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Fic: Process of Elimination - The Phantom Librarian
Spewing out too many words since November 2003
fernwithy
fernwithy
Fic: Process of Elimination
Whew. First post-RotS Vader-centric bunny, spawned, bizarrely enough, by a mad spree of logic puzzles I've been doing at lunch and on the commute. Can Fern go back home again? Stay tuned, in the next episode of Attack of the Random Title Bunny.




The galaxy hung around him, points of light in the sterile darkness. The black cloak he wore swung silently, temporarily eliminating dozens of worlds in its trail, and his large, awkward mechanical hand cut through several more.

Coruscant glowed beside his finger, a steady silver light. It was possible that some were there, that some had escaped the initiating action at the Temple and slipped down into the planet's underworld, but the capital was firmly in Imperial hands. The populace had taken an active hand in turning over what Jedi they found.

Vader was not necessary on Coruscant.

He touched the light, and the glow faded, leaving only a feeble outline to show where the planet was.

Not far from Coruscant, another outline showed the world of Chandrila. He had been there already. Jocasta Nu, the clever old witch, had taken refuge among the academics of the world, and the fools had tried to protect her. She had led at least four younglings from the Temple on the night of the... action... but had been intelligent enough to scatter them as soon as she'd left the Coruscant system. Vader had probed her mind before he killed her. Even she didn't know where they'd ended up.

Alderaan... he would arrive within the hour. Bail Organa had been seen by clonetroopers in the vicinity of the Temple on the night that it had fallen, and his political sympathies were no secret, but Vader had no sense of any escaped Jedi--let alone the one in whom the Emperor was most interested--on Alderaan.

Further afield.

Corellia. He rather suspected the Corellians were not sentimental enough to harbor Jedi--pirates, mostly, and other lowlifes--but he couldn't quite eliminate it. Some of the missing Jedi were reasonably adept at hiding. He left Corellia alone.

The small, mid-Rim world of Zompesha floated idly in front of his eyes, and he touched it absently. Like Coruscant, it was firmly Imperial territory, and the Zompeshans had never had any great love for the Jedi. The Scion's wife--at what she clearly considered a safe distance--had made a token protest against "participating in genocide," but on the whole, the world had welcomed the Empire and all its works. Nearby Malkiri, to Vader's displeasure, had attempted to turn in not merely Jedi, but any parent who had agreed to allow a son or daughter to be taken. The Emperor had advised him not to show disapproval for this. Nar Hutta--the Hutts would sooner abolish slavery than harbor Jedi. He deactivated all three worlds.

Naboo... the Emperor had taken his homeworld as his own territory, not only hunting Jedi, but industrializing Theed and the plains. He had instructed Vader not to concern himself with it. Vader was willing to keep this rule. There were reasons he didn't wish to visit Naboo.

Tatooine.

He turned toward the tiny dot with its two stars, looked at it, reached out. And drew away.

It was a good hiding place, and always had been. All of the outlaws of the galaxy found their way there.

And most of them would turn their mothers over to the executioners for a handful of credits. Tatooine would be a foolish hiding place.

Unless they take to the Wastes, or the farmlands.

He frowned behind the mask, the tight new skin stretching painfully, and crossed his arms, annoyed. A waste of time and resources, this galactic manhunt for a few stragglers who could be anywhere at all.

But the Emperor had made it clear in both subtle and less-than-subtle ways that there would be no excuses for missing a single one. Every Jedi in the infinite hunting ground was to be located and killed.

Or, in his precise words, until Kenobi had been located and killed, though Vader did not believe this would stop the hunt at all. The Emperor scoffed at the thought of Master Yoda, who had fallen in the Senate and crawled out through droid maintenance tubes--"So much for the fearsome master!"--but Obi-Wan was still a threat ("And, may I remind you, one who defeated you rather decisively, Lord Vader"). He refused his assistance in this endeavor, stating that it was necessary for Vader himself to "finally fulfill this one rather simple request... the first I made of you, if you will recall."

Tatooine. He knows Tatooine.

Vader walked around the point of light, wanting to eliminate it. He had no more wish to return to Tatooine than he had to return to Naboo.

A point of which Obi-Wan would be eminently aware.

He concentrated, sent his mind out into the Force, searching, reaching, but it was too far. There was a sense of great power at the edges of his consciousness, but it always seemed to be there, just out of reach. Before he'd lost his body, he might have been able to follow it. But now? His strength in the Force had dropped precipitously, another point of displeasure which his new master never failed to raise after his failures.

He could feel them out there, flickering like guttering candles, sometimes catching his eye and then disappearing into the Force like smoke. They were ineffective and toothless, separated like this, and there were more pressing concerns in Vader's opinion--there were rumors of arsenals and even a ragtag fleet beginning to form among the more anarchic elements of the population--but they were his assignment, and if he didn't complete it...

There was no point in contemplating if. To many things had already happened to consider if.

A soft chime sounded, and Vader activated the viewscreen in his chamber, saving and turning off the starmap with an impatient flick of his hand. "Private Veers," he said.

The fresh-faced young man gave him a sharp bow. "My Lord, the captain wishes to inform you that we are approaching Alderaan."

Vader was tempted to note how curious it was that the captain didn't do so himself, but opted not to. The captain of the Inferno was a timid, sniveling bit of a man, one of the many in the military whose commissions were political maneuvers. This was another matter upon which his opinion was unwelcome, though it posed a more severe danger to the Empire than even the gathering arsenal of the Resistance. Colonel Panaka of Naboo--now Grand Moff Panaka--had started a military training academy and was working hard to turn out viable officers, but at the moment, the Fleet was sorely lacking in them. The Republic, after all, had not had a standing military for hundreds of years.

"Very well," he said. "Inform the royal house of our arrival."

"Yes, sir."

And the screen went blank. That simple. Yes, sir, and it was done.

It was less gratifying than he had once imagined it would be.

He didn't bring the starmap back up as the ship prepared for arrival. There was a good chance that he would be interrupted again, and he didn't like revealing anything he was working on until it was complete. Engineering projects were simple, but this process of elimination, logic work... he'd made quite a few errors, and he did not wish for the political appointees to have ammunition to mock him. Kenobi had forced him to do this sort of problem over and over again for three months of his fifteenth year, apparently believing it would train him in mental discipline. He'd never entirely mastered it--at first, he'd wavered on each decision, then when he thought he'd understood it, made several decisions too quickly, which turned out wrong. Obi-Wan had smiled and told him--

He cut off the thought. There was no value in thinking of what Kenobi had said. He'd said the last things Vader intended to listen to on Mustafar.

He took twenty clones down to the surface of Alderaan with him, though there was no particular reason to assume they would be of use in conflict. It was simply a show of force--droids would have done as well for what he required of them. The most threatening thing they encountered was a group of Alderaanians protesting outside the palace, demanding the complete abolition of planetary weaponry. It was a movement that had been in force on Alderaan for some time, and had nearly accomplished its goal--Alderaanian parents had habitually refused their children to the Order, because it taught martial skills. As a result of this, the planet was rather more densely populated than most with untrained Force-sensitives. Vader caught himself thinking, At least there will be no further nonsense about refusal, then remembered that there was no longer anyone to be refused. He doubted even Kenobi would be mad enough to recruit membership.

"My Lord."

Vader stopped.

Organa was standing on the steps of the palace, his arms crossed protectively, an eyebrow raised. "We just received word of your impending arrival. It was too late to make any particular arrangements to honor you."

"Thoroughly unnecessary. This is not a diplomatic occasion, Organa."

"I see."

Vader turned to the clones. "Enter. Retrieve all communications from the house systems, both personal and public."

Organa swept his arm to one side in a generous gesture. "Please come in," he said dryly as the clones marched by. He looked at Vader. "What are they looking for?"

"You are known to be sympathetic to the Jedi rebellion."

Organa gave him an unreadable look, then looked away, and Vader understood that Organa knew who had been. And who had told him.

Vader drew up to his full height and squared his shoulders, but did not acknowledge the look the other man had given him. "You have spoken to Kenobi."

"Many times. You were present for most of them, I believe."

Vader didn't answer this.

"You're welcome to search," Organa said, leading the way inside. "You'll find nothing."

"Won't I?"

They entered the great hall, with its arches of white marble. Clones were fanning out to the various communications stations. Organa stopped. "It would be extremely foolish of me to harbor Jedi--or contact them--when I know the Empire believes my sympathies to lie with them."

"Men have been known to do just such foolish things."

"My wife and I have adopted a child. I have no interest in bringing danger to her, wherever my sympathies may or may not lie."

Vader considered this, and probed Organa's emotions. It seemed to be both reasonable and true. "And Kenobi has exhibited this same level of care for your child?"

"I wouldn't know. He hasn't contacted me to discuss the subject."

"That is precisely what I intend to discover."

"Be my guest," Organa said coldly, and walked away.

Vader glanced around the entrance hall. The last of the clones had gone further into the palace while he'd spoken with Organa, and he was alone. Bright sunlight filtered through the forcefield that closed the entrance. He could only appreciate it as incoming data, but he noted, nonetheless, that it was apparently a lovely day.

On most of the worlds he'd visited where Jedi had hidden, there was a sense of deception among the populace, along with whatever footprints the Jedi in question had left on the Force. Vader sensed none of that here. There was deception, but that was to be expected in a world mistrustful of the military and the Empire. It didn't seem specifically connected to the Jedi. At least not in the way to which Vader was accustomed. There was something, though, some...

At the edge of his consciousness, he felt something flicker, a tiny ripple in the Force.

He turned.

At first he saw nothing as he looked around the hall, but then a faint burbling sound reached the auditory sensors in the helmet. It was coming from the floor.

He looked down.

The infant was at the foot of the stairs, inching her way across the marble with a mischievous grin on her face. One chubby hand rested on the bottom riser. She looked over her shoulder at Vader, and tried to pull herself onto the staircase. It didn't work--she was nowhere near old enough to manage such a feat--and she flopped back down to the floor. A few sniffles might have preceded a cry, but did not. Instead, she slapped her fist against the stair and started to pull again.

Vader looked around. Neither Organa nor his wife--nor anyone else, for that matter--appeared to be in easy reach. He stared at the child, then said, "You should, perhaps, not attempt that yet."

She was obviously too young to understand the words, but she did retreat from the stairs. She looked at Vader with frank curiosity. Her eyes were large and dark brown, and the thin hair growing on her head was the same. Vader had seen holos of her on galactic news reports following the adoption, but had paid little attention. Personal gossip was hardly a worthy use of the airwaves.

She inched toward him, not quite crawling yet, making little sounds of effort, but also continuing to offer that conspiratorial little smile. She didn't seem afraid of him. He wondered at that. Like so many Alderaanian children--thanks to their pacifist movement--she seemed to have a strong presence in the Force. Surely she sensed what he was. Perhaps she simply didn't have enough experience in the world to understand what she was sensing, or to fear death, as she had no real concept of life yet.

Padmé's child would have been this size, a voice said in his mind. Your child.

Vader cut it off as well as he could, the sight of the infant no longer a harmless curiosity. His child had never had a chance to learn to fear death, either, but it had come anyway. Brutally and unexpectedly. At the hands of her father.

The great beast inside of him, the grief he had tethered only with great effort, strained to get free. He reached down into himself, found it, grasped its throat.

She found her way laboriously to his feet, and patted one boot with her hand, then looked up again. The smile was quite maddening now.

He took several long steps back.

She sniffled for a moment at the rejection, then began to inch forward again.

(The younglings used to do that, in the crèche. The would come to you like iron to a magnet. You laughed then. Obi-Wan said you had a gift with them.)

It was HER voice, though she had never said such a thing, never had reason to know it.

He held up one hand and said, "Stop."

The child continued to move.

"Leia!"

Vader looked up.

Organa was striding across the room, his emotion high and nervous. He plucked the girl from the floor and held her against his chest, her chin resting on his shoulder. "I apologize," he said. "She has a habit of slipping away from her nurse."

"I recommend a more diligent nurse."

"I certainly intend to speak to her."

The child--Leia, apparently--struggled to turn her head, and made an imperious gurgling sound. Then she reached out her chubby arms in Vader's direction.

Organa frowned at Leia. "Lord Vader has other concerns here, little one," he said. "I think we need to take you back to Mother and Nurse."

Her fingers opened and closed, trying to grasp at air.

Vader watched her, the data-readouts in the mask noting the angle of her arm, the temperature of her skin, the dampness where a bit of spittle clung to her fingertips. Another image came into his mind, unbidden, an image of a man who did not exist, lying beside a tranquil fountain in his lost wife's apartment, a child who had never drawn breath sleeping peacefully on his chest. There was no weapon at hand, if he needed to come to the defense of the child, of course; he had failed despicably in that regard.

He turned away.

Organa remained for a moment, and Vader could feel tension from him, but shot through with something else, something...

He straightened his shoulders and crossed his arms.

Pity.

For a moment, he hated Bail Organa with a brighter, clearer hatred than he'd felt even for Kenobi in the moment his body had begun to burn.

"I'll take her back to her mother," Organa said quietly, and left the room. Over his shoulder, Leia reached out again, smiling in her strangely disquieting way and burbling meaningless sounds that wanted to be words. Vader watched them until they were gone.

When the clones returned an hour later with logs of all the household correspondence, Organa had come back, the child safely returned to her mother or nursemaid. He had not spoken to Vader, merely taken a seat at a large marble table and scanned documents while he waited. Vader had not chosen to speak to him, spending his time instead simply trying to sense the man's mental state. All he could pick up with any certainty was concern for the girl; everything else was as studiously bland in his mind as it was in his manner.

"Our business is complete in the household," Vader said. "This platoon of troopers will remain to search the world for Jedi."

"They'll find none."

"Where is Kenobi?"

Organa didn't answer.

The clone at Vader's right drew his weapon. "Mind probe, Lord Vader?"

Vader considered it, explored Organa's feelings, shook his head. "I sense no deception."

Organa frowned slightly at this, but stood. "I don't even know if Obi-Wan is still alive," he said. "I haven't spoken to him for several months."

"Should he make contact," Vader said, "you will inform me personally."

Organa neither spoke nor nodded.

"Kenobi is not your responsibility. The child is."

"The child's name is Leia. And you have no reason to resort to threats to my family. It's beneath you."

"I was merely suggesting that you not choose to leave her fatherless."

Without further comment, Vader raised his hand and gestured for the clones to leave. He left last, maintaining eye contact with Organa until the last moment. The other man didn't waver.

As Vader left the palace, the high, demanding cry of an infant rang out from high above. He looked up and saw the shadowy shape of a woman--the queen or the nursemaid; the sensors didn't have enough input to offer identification--holding a child, and a tiny hand grasping in his direction. The shape retreated and the cry faded.

Vader, disquieted, returned alone to the Inferno, leaving the clones to fan out into the population, where they would undoubtedly confirm that there were no Jedi hiding here.

When the walls of his chamber closed, he called up the starmap, put in the communications chips from the palace, and set the computer to cross-check and analyze patterns of contact.

Then he began his daily maintenance routine. Robotic arms lifted the helmet from his head, spraying foul-smelling antiseptics onto his fragile skin, and small fist-sized droids attended to the circuitry in his mechanical limbs and the pneumatic system in his chest.

Through his natural eyes, he looked at the floating worlds around him, twinkling in the black, trying not to be distracted by the memory of the girl's deep brown eyes, or the little smile on her face, or by visions of the man he wasn't, standing up, holding the child he didn't have. Vader didn't allow himself to think of HER, standing somewhere out of sight, out of reach, smiling at the weak man and his child, not caring that he had no means to defend her, no means to save any of them. He paid no attention to the burning inside of himself; it was always there now.

As the communications records poured in, various worlds took on a deep green glow, the worlds that had regular contact with the house of Organa, either officially or personally.

Ampinua. It would need attention, though Vader doubted Jedi would hide there. It was simply an unstable world, ripe for anarchy.

Coruscant. All communications pathways led to Coruscant; it would be more surprising not to have a connection there.

(Where SHE stands at the edge of the night, the soft starlight caught in her hair, the child within her seeming to glow through both of them.)

Bisilyras. Mining business. Irrelevant. The world was secure.

Mon Calamari... a reasonably suspicious location. Vader reached out with one hand, ignoring the small droid crawling along it, and touched the world, turning it red.

Kuat. A neighbor of Alderaan's. Not suspicious communication, though Vader thought it prudent to interview the governmental heads in any case. He left it alone.

Tatooine.

Risto. Fully Imperial. He deactivated it.

Rodia. Slavers and scum... they'd want no trouble. He let it be, but considered it a low priority.

Tatooine.

His eyes went back to his homeworld. The green light around it was faint, but clear. He touched it and said, "Elaborate data."

The world enlarged, floating closer to his face, the suns moving behind his head. Beside it, text floated in the air, identifying the source of the data as a chip from one of the official government terminals, this one tracing subscriptions to newsfeeds. It reported activity during the broadcast of a nightly gossip program, concerned with the doings of various artists, musicians, and sundry other notables, including the royal family.

Someone in the Wastes watched it regularly.

The image came into his mind clearly--a robed, hooded man, sitting alone in a stone hovel, watching the news of a friend he dared not contact...

The image changed, back to the man he himself had been, no longer on the balcony of his wife's apartment now, but standing on the edge of a cliff on Tatooine, looking down over a Tusken settlement below. This man turned and looked over his shoulder. He was still carrying the infant he had carried on Coruscant, and holding it in a protective way. His eyes narrowed aggressively.

Vader shook his head (a rather painful procedure with the helmet off) and closed his eyes. Imagination. If the second was, then so was the first, and the second could not be, therefore the first was not. It was not a vision. It was simply a story he was trying to tell himself.

If Kenobi were foolish enough to be on Tatooine, he would certainly not be wasting his time watching Alderaanian gossip programs. More likely, he was moving through the underground, helping the anarchist rebellion, finding young soldiers to command. The broadcast meant nothing more than a bored hermit looking for some entertainment in the evening.

He ordered the world back to its place on the edge of the galaxy, and deactivated it.

For the remainder of the cleaning process, he let the computer highlight and eliminate worlds, leaving only Alderaan itself undecided. Vader stared at it for a long time.

And deactivated it as well.

He turned his eyes elsewhere.

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Comments
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chancecraz101 From: chancecraz101 Date: June 10th, 2005 04:51 am (UTC) (Link)
*sniffle* It hurts how much he won't just bloody see. And I love how that small voice in the back of his mind won't let him. He is so much like the Leia of your "Father's Heart" stories. And Leia reaching out for him. owww..... Well done.
fernwithy From: fernwithy Date: June 10th, 2005 06:18 am (UTC) (Link)
Thanks. I haven't done the FH universe for ages, so it was a little scary going back. Glad it was still recognizable!
lazypadawan From: lazypadawan Date: June 10th, 2005 04:51 am (UTC) (Link)
I love Vader and Leia fics! Poor Bail must have had a heart attack.
fernwithy From: fernwithy Date: June 10th, 2005 06:20 am (UTC) (Link)
Oh, yeah. You radopted child rushing up to her psychic (and probably psychotic) natural father, who very recently killed quite a few children.

Bring on the defribulators.
darth_pipes From: darth_pipes Date: June 10th, 2005 04:53 am (UTC) (Link)
Great, great story, Fern! I loved it. :D
fernwithy From: fernwithy Date: June 10th, 2005 06:20 am (UTC) (Link)
Thanks. :)
murasaki99 From: murasaki99 Date: June 10th, 2005 05:52 am (UTC) (Link)
Oooh, this was lovely, just lovely.

The great beast inside of him, the grief he had tethered only with great effort, strained to get free. He reached down into himself, found it, grasped its throat.

She found her way laboriously to his feet, and patted one boot with her hand, then looked up again. The smile was quite maddening now.

He took several long steps back.


Some beasts can only be conquered by love, and love in the innocent is most pure. I loved this entire scene, it just felt so *right*.

There is an old romantic poem titled 'The Hound of Heaven' - much of it is pretty overblown for modern sensibilities, but it does get across the point of one loving entity pursuing one who is Lost.

"Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
I am He Whom thou seekest !"

Many thanks for the wonderful story.
fernwithy From: fernwithy Date: June 10th, 2005 06:18 am (UTC) (Link)
Oh, poetry. Cute. :) (I have an utterly childish love of rhymes.) Thanks!
coralia13 From: coralia13 Date: June 10th, 2005 05:53 am (UTC) (Link)
Absolutely beautiful and moving. I love how you integrate Vader and Anakin so well with bits like
And the screen went blank. That simple. Yes, sir, and it was done.

It was less gratifying than he had once imagined it would be.

You really make these characters come to life in ways even the films can't quite do. Thanks for writing!
fernwithy From: fernwithy Date: June 10th, 2005 06:17 am (UTC) (Link)
Thanks. I've never been a big fan of total disconnect Anakin->Vader->Anakin... I think he's pretty consistent. I just think that he also tends to really dissociate a lot.
honorh From: honorh Date: June 10th, 2005 06:13 am (UTC) (Link)
Beautiful, and very painful. Strange, how much more interesting Vader is now. You can feel Anakin lurking below the surface, pushed down in favor of Vader, but never truly gone. I can believe he'd give himself any excuse to stay away from Tatooine, too. Too many memories.

Oddly enough, I have a similar image in mind of Leia for a fic I'm in the process of writing--a Leia who's unafraid of Vader as a toddler. I picture her as being a totally fearless child, which would no doubt give Bail and the Queen ulcers, but would be in line with her later personality.
fernwithy From: fernwithy Date: June 10th, 2005 06:16 am (UTC) (Link)
In my other Leia Vader fic, I have her have a moment of freak-out over his breathing machine when she's seven, for which she is determined to prove at eleven that she no longer has fear. Which she doesn't... though she does lose her temper at him.
equustel From: equustel Date: June 10th, 2005 06:20 am (UTC) (Link)
Your ability to channel this character so truthfully will never cease to amaze me.

Just, wow. I know it's good because I'm left with that trademark devastation only Anakin/Vader is capable of giving me.

Wonderful piece. And man, do I love Bail here. He's brilliant.

Well done!
fernwithy From: fernwithy Date: June 10th, 2005 06:21 am (UTC) (Link)
Thanks.

After RotS, I'm a total Bail fangirl. This guy has some major, Gryffindor-level guts.
shezan From: shezan Date: June 10th, 2005 07:30 am (UTC) (Link)
Oh, this works very well. I love the ambivalence of your Vader, who has human feelings, but stands by his Sith choices. My only question, but perhaps it should be directed at George Lucas, is on his sudden acquisition of the vocabulary and syntax of a Cabinet Minister. "I was merely suggesting that you not choose to leave her fatherless" is very different in tone from "This is where the fun begins" - I can see how Palpy's lofty style would bleed over Vader's after 20 years, but this is far closer to Anakin.

But this is a small quibble. This works so well!
fernwithy From: fernwithy Date: June 10th, 2005 03:08 pm (UTC) (Link)
I was actually trying to find a place to put something about that in--that he's adopted a very formal style of speech specifically to distance himself. But I couldn't find a good place for it.
pen_and_umbra From: pen_and_umbra Date: June 10th, 2005 07:35 am (UTC) (Link)
Damn. This was excellent. Vader's blindness and his inability to let go, no matter how he wishes he could, all of it -- it makes him so wonderfully human, as inhuman as he ostensibly is.

Wow. S'all that comes to mind. Wow.
From: triablaze Date: June 10th, 2005 07:49 am (UTC) (Link)
That was amazing. I've always been a fan of your Father's Heart series and of Vader and Leia stories in general. I'm thrilled to see you that you tackled a post Rots take on things. I loved Vader's first encounter with Leia- how she *knew* and he just couldn't see. It's great to see you back writing some Star Wars fic. Great job!
malabud From: malabud Date: June 10th, 2005 08:41 am (UTC) (Link)
Ah, this is so lovely, in a heart-breaking way. His prison is of his own construction, and his possible salvation cries out for him as he departs, but he will not hear it. So maddeningly and willfully blind and deaf! He conceals the truth even from himself. Of course, were it not so, he would not be able to live with the pain of what he has done. It is supremely ironic that the measures he takes to shield himself from further pain also shield him from the very things that could truly ease it.

Small curiosity: Why is Panaka a Grand Moff? One would think he wouldn't like the Empire, all things considered.

I found one missed word:

Organa gave him an unreadable look, then looked away, and Vader understood that Organa knew who __ had been. And who had told him.

You need a "he" there.
fernwithy From: fernwithy Date: June 10th, 2005 03:11 pm (UTC) (Link)
I forget where I read that Panaka was a Grand Moff. In something or other. I kind of liked the idea; it had something to do with him telling Palpatine about Anakin and Padmé's marriage. I could see him being very loyal to someone he perceives as a Naboo leader.
selenak From: selenak Date: June 10th, 2005 09:38 am (UTC) (Link)
Fantastic. Both Vader/Anakin and Bail Organa, whom you wrote beautifully in Father's Heart already. And the encounter with Leia is heartbreaking.
imadra_blue From: imadra_blue Date: June 10th, 2005 09:50 am (UTC) (Link)
This is just beautiful, Fern. You really do a great job of cleaning up the plot holes Lucas left us to deal with. I adore Vader and Leia, it's just so wonderful. Makes me all squeeful inside. I really liked it, as I do all your work. ♥
absurdwords From: absurdwords Date: June 10th, 2005 10:36 am (UTC) (Link)
This is great. I love the Bail - Vader interaction.
akashasheiress From: akashasheiress Date: June 10th, 2005 01:04 pm (UTC) (Link)
So good! It's stories like these that make me feel sad that Leia never got to reconcile with her father, face to face.

You're very good at writing babies, y'know.
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