Archive: yes
Archive Date: March 11, 2000
Author's Webpage: https://www.squidge.org/~pumpkin/
Category: POV - Vader
Disclaimer: Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm
Feedback: is always a treat
Notes: Thank you to Destina for the wonderful beta, as always.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: for ANH -but everyone has seen it, right?
Summary: Darth Vader meets Obi-Wan for their final battle.
I have been thinking about him all day. The thought of him nagging at me, tugging at the back of my mind like an itch I can't scratch. I had put it down to baptising the death star, but then for a moment I felt the bright flare of him in the Force, nearly blinding, so warm and light in a universe gone cold and black. A universe I made that way as my Lord Sidious' right hand.
Now that he is here, I know that I must face him. I have no fear at the thought, for I am far more powerful than he could ever be - he will not tap into the great power of the Dark Side. Most people, Jedi included, believe the Dark Side is about loss of control. This is not so. It takes far more control to use the Darkness than it ever did to use the Light. The Dark Side itself is a maelstrom of emotions, of rage and jealousy and hatred, passions without boundaries. It is an awesome force. To control it, to use it but not give in to it, takes far more power and control than any Jedi could ever imagine.
The Jedi would be horrified to kill a man in cold blood, to deliberately hurt him as he died. It takes a special kind of control and serenity to watch a man as you slowly crush him. To be untouched by the begging, by the desperate pleading in eyes gone black with approaching death. They make sounds as they die. I've grown to enjoy them, these little offerings to the Force. I do not do it because I am out of control. I do it because I can.
Close now, I can feel him. I stride toward my destiny, 'saber at the ready. I will kill him. Finally the student shall rise up and slay the master.
He is old. It shocks me. Were it not for the Force I would not have recognised him. It's not so much the beard as the fact that it is white and on a face I remember as youthful now ravaged by time. I forget for a moment that looks can be deceiving. He is old and feeble, but still strong in the Force. I taunt him but I am the one who is distracted.
I allow myself, for a moment, to mourn my choice. 'Master!' I want to cry out, to reach out. But I chose my path. I chose it with the first life I took. I can still feel Obi-Wan's horror as I raised my lightsaber against my fellows. His pain almost saved me, almost made me turn back. I know he would have welcomed me back with open arms. I saw that as a weakness -his willingness to forgive. But that wasn't the reason I turned, nor was it the reason I didn't turn back.
Hidden beneath my master's serenity has always been a small smile, some contentment that I never understood, as if he had a secret that he never shared with me. Even after I turned, after everything I had done, beneath the pain was knowledge that I was not privy to. It is still there, closer to the surface now. I can almost touch it, almost reach out and bare his secret to my eyes. But it remains elusive.
And so Obi-Wan Kenobi stands before me once again and I am startled by how he has aged. What he has seen has made him old before his time. I mock him but I cannot break that serenity, he will not cede his secrets. As we fight I can see the light growing in him. There is no way for this old man to best me. He knows this; yet, he seems to move into his death, to embrace it like a lover. He extinguishes his 'saber and waits, with utter peace, almost eager in its quiet, for me to strike him down.
I do.
I kick the worn robe that is all that is left of him. The joy I should feel is caught, stuck inside me and morphing to anger, hatred. I feel a touch, long absent, of his fingers in my hair, another, even longer missing, of hands squeezing my shoulders. The Force seems to bubble with laughter around me and again, a bright warmth invades my darkness. A gentle touch against my mind, the love I have eschewed, the forgiveness I do not want, the promise that they are waiting for me still. And then it is fading, gone, leaving me cold and alone once more.
I call on my Lord Sidious and I tell him that I have at last disposed of my former master. He is pleased, his touch in my mind a cold wind.
Today, a small part of me remains warm and I hide that tiny flicker of light from him.