She did, however, catch one thing… one sentence of one trooper jogging into the room as he paused near his Commander.
"Lord Vader is on his way, sir."
It was the first time in many years that Vader felt preoccupied during a meeting… and it was all because of her. That damn senator. The thought enraged him. He hated being like this. Preoccupied. The word itself sickened him. Usually, he would kill others for this sort of behavior. A preoccupied mind lead to mistakes, mistakes meant imperfections, and anything less than perfect was not tolerated within his ranks. Darth Vader's ranks were flawless and he would do whatever means necessary to keep them that way.
Like pay attention to a meeting!
He growled inwardly at his thoughts. It seemed like such a simple task, but yet, impossible. Military meetings were something he usually enriched himself in, after all, he was the Supreme Commander of the Empire's Imperial Forces. Normally, he would lead the meeting and not allow the idiots in the room to run free. What did they know, that he didn't? Nothing. They were fools that couldn't even control a simple meeting without his direction. During his meetings, his goals were clear, his rules were set in stone and his commands were final. He would tell of his plans to expand the Empire, exterminate existing Jedi, and crush the Rebel Alliance without interruption. If anyone dared to disagree with his orders, they would meet their end by his hand. It was simple. It was effective. It was flawless. Three things he admired… but not today.
Today, he found himself silent, not even listening to the others bicker before him. Which was something he never allowed. Bickering was pointless. It reminded him of politicians. Politicians were not in charge here. Only he was. He always had control of his ranks, even when he was preoccupied. He was busy, not dead. Unlike others in this position, he was still aware of what was going on around him. He could feel the generals' and military leaders' reluctance to speak without his input, their fear of his disagreement, and their nervousness due to his silence; but he hardly cared. He knew they weren't stupid enough to ask and if they were, he would end them.
End them. Now that was a satisfying thought. He hated every middle-aged man in the room… but not as much as he hated her.
Senator Amidala.
He had to get her out of his head. That much was clear. She was dangerous. She was a demon–No. She stood for everything he was against, so they could not be the same. She was his torture, but not a demon. She was not hellish, nor was she evil. He was. He lived in Hell, he enjoyed his Hell; she was only locked in with him. He was the demon. She was an angel. They were two conflicting figures that paths should have never crossed. Good vs. Evil. Dark vs. Light. Demon vs. Angel. Sith vs. Senator. They were meant to destroy each other… and it seemed at the moment that the senator had the upper hand.
But the darkness always prevails. The Darkside is stronger. Isn't it?
Vader tightened his fists underneath his sleeves as he fought the urge to start pacing the room. He hadn't had such an urge in a very long time. Not since he was a boy… when he was someone else. Moving always brought him comfort. It was a way of escape; to release energy and conflict that was building up inside him. It helped him think and resolve issues. It was a habit that he had been forced to break during his training, but it seemed that old habits die hard.
Comfort? Old habits? Am I becoming weak? Vader frowned. He was Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith. He could not afford luxuries. Luxuries were weaknesses and he was not weak. He was not allowed to be preoccupied. He was not allowed comfort. He was not allowed to pace. He was skilled, motionless, intimidating, and feared. Just the way his Master had trained him to be. He was no longer that boy who had a habit to pace to remain calm. He was Darth Vader, and Lord Vader did not have habits.
That was, until she arrived… the angel that he loathed.
What was it about her that made him so frustrated? What was it about her that made him so confused? What was it about her that made him want to strangle the life force right out of her? Why did she affect him so deeply? She was under his skin, stuck in his mind, and in his every waking thought torturing him. She did something to him. Something no one had ever done before, but he couldn't explain it. Nothing made sense.
When had he ever protected someone? When had he cared about the pain or suffering he inflicted? When had he healed anyone apart from himself? When had he done a deed when there was nothing for his gain in return? Never… expect for her.
How does that make sense?
He wanted to kill her, but yet, he protected her against others. He wanted to break her, but did nothing when he had the chance. He had negotiated with her. He had stayed with her. He had healed her. The list was endless. Why?
He didn't know.
He was losing it. He knew that. From a young age, Vader was taught not to care about anything or anybody. Only himself. He had no feelings. He had no conflict. He had no guilt. He did not care… but oh how he cared to see that imperfection on her perfect skin; an imperfection that he had caused. The moment he saw it, he knew he had to get rid of it. So he had healed her. Once she had fallen asleep, he removed his glove and had touched her. Skin to skin. A feeling he had not felt in so many years. It had only been for a second, but it was enough. He had never touched anyone just for the sake of it. He couldn't even remember the last time he had touched a person without his glove, but it felt… good. The feeling of his flesh against hers released something in him. Something he couldn't explain.
He tried to tell himself it was just human contact, something he had deprived of since his youth. Never had he been touched skin to skin, nor had he ever socialized. Not till recently. The only human contact he received while in the care of his Master was pain and torture. When he became an adult, not much changed. He was tortured when his Master was displeased. He was kept away from the press and public's ravenous eyes. He remained isolated, only used when needed, and only met with others when absolutely necessary. He became a monster, an evil ghost that was no longer human. He was better than that. He was a Sith Lord, too powerful and monstrous to be considered a human.
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