A first attempt at Star Wars fanfiction, with full knowledge that some of the characters are definitely not acting the way they are supposed to. A result of crazy ideas that seemed funny and striking enough to an insomniac at two in the morning

Disclaimer: don't own anything

Hello There!

Darth Vader sat alone in the carefully maintained environment of his pressurized chamber aboard the Executor, helmet removed and breathing rhythmic but labored. It had been a long day, and he sorely needed the respite. He closed his eyes, intent on slipping into the state of deep relaxation he used as a substitute for sleep, beginning the process of consciously relaxing every single one of his muscles.

"Hello there!" a cheery voice called from only a few feet to his left.

Oh no… no, no, no, no… It couldn't be. He knew that voice, that infuriatingly cheerful greeting. A knot formed in his stomach and every muscle he had succeeded in relaxing immediately tensed up. He opened one eye, dreading what he would see and directed toward left to find…

"Kenobi!" he exclaimed, turning his head and snapping both eyes open so quickly that it would have cricked a normal man's neck and caused Vader a stab of pain. He knew that Kenobi was exactly who he had planned on seeing, but nevertheless surprised to encounter his dead master.

"Of course," the glowing figure replied happily, seeming quite pleased with himself. It stood but a few feet to Darth Vader's left. "You didn't think I was joking when I said 'If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can ever imagine' did you?" the specter chuckled smugly. "You should know better, my old padawan."

Vader groaned to himself. "Wonderful," he drawled dryly, "the last hope of the Jedi is an annoying old ghost whose grand plan to defeat the empire is to haunt me forever and drive me to insanity."

His sarcasm surprised even himself. It had been years since his speech was used for anything other than giving orders, making threats or acquiescing to the Emperor. Well, to be fair, it had been a difficult day. Wasn't it enough that his master's pride and joy, the Death Star, had been destroyed by those infuriating rebel idiots? No, obviously not. It seemed that he would be doomed to spend the rest of his days reliving the lectures of his old master which were infinitely more boring and lengthy than those of his new one. Yes, that settled it, the Force must have forsaken him completely. Time to relinquish the title of a Sith Lord and cast his lot among the force-blind.

"Don't be stupid, Darth," the old man said, interrupting Vader's mental tirade. "That most certainly is NOT my goal in afterlife. In fact, I'm not here to annoy you at all. I've come with information that you sorely seek to know."

Vader straightened at his words. There was only one thing he yearned to know at the moment: the origin of the Force-strong pilot, the one who had destroyed the Death Star.

"Tell me, old man," he commanded, regaining some of his usual bravado.

"As you wish," Obi-wan replied calmly, unfazed by Vader's intimidation. "The boy is force-strong, as you have already discovered for yourself. So strong that the only logical explanation for his abilities is that he is descended from a Jedi."

Vader seemed confused for a second, tilting his pale and deformed head sideways, apparently deep in thought. The sight would have been comical had he not been the second most feared man in the galaxy. Suddenly, a triumphant expression appeared on his face and he cried in comprehension "Aha! I understand your meaning."

"Excellent," said Obi-wan curtly, "Then I want you to remember something that you have long forgotten, something you once held dear and… why are you smirking at me like that?"

For Darth Vader was indeed smirking at his old master, rather like a child would smirk condescendingly at a particularly stupid but entertaining pet.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," Vader gloated.

"What?" Obi-wan asked, utterly confused.

"Who was it Kenobi?" Vader continued, still smirking triumphantly, practically crowing with enthusiasm. "Were you seduced by that Twi'lek knight with lustrous blue skin? Or was it some random tramp you took after a long day's work? Look at how corrupt the Jedi were. Even their masters ignored their own codes! I guess even the great protectors of the Republic –"

"Darth, the child isn't mine, he's yours!" Obi-wan interrupted fiercely, finally catching on to Vader's allegations.

"Oh," the Dark Lord replied shortly, feeling a bit stupid.

In the period of extended silence that followed as he absorbed this news, his visage changed from one of smug victory to a contortion of hatred and shock.

"You," he spat, his voice losing the vestiges of mirth it had shown just seconds before. "You kept him from me."

Vader's rage flowed through him, he used his mind to channel it, to make himself a conduit for the Dark Side of the Force. He raised his bare mechanical hand, directing it at the ghost of Kenobi and curling its fingers into a deadly choke hold.

"Your betraying and maiming me wasn't enough for you, was it my master?" he said, placing sarcastic emphasis on the last word just as he had done so many years ago on Mustafar. "You had to make yourself truly me enemy by robbing me of my most prized possession, my own flesh and blood!"

"Listen to you yourself!" Obi-wan countered in disgust. "You cling to old grudges, you let your hatred mold you, you refer to your own son as a possession, and for god's sake man, you're trying to choke a ghost!"

Vader too had realized the futility of his actions and allowed his hand to drop back to his side, but his fury did not retreat.

"I'd think you would have more consideration than to refer to anyone as a possession, given your experience as a slave," Obi-wan continued.

"That experience is part of another person, one who no longer exists," Vader answered, his natural voice as monotone and unperturbed as his mechanical one. "I am no longer Anakin Skywalker. I have become something far greater, unfettered by his petty sense of morality." He spat out the last word with as much hatred and contempt as he could muster.

"Then why care about being separated from his son?" Obi-wan inquired sagely.

Vader fell silent, unable to come up with a retort. However, it was only a few seconds before he managed to grasp at the remaining strands of his ebbing anger and realign himself with the Dark Side.

"He is vital to the fate of the Sith," Vader replied. "Now that I know of his existence he will join me and we will rule the galaxy as father and son. He will be educated in the ways of a Dark Side and become formidable tool to myself and my master. Another Sith Lord will be born."

"What about the rule of two?"

"That is of no consequence to the situation at present," Vader scorned. "The rule of two was for preserving our numbers when the Jedi hunted us and demanded our extinction. It was necessary for survival. The Jedi order is long dead. You yourself are proof of that, a once formidable warrior reduced to a cliché-spouting old ghost who lacks the ability to influence his surroundings."

"The Emperor will want him dead," Obi-wan asserted.

"The Emperor will see the wisdom in training him!" Vader growled.

"And if the boy refuses to be turned?"

Once more, Vader faltered.

"If he refuses, I will kill him," he said without any real conviction.

"That is a lie," Obi-wan accused quietly.

Vader offered no response.

"This is why I have chosen to give you this knowledge," Obi-wan continued. "In my death I have seen that there is more to you than you would have other believe, Darth Vader, or that I myself believed while I was alive. You have become a twisted and evil shadow of your former self, but that person and the good in him live on. Those were your wife's last words. That boy is the galaxy's last hope and your last hope … Anakin."

It had been twenty years since his old mentor had called him that name and since anyone had mentioned his wife. Something broke in his subconscious, if only for a moment, the man named Anakin Skywalker had resurfaced. With the Emperor far away, and unable to sense his emotions, Darth Vader let a tear roll down his cheek.

"See to it that you make the right decision about your son, Anakin Skywalker," Obi-wan finished, and faded from Vader's side into nothingness, leaving the latter to consider the conversation that had just transpired.

Vader wiped the tear furiously from his face, enraged at how easily he had been affected by his former mentor's words. Hatred and anger soon controlled him. The boy would be trained in the dark side and given a place in the Sith Order, rule of two be damned. There was nothing to fear.

And if he refused… well then Vader would search for other options. He had not failed to find a solution to any problem yet, and he would certainly not fail when it came to his own son.

"Oh, by the way," said the spirit of Obi-wan, popping back into existence. "If this whole 'last hope' business doesn't work out, that haunting you until the end of time deal is always a very appealing option to me."

Vader scowled as the old man disappeared again, a smug smile sitting upon his face.