad all in white save for a red sash tied around its waist ran across the polished surface of the jet black stone floor. Two clone stormtroopers blocked the way down the long hallway that led to the gathering of men. The voice continued to shrill defiantly as the figure struggled against one trooper's arm that outstretched to keep it at bay, "Let me go! I must see him! ...Father!"

Vader watched the scene dispassionately. He recalled Imperial troop reports five years ago when Senator Organa and the Tantive IV were discovered travelling in a restrictive space zone. He had claimed to be transporting his newly adoptive daughter to Alderaan. Surely, this scamp must have been she.

The girl continued to call for her father, Bail Organa, and the man rose from the table and began to make his way across the floor. Raising his black-gloved hand, Vader stopped the senator from proceeding. Organa felt a slight pressure on his chest, impeding him. He looked up at the Dark Lord with surprise and anger, though he would not address the man behind the mask. The senator simply continued to stare at him.

Striding down the long walkway, Vader gripped the hilt of his lightsabre out of habit. One of the stormtroopers finally got a good grip on the small intruder and lifted her up off the ground. She squealed and demanded, "Let me go, you—you—nerf herder!"

Vader was close enough now to see the pudgy little face of the girl, her soft skin like alabaster against the dark braids curled around her head. Tiny fists continued to pound uselessly against the durasteel of the trooper's uniform.

The Dark Lord slowed his pace and stopped a few steps away from the trooper and stared with some fascination at the child. Hearing his breathing mask approach, the little girl took notice of the Dark Lord, her deep brown eyes turning into round orbs as she forgot her struggle. Her little mouth gaped open, unable to know whether to be fascinated or frightened of the dark lumbering man before her.

The trooper glanced over his shoulder at the Sith Lord. Vader nodded almost unperceptively, and the clone lowered the child to the floor. Stepping back, the trooper allowed the girl to stand before the towering black-clad man.

Vader dropped to one knee before the girl, allowing his head to be more on level with hers. The fear disappeared from her eyes as she swallowed and jutted out her chin audaciously. Behind his mask, Vader's unscarred portion of his face allowed him a smirk.

Softer than any of the troopers had ever heard him speak before, Vader cooed, "Do you have a name, little one?"

"Leia."

The gentle smirk bled away, leaving Vader's face underneath as cold and steely as the mask that hid it.

Leia.

Another woman entered the room, a stormtrooper following her with blaster drawn, not sure if he should stop her or protect her. Vader's eyes flickered up to glare with inhuman thoughts at the creature.

They had stolen the name he and...she...had chosen for their daughter.

Standing without preamble, Vader's hand roughly grabbed the girl's arm. She gave out a squawk as he dragged her toward her mother, Breha.

Baring down at the queen, Vader thrust the five-year-old to her and rumbled, "Keep this...brat out of the meeting room!"

The girl clung to her mother's knees through the gauzy soft green dress Breha wore. Leia turned her face over her shoulder to cast a tearful but defiant glance at the towering dark figure who had suddenly turned so much unwarranted wrath toward her. Although her lower lip trembled, her dark brown eyes told him she would not forget his cruelty. Nor forgive.

Vader spun on his heel, oblivious to the girl's private vow, his cape swishing around his ankles. Pausing only to shake a pointed finger at the stormtroopers, Vader commanded, "No more interruptions. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Lord," the identical mechanised voices of the troopers replied.

Vader strode down the long dark hallway where Bail Organa still remained, apparently frozen in fear. The Dark Lord brushed past him and paused when the senator didn't follow. Turning his dark mask toward the man, Vader quietly reminded, "You have work to do—Senator."

Bail blinked and shook himself out of his reverie. His dark eyes rose to meet the opaque lenses of the mask. "Yes, Lord Vader." He returned to the negotiating table, a strange relief shedding off of him like summer rain.

Vader silently watched the man retreat, then turned his head to observe mother and daughter escaping out of the room. He mulled the taste of their fears through the Force. For five years, the senator and his consort kept this child hidden away from both his person and from speaking of her. Not that he had any interest whatsoever in the personal lives of the Emperor's sycophants and scapegoats. Still...

For a momentary lapse, Vader pondered what would have been if shehad lived. Their own child would have been five years old now. What would the two Leias do? Would they run and play and become the best of friends? Perhaps she and Breha would chatter away over tea in the gardens while the children played. And he—

Vader groaned rather unceremoniously as needles and pins struck at him from inside his biomechanoid joints. A dark flitter ran across his bones, and Vader realised he had let his mind wander again. Yes, Master, he sneered in response, although he knew the old monster would not be able to hear him.

Vader returned his attention to the negotiating table where men of office quibbled like women at a tea party. His gloved hand made a fist, and with the ferocity of his mind, he struck the solid duracrete table through the Force. The grand table trembled and shook, then cracked along the centre.

All heads turned, their attention focused on the dark-masked man, awaiting his command.

"Why do you dawdle, gentlemen?" he spat in response. "Surely you don't need an Imperial blockade to your trade routes to make you see reason?" His voice raised in a suggestive question mark, leaving no doubt of his intentions for expediting matters.

A spattering of "No, Lord Vader," echoed in murmurs across the room and then fell silent, leaving the only sound of Vader's steely breath to seal the agreement.