Warnings: Violence, Death.
Disclaimer: In case it wasn't obvious, I'm not George Lucas, so I own nothing. I make no money on this.
Beta-Readers: The brilliant, flawless, and all around swell Penumbra and the superb, beautiful, and wise Furiosity.
Notes: This is set during the Intertrilogy and post-ESB time periods. Some EU is used.

The planet Koress was a quiet one. It was as rocky and barren as the Jundland Wastelands, only far colder. Its sky seemed unusually bright, even for such a desolate planet. Gray rocks dotted the landscape, reaching out towards the sky like fearsome beasts clawing at the nothingness for one last gasp of air. A small homestead smoldered gently in the distance, the fire that had been set dying out quickly in the chilly Koress atmosphere.

The wind blew with seeming trepidation around Darth Vader, as though it feared him like the rest of the galaxy did. His black cape billowed around him in a manner that might have been romantic, had he been less terrifying to look upon. The light from the large, silver moon glinted off his black helmet and body armor much like light on a still lake. In the distance, a creature howled in reminiscence of something large and lupine. Something deep inside Vader, something that was once called Anakin Skywalker, wanted to howl with it.

A young girl was on her knees before him, gasping for breath as he choked her with the Force. Vader had been through this more times than he could count, especially with Padawan Learners like her. They would cry and scream and curse his existence. Sometimes they even begged for mercy. He had none to give them, not any more. Maybe he'd never even had any to begin with.

Captain Thrawn stood over the dead body of her master; Thrawn's blaster was still smoking. Vader had to admit he was impressed with Thrawn. The strange Chiss had managed to single-handedly kill a Jedi Master with one shot from a simple blaster - a Jedi Master that had just managed to give Vader some difficulty and cut through at least a dozen stormtroopers, no less. Vader made a mental note to not only keep an eye on Thrawn, but to make sure he learned more about him.

"Please, please, please don't kill me," the girl sobbed. She looked to be about thirteen. Her hair was stark white, reminding Vader of the sand blasted bones he used to find on Tatooine; she looked near-human. Vader vaguely remembered her, running through the halls of the Jedi Temple when she should have been walking. He remembered her giggling and blushing in his presence, whispering to one of the other Padawans about how handsome he was. She had not been at the temple during the Great Jedi Purge, however. She and her master, Dori Ran, had been deployed to the Outer Rim, and they had somehow evaded the clone trooper attacks when Order 66 had been executed. She had to have been about ten then, if he recalled correctly.

Three years. Had it really been three years? It felt like eons had passed him by, stars had gone supernova, since he had walked out the smoking, ruined Jedi Temple.

Vader's lightsaber thrummed insistently in his hand, pulling him out of his memories. Its red glow gave the girl's features a rather sinister cast. He could sense Thrawn moving closer; Vader raised his weapon, preparing to decapitate the Padawan. She shut her eyes and sobbed harder. Her face suddenly reminded him of the crumpled expression on...

On...

... Padmé's face.

He hesitated.

The next moments were a blur. The girl reached out with the Force, summoning her dead master's lightsaber to her, her movements quick as lightning. Thrawn shot her in the chest even before the lightsaber came to her hand, his movements careful and measured, yet as fast as the Padawan. She stumbled back, avoiding Vader's lightsaber blow literally by a hair's breadth. Vader reached out with his other hand, sending a Force wave towards her. She flew back, her small body crashing into a rock, but she was still moving.

Thrawn shot at her again, but she blocked his shots with her master's lightsaber and ran towards him, apparently intent on avenging her master's death. Vader moved towards her and in two great strides, closed the distance between them. She was bringing the lightsaber down on Thrawn, but the Chiss didn't even bat an eye as Vader cut through her slim arm with his own weapon before she could do any harm.

The girl screamed and fell back, her severed limb landing on the dusty ground. Thrawn turned his baleful red eyes on Vader, nodding ever so slightly. He raised his blaster again, aiming for her chest.

Instead of bothering to say anything, Vader held up a hand and crushed Thrawn's blaster. Thrawn dropped the ruined weapon, but when he looked up at Vader, he was still as cool as the frozen wastelands of Hoth. His gaze was intent. "Why did you do that?" Instead of being hostile or angry, he seemed genuinely curious.

Thrawn was a dangerous man, Vader thought, but one worthy of respect. "She has uses," he answered, trying not to think about how much she reminded him of Padmé, curled up on the ground and unconscious. Even though there was no physical resemblance, her facial expressions mirrored Padmé's. He was glad for his dark mask suddenly. He had never been good at hiding his emotions, but now the mask hid everything, even what remained of his humanity. He found his flesh distracting at times, and far preferred the stability and calm of his machine parts. "I do want know how she survived your blaster shot, however."

"She's a Marjellan. They're quite tough," said Thrawn, watching the girl with an expression that made dispassion seem too strong a word. Vader imagined if the man had been a Jedi, he would have put even Yoda to shame in emotional control - if Thrawn even had any emotions. Vader decided that he and Thrawn couldn't have been more different if they tried.

A fresh contingent of stormtroopers arrived, as loud and messy as a detonator, to replace the small group that Dori Ran had killed before he had finally been struck down by Thrawn. Vader motioned to the girl. "Take her back to the ship and put her in a bacta tank."

"Yes, my Lord," said one of troopers and they moved towards the girl, picking her up and taking her to the shuttle.

"I'm not familiar with the Marjellans," said Vader, indicating with a wave of his gloved hand that Thrawn should walk beside him. Thrawn did so, and though he should have looked honored, he only gave a slight smile.

"They are a humanoid race from the planet Marjella. They have two hearts. Apart from decapitation, destroying both hearts is the best way to kill them, otherwise they will regenerate their health."

"Then she can heal the wounds we gave her?"

Thrawn nodded his head. "She will re-grow that arm in a few days, though she is incapable of re-growing her hearts."

Vader turned to Thrawn, who was walking with grace and an unhurried manner with his arms clasped behind his back. Thrawn exuded military bearing, and his expression was as neutral as space itself. His blue skin blended into the dark of the night and had it not been for Vader's optical sensors, he probably would have not been able to see him so easily.

"How are you so familiar with her race?"

"Their home planet is near my own. My people have been to war with theirs in the past, and their unique physical abilities made them a difficult conquest. Their unpredictability has also made them equally difficult to keep under control. I made it my job to understand everything I could about them."

"That's very interesting, Captain." Vader spent a moment reflecting on how Thrawn had managed to defeat a Jedi Master on his own. "I'm most impressed by your work back there with the Jedi."

"It was a simple matter. By watching how the Jedi fought the stormtroopers, I was able to predict how he would move. The girl was more unpredictable, due to her inexperience and desperation."

Vader decided to not allow Thrawn the chance to study him in battle. Vader was confident enough that he could repel any attack, but there was no sense in giving Thrawn any sort of edge. Thrawn fell silent as they boarded the shuttle that would take them back to his ship. It was hardly routine for a captain to accompany a field team, but Thrawn had insisted that he wanted to see Vader's battle prowess for himself. He was nothing if not unusual; the fact that he had managed to rise in rank with the Emperor's policies against non-humans was testimony to his unusual nature.

"Why are you keeping her?" asked Thrawn, watching as a stormtrooper tied the girl down to a hovering stretcher and hooked a medical unit to her arm. Vader noticed skin had already started to grow over the wound. Thrawn had not lied about her regenerative abilities.

"The Emperor wishes for a small selection of Force-sensitive children to train. She may be useful to him."

"And if she isn't?"

"Then she will die."

"You are a man of harsh absolutes, Lord Vader."

Vader crossed his arms, trying not to think of Obi-Wan Kenobi saying something similar to him when they had last met. The thought of his last confrontation with Obi-Wan filled him not with the fury it had even a year ago, but with a dull ache in his chest. Vader's rage had subsided after Padmé's death, and though perhaps not as acutely, all he felt for Obi-Wan was the same sense of loss he felt for Padmé. His former master was dead to him, for Vader had nothing left to give to Obi-Wan but death.

Vader forced his mind back to the present and he wondered if Thrawn had meant to insult him. Vader glanced at him, but Thrawn had fallen silent and was standing by the shuttle's helm, gazing out the window as his ship came into view. It was difficult to feel anything from the Chiss. A part of Vader was jealous of that; Thrawn had a form of self-control that Vader could never possess, despite his best attempts at it.

Vader followed the stormtroopers to the medical bay when they arrived, leaving Thrawn to captain his ship. He watched silently as they loaded the girl into the bacta tank. After a while, he prodded her mind with the Force, feeling her wake up as the last cable was hooked up and the bacta liquid filled the tank. She pounded uselessly against the glass with her fist. He could feel her surprise at being alive; he could also feel her fear - strong fear.

The fear of loss is a path to the dark side.

Yoda's voice filled Vader's mind before he could push it away, resentment boiling up inside him and filling him like an injection of malice. He took a noisy breath and focused on the girl, making contact with her mind.

Who are you? she asked, her fear growing inside of her like a cancer.

His burnt lips twisted into a cruel smile behind his mask. He filled her mind with images of himself, walking through the Jedi Temple hallway as she raced past him, giggling. He showed her images of herself through his eyes, as she peered around a corner at him, blushing and mumbling a "hello." He showed her as he walked into the Temple with a battalion of clone troopers, destroying all the Jedi he found there. He showed her how they had fallen under his lightsaber like toys... even the younglings. He made sure to show her the memories he had of the charred bodies of her fellow Padawans.

Her mental howl of rage and loss caused him to stagger, even though he was prepared for it.

TRAITOR! MONSTER! I'LL KILL YOU! she screamed.

Yes, he told her, hate me. Fear me. Rage at me.

YOU MURDERING MONSTER! YOU FILTHY, DISEASED SON OF A WHORE!

A flash of hot anger seared Vader's consciousness at that last insult, snaking up along his spine and into his mind as quickly as a flash fire. He reached out with the Force and sent a bolt of pain so severe through the girl's body that she contorted and the bacta tank cracked.

Don't ever insult my mother again, he told her, holding back his internal roar of rage and focusing it into carefully measured words. Control, he would find control, no matter what. Enough control that the next time he crossed lightsabers with Obi-Wan, he would defeat the Jedi Master. Blood trickled out of the girl's eyes from the pure hatred he poured into her, before he realized he had lost control again.

He pounded her body through the bacta tank in his frustration, the tank shattering as she flew out of it. He slammed her into the wall behind it, holding her in place for a moment before letting her slide down. Thrawn was right about her race being tough. Instead of passing out, she curled up into a ball and shook.

One of the medical droids turned to him. "Lord Vader, we cannot -"

After he crushed the droid's head, he turned to the second medical droid. "Repair the bacta tank and heal her new wounds as well."

The second medical droid did not question him.

Three days later, Vader stood before Emperor Palpatine, the Padawan girl in front of him. He kept a gloved hand on both of her shoulders, in case she tried to run. She shook before him, her rage and frustration for not being able to kill Vader flowing off of her like heat from a star. It somehow pleased Vader to know that it was he, not the Emperor, who was causing this.

The Emperor's Palace was large and opulent. Rich golds, greens, and blues swirled elegantly throughout the decor. There was a circular, spiraling design to the archways and framing of the room. Large windows showed Coruscant itself, the gleaming metropolis looking somehow darker than Vader recalled, as though a shadow had been cast over it. Outside on the terrace, the Emperor's Hand pretended to be practicing with the Force, though Vader sensed she was actually listening to everything that was being said. For a four-year-old, she was remarkably astute.

"What is your name, youngling?" the Emperor asked the Padawan girl, his twisted, aged face set into a grin that even Vader found intimidating.

"Nonja pock topha," she spat. Vader wasn't familiar with her language, but what she had said sounded quite rude.

Vader gripped her shoulders, using the Force to make her choke and gasp for breath as though his hands had been around her neck. He let go after the Emperor motioned at him. She coughed, gripping her throat. Her anger and hatred grew, just as her new arm had grown. She would be an easy conquest for the dark side.

"We'll try this again. What is your name?" the Emperor asked her again. His voice was as cracked as the crystal shards of Vespa.

"Mali," she coughed.

"Your surname?" The Emperor's tone was almost polite, which Vader had learned was a sure sign of his impatience.

"My people have no surnames."

The Emperor cackled, his face showing whatever malicious glee he took from corrupting younglings. "Now we're getting along. Yes, your hate and anger are strong - very strong. You have potential, young Mali."

Vader removed his hands from her shoulders, feeling the girl's sense of fear returning full force as she gazed into the evil yellow eyes of Darth Sidious. The Emperor looked up and nodded at him. "You may leave, Lord Vader. Young Mali and I shall have a nice talk now. You've done well in bringing me another suitable youngling."

Vader bowed to him as gracefully as his suit would allow and took a step back from Mali. She half-turned towards him, her face twisted with loathing.

"I will always hate you, traitor," she hissed.

"Good," he said and turned away, his black cloak trailing behind him as he strode out of the room.

To his surprise, he found Thrawn standing in the richly decorated hallway, staring out of a window. Only Thrawn could stand at parade rest and make it look like he was at attention.

"Captain Thrawn. What are you doing here?"

Thrawn turned to him, taking a moment before answering. "Looking for you, Lord Vader."

Vader paused. "And why is that?" he asked, tensing and making sure he could easily draw his lightsaber.

"I was going to ask you to lunch, but I doubt you eat in the conventional manner. Instead, I thought you might wish to join me at the Coruscant Galleria. There's a new exhibition featuring the artwork of the Lady Niienne of Alderaan."

Was Thrawn trying to make friends with him? Vader was again quite grateful for his mask, as it hid his surprise. He wondered why Thrawn was doing it, and then remembered that he had saved Thrawn's life. Perhaps this was Thrawn's way of showing gratitude. Vader considered how to answer.

"You enjoy museums?"

Thrawn nodded, smiling. "Art is one of my two passions, my Lord."

Though dubious as to whether Thrawn had any passions at all, Vader still asked, "What is the other?"

"Combat."

"Interesting. I don't have time for such diversions."

Thrawn dipped his head like a peko-peko diving for fish. "Very well, then. Would you instead care to walk with me to the entrance, Lord Vader?" he asked, his tone polite. Vader nodded after a moment and fell into step with Thrawn. Though he did not walk with Vader's determined stride, he moved quickly, despite the seeming calm of his movements.

"You used the girl's own hatred and anger for her master's death against her. You used her own suffering to turn her to the dark side, did you not?" Thrawn asked after a moment.

"Yes," answered Vader after a brief moment. Thrawn's perception was a thing of beauty.

Thrawn smiled. "I am impressed. You are as formidable as they say you are, my Lord. And quite brilliant, I must add."

Formidable.

Vader decided that he liked that description.

There were times when Vader disliked constantly being in space. The thrum of the Behemoth's engines annoyed him for no good reason. The Star Destroyer was poorly built in comparison to some of the others. Its noise distracted him, and the red glow of the artificial lighting, despite being filtered through the oculars of his mask, still gave him a headache.

Usually when hunting Jedi, Vader had to track them down. Yet sometimes, they came to him. The Jedi were fools, and they often thought they could do what the others never managed: they thought they could defeat him. There was only one man who had ever truly defeated Vader, and when he would eventually - nay, inevitably - find Obi-Wan Kenobi, Vader would be the one to walk away victorious.

The young Jedi, a man with whom Vader had trained as a Padawan so many years ago was already dead. He just hadn't quite yet accepted the fact. Despite the fact that Vader had removed him of the burden of the lower half of his body, he insisted on trying to breathe and kept reaching for his fallen lightsaber. Vader cut his head off, the feel of his lightsaber on flesh rather satisfying. As the body of the man stilled, Vader tried to remember his name and failed. It didn't matter now, none of them mattered. Their time had passed.

The other Jedi, an old man named Kaope, was picking himself off the floor, yellow lightsaber in hand. Vader remembered him well. Kaope had been one of the Jedi Masters that had been evading him for the past six years. Kaope and the other Jedi had sought him out when Vader had abducted Kaope's niece. He knew it would draw them out. She was dead now, having been too troublesome to keep, but they hadn't known that when they had boarded the Behemoth. They were delusional fools, coming to save a corpse, only to join the child in death.

Vader sensed someone behind Kaope and realized it was Mali. He took a step back, avoiding Kaope's wild lightsaber swing, expecting Mali to stab the Jedi Master in the back with her own lightsaber. She had been well-trained, and Palpatine had sent her with Vader to on this latest mission, so that she could learn more.

Instead of attacking Kaope, Mali leapt past him, her green lightsaber swinging down on Vader. He brought his own lightsaber up to meet hers, just in time. In the space of three years, she'd grown to be quite fast, and the weight of his mostly durasteel body was starting to slow him down. Even so, she was no match for him. He used the Force to throw her across the bay and slammed her into a wall, hearing a nasty crack that signified he'd broken something. He held her there, pressed into the wall. Kaope swung at him, but Vader blocked him with his lightsaber, letting Mali slide down to the ground. She was determined to kill him, and he had to respect her tenacity, at least. If she had been any better at it, he might have even become angry.

Killing Jedi had become rather boring for Vader over the years. They all died so easily and fell so swiftly before him. He wasn't as fast as he had once been, but was still faster than any of them. Kaope made another lunge, his yellow lightsaber thrumming with the old man's frustration. Vader brought his lightsaber down on Kaope's, pressing down with all his might, the noise like thunder through the audio filters of his helmet. With a flick of his wrist, Vader disarmed Kaope, and the Jedi's lightsaber went flying into the air.

"No!" Kaope cried, trying to push him back by using the Force. Vader blocked that as well, and reached out and grabbed Kaope by the throat, choking him.

As the old man's breathing was cut off and he made pathetic gargling noises, Vader motioned with the hand that still held his lightsaber at one of the computer screens embedded in a wall nearby. It turned on with a soft hum, showing the medical bay. Lying on one of the stretchers was the body of a young girl, her brown hair fanned across the cold white pillows; her face frozen in mortal terror. Kaope stopped resisting him when he saw the image of the girl, and tears poured down his parched face. Vader sensed Kaope's feeling of failure. Kaope now knew his niece was dead, and so was he. Vader relished his misery.

"This is what happens to those who resist the power of the dark side and the will of the Empire," Vader hissed. He raised his lightsaber and lightly ran it over the side of the man's face. It took a moment for Kaope to give in and scream as his face burned and crisped. Had he retained his sense of smell, Vader imagined he would smell the rancid, almost sweet scent of burned flesh in the air. He rubbed his lightsaber on the other side of the man's face, enjoying the sound of his screams.

Vader glanced at the wall next from him, staring at the escape pod entrance. He used the Force to open the door and threw Kaope across the room, flinging him into the pod. Vader followed him at his usual pace, slowly approaching the hatch door as Kaope tried to summon his lightsaber back. It flew towards them, but Vader caught it in mid-air and snapped it in half. Kaope gave a strange sort of noise that sounded partway between a sob and a whimper, yet Vader knew it to be neither as the old man tried to speak. Behind his mask, Vader sneered at Kaope's weakness.

Mali was approaching them, limping. Her leg was broken, but it appeared to already be healing. She had wisely turned her lightsaber off, and was watching Kaope with trepidation.

"You monster!" screamed Kaope. Words were the only weapons left to him, but Vader was immune to the vitriol. "You murdering piece of filth!"

Vader hit the button on the panel, causing the pod's hatch to slam shut, and the escape pod shot off the side of the ship. Vader turned and reached towards Mali, dragging her in front of him. He switched on a nearby monitor to show the inside of the pod. As Kaope stared back at them from the screen, his burned, twisted face seemed eerily reminiscent of Vader's own.

"Kill him as the Emperor taught you. Crush his heart with the power of the Force," Vader ordered.

Mali paled, her light brown skin looking sickly. Her hands shook. "I - I can't-"

"Kill him, and I won't punish you as I did the last time you tried to kill me."

She trembled for a moment, no doubt remembering the torture device he had tested on her last time. It would be useful for interrogations and thanks to her regenerative abilities, they had been able to perfect the flow of electrical currents through it. He gripped her wrist tightly, in danger of crushing her bones. "Do it," he ordered.

Mali swallowed and stared at the image of the old man on the screen. He was trying to turn off the monitor in the escape pod, but the control devices weren't in the pod. Vader watched her concentrate, watch her try to do as he had ordered. Sweat poured down her brow and she sighed and her knees buckled; she screamed as she fell on her broken leg. Kaope was still alive. Mali apparently lacked the power to use the Force over such a great distance. "It's... too much," she said, looking fearful as she glanced up.

Vader reached a gloved hand out and gripped the air, envisioning through the Force that he had Kaope's heart in his hand. He could feel Kaope's heartbeat, could feel the pulse of his life, could feel him seize up as Vader ran a thumb over the heart in his mind's eye. He closed his fist in a swift motion and on the screen Kaope made a loud gasp and tumbled forward. Vader felt the Jedi's life ebb away and then turned to Mali.

"You will never appreciate the power of the dark side, it seems. That is how you use the Force. Your weakness, your hesitation, will be your death. You don't have the power to kill me, and you never will. I will let you live because your pathetic attempts to assassinate me are actually rather amusing." It was inevitable that one day, he would destroy the Emperor, and at that point, he had hoped to take an apprentice. This girl would never do; perhaps he would find another that was worthy.

Vader turned on his heel and strode away from Mali, making a note to have the stormtroopers take her out of her bed tonight so they could further test the new torture device. She wasn't even worth killing; Vader would use her as he would use a bounty hunter.

As he strode away, he could hear her mutter under her breath. "Heartless bastard."

Vader smiled behind his mask.

She never tried to kill him again.

Luke Skywalker froze, feeling the cold pressure of an unlit lightsaber against his back. The Dark Jedi, Mali, had found him.

He was in one of the cold, gloomy hallways of the Imperial outpost on Koress, trying to find more information on the man known as Darth Vader. The man who had proclaimed to be his father in the middle of the windswept city of Bespin not even two weeks ago.

The small outpost had only a skeleton crew working for it and Luke and his partner, Princess Leia Organa, had been able to knock most of them unconscious. The lights were out - Leia must have cut the power - and only the cold light of the large silver moon outside illuminated the darkened hallway. Luke heard a wolf-like creature howl in the distance, and marveled how the noise managed to pierce through the thick glass windows.

There had been rumors that a Dark Jedi in the service of Palpatine was one of the people sent out to hunt him down since he had escaped Bespin. It now seemed that the rumors were true.

"Hands up," a woman's voice said.

Luke raised both hands, painfully aware of his new robotic one, and turned his face to the side so he could look behind him. He caught a glimpse of a near-human woman with stark white hair and twisted, corrupted features. She was smiling in a way that reminded Luke of a krayt dragon preparing for dinner. Luke immediately thought of Leia. She was supposed to be looking through records in another part of the outpost. He hoped Mali hadn't found Leia first and his heart clenched when he thought of Leia being hurt or worse.

"You're Luke Skywalker." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Luke replied anyway as Mali took his lightsaber and his blaster away and threw them to the side. Her unlit lightsaber remained pressed to his back.

"This is a wonderful development. The Emperor will be pleased when I bring you in when Vader has failed to do so."

"I'm sure he will be," Luke said, feeling for the vibroblade hidden in his right sleeve. He remembered Han Solo's words of wisdom, given to him while they had been working together on Hoth. Be prepared for anything, kid. Always carry a little something extra on you, if you know what I mean.

"I can't wait to see how Vader will react." She spoke Vader's name with more hate than any rebel ever had in Luke's experience.

"I think..." Luke trailed off, twisting his mechanical wrist ever so slightly, so that the hilt of the vibroblade slid into his hand.

"Yes?"

"I think... that you talk too much."

Luke twisted around as fast as he could, ducking away from her. She turned on her lightsaber just as he was moving out of range, the green glow casting a sickly pallor on her face. Luke held his hand up and the glowing blade somehow bounced off the air without even touching him. Without pausing to think about how he had managed that, Luke surged forward with the grace of a Twi'lek dancer. He punched the vibroblade into her chest, striking her directly in the heart. She fell back against the dark metal wall and slipped awkwardly down it. Dark blood dripped down her white gown and when she coughed, blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth. Luke swallowed, feeling guilty.

She gurgled and coughed up more blood, staring up at him with a cruel smile on her face for some reason. He stared back, unsure of what to say. She was going to die soon, he could feel it.

"You will kill Vader... won't you?" she coughed. "I tried... but I wasn't strong enough."

Luke closed his eyes, shuddering at her words. His father. Darth Vader. Everyone wanted Luke to kill him, even Vader's own allies. When he re-opened his eyes, Mali's lifeless orange eyes stared back at him, opened wide in her death. Luke wondered why she had hated Vader so much. What had he done to her? Luke reached out after a moment and closed her eyes. Leia rounded the corner just then, a blaster in hand.

"Luke! Are you all right?" she asked, moving closer and glancing down at Mali in curiosity.

"Fine. Can't say the same for her, though."

Leia gripped his shoulder in concern. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."

"It was close, that's all," Luke lied.

Leia drew her brows together but said nothing. She crouched down to examine Mali's body. "She's a Marjellan. I don't understand why she's dead, they have two hearts and regenerative abilities. They're tough."

Luke shrugged as Leia pulled open the dead woman's gown to reveal her chest. Next to where the vibroblade was stuck, a darkened scar lay to the right. "Someone had already destroyed her other heart. I wonder who?" asked Leia.

"We didn't have to time to chat about battle wounds, otherwise I would have asked," Luke responded. Leia gave him a sharp look and he offered her a sheepish smile until she looked away.

He picked up his weapons and holstered the blaster, but decided to leave the lightsaber in hand. He tried not to think too much about Vader, not right now. Every time he did, something inside of him ached with loss. He felt a certain sense of guilt over Vader, as though he had been the one to stand there and realize the man he loved had turned into a monster while he had ignored all the signs.

The man he loved?

The image of a beautiful brunette backing away in fear from a blond man flashed into Luke's mind. They were on a world of fire and lava, a world that seemed to seethe with fury. The blond man reminded Luke strangely of himself, but the man's eyes... his face had been corrupted by hate and anger, and these ugly emotions were visible on his face. The woman, however, reminded Luke of Leia as the women shared the same intense beauty, yet she was lacking Leia's strength. The brunette shook her head at the man, tears streaming down her face. Luke saw that she was pregnant... pregnant with...

... himself. There was something else, something he was missing, but he couldn't -

"Luke!"

He blinked and saw Leia - he noticed again how much she looked like the woman in his vision - standing before him, shaking him by the shoulders. "Luke, we have to go! One of the Imperial soldiers has triggered an alarm. Let's go!"

He nodded and ran after Leia, feeling his heart break for the woman in his vision. He could feel her guilt and her loss as though it was his own. She felt so close to him, as though he knew her somehow. As Luke ran, he briefly saw a vision of her wincing and holding what looked to be a young Obi-Wan Kenobi's hand. In her other hand was a necklace with a japor snippet amulet.

Obi-Wan... there... is good in him. I know there is... still...

She was speaking of Darth Vader - no, Anakin Skywalker, his name was Anakin. Luke knew she was speaking of his father. He took his mother's dying words to heart. They became his mantra when he later stood and faced his father on Endor not even a year later.

It was gratifying to find out that he and his mother had been right. Anakin Skywalker had not been so heartless after all.

End.