Cold Mountain

Chapter 2

From the moment he had found out Padme was still alive, Vader had acted on instinct. And he had not snapped out of it until he had been greeted by the stunned expressions of his pilots upon his return to the shuttle.

They had asked no questions – they knew better. Yet Vader could sense the curiosity that burned within them. He knew that as soon as they docked, the sole topic of conversation in all Rec Rooms would be the woman and child Vader himself had carried to his shuttle.

Still, it had felt so good to hold her in his arms once more!

Now she was sitting, holding Leia close. Her wounded shoulder still bled sluggishly. Vader frowned, rising from his seat opposite her. Moving deftly, he fetched a wad of cloth and a small jar of bacta salve from the first aid kit.

When he approached to sit beside her, she flinched away. He stopped abruptly. The dark blush that crept up her cheeks told him it was unintentional; but she did not meet his gaze. It was obvious that she did not trust him.

And no wonder... you tried to kill her.

"Your shoulder is still bleeding," he told her matter-of-factly. "You will receive treatment once we reach the Exactor, of course. But bites are prone to infection, and need to be cleaned as soon as possible."

Padme held out her hand. "Give me the bacta, then. I can do it myself."

"No, you can't. Not while you're holding Leia."

Padme's face bore a look Anakin knew well – pure determination. With a sigh, he gave up the argument and walked to the cockpit.

"You," he ordered the co-pilot, "come with me."

Padme watched with guarded curiosity as Vader returned with the soldier in tow.

"You are competent at field medicine?" Vader demanded shortly.

"Of course, my Lord," replied the man.

Vader directed his gaze at Padme. "If you will not let me treat you, will you permit one of my men?"

After a moment of hesitation, she nodded her consent.

To the pilot, Vader commanded, "The wound on her shoulder. She was bitten, and it needs cleaning."

The man nodded. "'At once, my Lord." Snapping a salute, he slid onto the seat beside Padme. Clearly aware of Vader's watchful eye on him, he kept his gaze focussed on his patient. "This may hurt, ma'am," he warned her. Everything that had passed so far told him that she was Someone Important, despite her ragged dress.

At her nod, he swiped some bacta onto the cloth, then very gently pressed it to the wound.

True to the man's warning, it stung. A sharp hiss of breath and a slight clenching of her hands – both involuntary – were Padme's only reactions. But Leia complained vocally at the sudden pressure.

The pilot hesitated, pulling away slightly, unsure of what to do. The woman was rocking her body in an attempt to calm the child, which would make treating her wound more difficult.

He would scarcely have credited what happened next if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

Vader dropped to one knee, putting himself on the same level as the seated woman, and reached out his hands. The woman froze, eyes widening, as she stared at him. It seemed almost as if a form of silent communication passed between the pair, because the woman gave the slightest of nods, and passed the child into the Sith's hands.

She continued to gaze anxiously as Vader stood, settling the infant against his chest, a surprisingly gentle hand caressing the dark curls.

He knew he was staring, but the pilot couldn't tear his eyes away. The tenderness Vader was displaying was incredible.

But that was not the most astonishing thing, he found. In Vader's arms, the child's crying eased, and she soon lay peacefully. A tiny hand began waving at the array of flashing lights on the Dark Lord's chest.

Padme stared at Vader. He was so gentle, so tender as he held Leia. He was enchanted by her; he loved her. She swallowed back tears as she was struck by an unexpected thought.

Ani would have made such a good father.

She was forced to close her eyes against the tears.

The pilot, wary of attracting his lord's wrath, forced himself into action. Resuming his ministrations, he studied his patient. She was exquisitely beautiful, with porcelain skin and cascading mahogany curls. But she had an air of infinite sadness about her as she gazed at Vader and her baby with soulful eyes.

Sadness, the pilot mused, but not fear? She trusts that Lord Vader won't hurt the child. But she doesn't trust him – Vader said wouldn't allow him – to treat her wound...

Quite firmly, he clamped down on that train of thought. He wasn't quite sure if the rumours that Vader could read minds were true, but all the same, he'd rather not take chances.

Swiftly, he finished cleaning the wound. "I won't bandage it, ma'am. We'll be back at the ship shortly, and I'm sure the medics are going to look at it."

The beautiful lady favoured him with a wan smile and he suddenly felt like a schoolboy with a crush.

Oh, damn. This can't be good...

Standing and turning away, he saluted Vader. The Sith looked up, and acknowledged him with a nod. As the black-gloved hand paused in its gentle stroking of her hair, Leia pounced, catching one of the fingers in her little fist. Vader's attention was drawn to her once more as the she drew it into her mouth.

Oh, stars... he thought, as he beat a hasty retreat to the cockpit. No one's gonna believe this...