Maudlin
Lord Vader flipped through a newly acquired book. This one was older than any he'd yet lain eyes upon. Older, he imagined ( or perhaps fancied he'd imagined ), than the existence of the Jedi. So old, it was written by primitives, the Emperor would say. By savages unbound by discipline and a proper iron fist.
He didn't know why a book - a small, leather bound thing - could create such whimsy in him, such interest, when not even the knowledge that his son was alive and well could fashion even the slightest bit of emotion other than the requisite glee that any Sith Lord would feel at the prospect of gaining a new, powerful apprentice. One who could possibly help him break the chains that bound him to his Master; one who could help him kill the old wrinkly bag of bones who so carelessly tossed him about with the twist of his one-track mind. Once again, as they were wont to do with these dusty tomes, Vader's eyes snagged on another sentence. One that he could relate to, even now… especially now.
"We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone."
He remembered when he realized this truth. He was newly made a Jedi Knight and had been sent on a solo mission. He had gotten in trouble, as he usually did, and had cried out for his Master. No answer. He had screamed, wailed, howled… still nothing. The immense pain finally stopped any attempt at Mind Communication. It had seeped into his skin, burrowed its way into his veins and muscles, and insinuated itself into the very marrow of his bones. White-hot, then white-cold flashed through his brain and burned into the retinas of his eyes. After it was over, after he had been dumped outside in a heap as if so much garbage, he realized it. He was alone, as he'd always been alone. His friendships, loves, were only illusions. Even Padme was just an illusion. She hadn't heard him either.
He couldn't remember the exact details of said capture and torture and - even now, engulfed in darkness as he was - he had no wish to know. He pushed everything to the back of his mind… deliberately forgot that Obi-Wan and Padme had not responded to, or even heard, his calls. The only thing he could not push away, could not hide from himself, was the fact that he was alone, always had been and always would be. He even had the vague thought that what he had with his Master and wife was covering up something else, or the lack of something else. Until now, he'd never known which it was.
Vader stood on the ramparts of his personal Star Flyer Unique. A one of a kind ship designed and built for him by a system wishing to be left alone. By signing a contract legalized by the Imperil controlled Senate, they promised to lend no help to the Rebel Alliance and build a ship from their own superior technology (architectural and speed, not weapons) for the Lord Darth Vader. A personal wish thrown in lackadaisically. It was a third of the size of a Standard planet, posh, fashionable, and entirely dedicated to vice.
The black eye indentations in the obsidian mask stared out into the vast expanse of space before him. He was at what the population of the Empire, as well as those not under Imperial rule, referred to as The Void. A vastness that was filled with nothing but darkness. No stars, no planets… no life. He'd recently discovered he liked it here. A feeling he was beginning to feel increasingly often.
It had happened not three months ago, when his flyer was blasted off-course by the explosion of the Death Star. The fireworks were so powerful - and he so small - that the after shocks had carried him all the way out here. As he'd activated his beacon and waited for response, he'd stared out into the Void. Instead of feeling that all consuming fear he'd felt as Anakin - the reason he'd avoided this sector in the first place - he'd felt a foreign emotion. One he'd not felt in his entire life. One not even his mother could generate… Peace.
His roiling anger had calmed and hid. He's come here ever since. He liked to think. A past time he had not indulged in in what seemed forever. He had no need to, as his Master did all his thinking for him. When he left this place, this vast openness that took an entire month to venture to - pushing your engines to their limits of course - he would regret the fact that he could now, once again, think for himself. Thinking for oneself always brought back memories best left alone. Always led to thoughts of his son and his son's daily life. Things he had no wish to think of. But not now. Now, he was at peace. Now, he felt… he just felt. It was strange and scary, but it felt… right.
Vader clamped down on all his thoughts. He turned his eyes, his mind, his very being from the view out his Observation window and strode through the room. He flew through the electro-doors and stomped down the hall. He entered his Solitary, what he called his regeneration chamber. Before he ensconced himself inside it for the remainder of the journey, he commanded his pilot to make tracks back to civilization and - more specifically - the planet Hoth. There were whispers that a Rebel base resided there.
In the millisecond before the chamber activated and sent Vader into a stasis state, the thought ran through his head that maybe he was feeling a new feeling. One that was entirely centered around his son… Obsession.
Anger consumed him. His son had escaped! He gave nary a thought to the others - the fighter pilots, the politicians, the generals, commanders. They would all be destroyed soon enough. No, he had been focused on gaining his son. Bringing him into the fold, turning him to the Dark Side… bringing him into his father's arms. A slice of red-hot rage tore through Vader. These thoughts were of a soft man, a weak man! He had no feelings other than anger and hate, the occasional whimsical fancy, and an interest in books. He felt no love for any being! Obsession, that's all it was. A form of hatred, after a fashion.
He would no longer venture to The Void. It was doing things to his mind, twisting it and planting ideas. It invading his concentration, trying to make him give up his power. He would stop going. Peace was not worth the risks he was running. He may be angry all the time, but he will not allow himself to lose his mind. That's what The Void was doing, he was sure of it. It was whispering of change, of redemption. He didn't need redemption. He had done the right thing, continued to do the right thing, the will of the Force. He would stop going to The Void. It was changing him, he was sure… and he didn't like it.
It had been six long months since he'd even felt a ripple of his son's presence. It angered him. Thankfully, all those fluffy feelings had gone. He was back to normal, balanced once again. He always ignored the voice in the back of his mind that insisted the feeling rushing through his veins and heart was sadness, not anger. He was a Sith. Sith were not maudlin creatures by nature. He always ignored the voice in the back of his mind that insisted that he never had been - and never would be - a Sith, but some combination between that and a Jedi. He had always been great at ignoring the voice in the back of his head, even when he was Anakin.