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Title: Undefeated
Author: Jaxmari (imadrabloodwater@gmail.com)
Rating: R
Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader, Obi-Wan Kenobi
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Darkfic.

Summary: Darth Vader's memories slow him down when he finally meets Obi-Wan Kenobi again.

Disclaimer: In case it wasn't obvious, I'm not George Lucas, so I own nothing. Just playing in his sandbox until they kick me out of the playground. I make no money; this is for personal entertainment only.

Notes: Drabble written for Fenallaevangela on the Drabble Meme. Request: Vader gen, get inside his head. This is a bit experimental; it's second person POV and stream of consciousness. Um, I'm taking license with genre and calling this gen because the slash isn't the focus of the story. *shifty eyes*

Beta Reader(s): The extremely helpful and wise Bell.

Warnings: Vader (Anakin)/Obi-Wan slash (implied), character death, violence.

Out of all the people you've killed, you miss Anakin Skywalker the most.

No one ever really understood you, but they understand you even less now. They don't know what it's like to hate with every cell of their beings, to drown in the dark side of the Force so they won't have to breathe their own sorrow. Palpatine may have understood you, but he could never sympathize. Men like him -- like you -- don't sympathize with anyone. You are Darth Vader now; you don't need to be understood, only feared.

Everything that ever mattered is gone now. You take your pleasures where you can, since what once gave you happiness is gone. Padmé is dead, and you can't touch her anymore. Even if she weren't, you couldn't touch her, because you have no hands to touch anyone. Instead, you use the durasteel mockeries of what was once flesh to wield your red lightsaber. You hunted the Jedi like you once hunted womp rats as a child, killing them all with vicious delight. You terrorize the galaxy, and that is your new pleasure.

You are trapped inside a black lifesuit, and somehow that makes your life easier. You can't feel anything anymore. There is no wind to caress your flesh, no heat to make you sweat, no cold to make you shiver. Even on the few occasions you take the lifesuit off in your meditation chamber, you find that the fire has deadened most of the nerves of your body. You let it deaden your soul, too.

You hate everything so much that your entire being radiates it, so even your new allies shrink from your presence. You enjoy their fear as some might enjoy a fine Corellian wine. Even Palpatine seems hesitant around you, afraid to draw as close to you as he once did. It doesn't matter, because it leaves you alone to hate, to burn, to fantasize about finding Obi-Wan Kenobi so you can make him burn, too.

It's one of those cold, hard facts of life: even though Obi-Wan didn't kill you, he still won.

You hated Obi-Wan for a long time, forgetting every other emotion as you searched the galaxy far and wide for him. Somehow, you knew he'd be the last Jedi you'll kill. It just won't be right if he isn't. That desire to find him and make him scream your name -- your new name -- in agony burned within you for years, until it finally burned itself out. Then you were left with nothing but a numb, aching, bleeding hole inside your chest.

You were surprised when you felt Obi-Wan's presence for the first time in twenty years. He is there with you, on the Death Star, calling you out. You don't come right away. After all, he isn't your Master anymore, and you will find him at your leisure, not his.

Memories slow you down when you finally search him out. You remember the warm smile he reserved only for you, the times you crawled into his bed as a child so that he could comfort you after you had a nightmare. You remember him teaching you to flick your wrist just so for the perfect parry, and all the times you both risked your lives to save each other. He was once your hero, and though you had wanted to be just like him, you never did quite measure up. He somehow always managed to remain one step ahead of you.

You don't have a father, but Obi-Wan is as close as you ever came. You didn't care that he'd only seen you as a friend and a brother, never a son. You had just wanted him to love you back. He never said anything about it, so you thought he hadn't. He hadn't spoken of his feelings, even when he buried his face in your hair, moaning your name as he came. Ironically, when he finally told you he loved you, it was right before he left you to die.

You used to want him inside of you, making you forget how much the war made your soul bleed. It hadn't mattered that you loved him like a father, because you were happy to let Daddy fuck you for a little attention. He'd never been a substitute for Padmé, but he'd been your only comfort when she hadn't been there.

You used to wonder if you had ever been able to comfort him.

You force yourself back to the present, trying not to think about the past. But it still weighs you down when you finally see Obi-Wan again, standing in the middle of a long, dark hallway, waiting for you. He looks like a different man, older than he should be. Yet his eyes are still bright, still judging you. The old hate surges up inside of you as you flick on your lightsaber.

Now, you want him to die, because you remember all the things that hurt: Those sly smiles of his, never quite concealed by his beard. How he always pointed out your inadequacies, often publicly. The way the Jedi Council always chose him over you. That everyone trusted him, and even though you were the Chosen One, the Jedi still didn't believe in you. How Obi-Wan was fucking Padmé behind your back. You remember how he crippled you and watched you burn, looking as though he was the one betrayed.

It hurts to remember, and it makes you want to make him hurt. Gripping your lightsaber, you tell him that you're the Master now, but you know they're just empty words. He won't believe you. You want him to die, but more than that, you want him to lose more. You want to show him that you're a Master, that you don't need him anymore. You know that you're lying to yourself, but you let yourself think it anyway.

The sound of your lightsabers clashing matches your heartbeat. You've neglected your heart for twenty years, but it suddenly aches. You can't pick one thing to feel, so you feel them all -- it's like feeling nothing, in a way. Your emotions are the color white: the combination of everything that seems like nothing.

Your attention is on him, and only him. The crashing sound of your lightsabers as you both block and parry, neither taking the kill is background noise. There's only Obi-Wan and his empty words and his empty eyes. You don't want to kill him, but it has to be done. There's no turning back now.

He tells you he will become more powerful than you can imagine. You don't believe him. Does he think you're still that awkward teenage boy who believed everything he said, all while hungering for his touch?

Your battle is like a slow dance, reminding you of when he used to slowly fuck you, taking his time with that as he did with everything else. Your attacks falter, and you think he might win the fight after all. You realize you don't care anymore who wins. Either way, someone would be dead, and the memories would stop, because it was he who awakened them. You could go back to hating everything, but feeling nothing.

Then Obi-Wan takes a step back, glancing at something in the hangar. When he turns back to you, he's holding up his lightsaber in acquiescence -- this is the first time he's ever given in to you. You take the opening without thought, slicing your lightsaber through his torso. His robe slides to the floor in two pieces, followed by his lightsaber, but there is no body. You stamp at his robes, rage boiling up inside of you as you realize Obi-Wan is still there, smiling that old sly smile of his.

It's one of those cold, hard facts of death: even though you've killed him, he's still won.

End.

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