It didn't matter what time it was and what the sky was supposed to look like, for with the endless night that blanketed Los Angeles, the hours blended together into one. Not that the Dark Lord of the Sith cared what time it was, for he had no deadlines or appointments, nothing that really needed to be done or even anything that garnered his attention. He kept an eye, so to speak, on his wife and the unborn child she carried through the weak remants of the bond they once had when he was pathetic, childish, going by a different name and wielding a blade of a different color. But since she had told him to stay away, that she did not want him near her or the child growing within her, he'd backed off.
Not for her sake, of course. But, instead, for the sake of the child: he did not want anything happening to her that might jepordize the child's well-being. He hadn't been around when Luke and Leia were children, thus the opportunity to indulge their abilities and guide them towards the Dark Side of the Force had been lost. They were powerful, children of the great Darth Vader, but their skills were now lost to him--he knew that the twins would never join him. But this new life? He could take from his wife once born and raise as his own.
As Luke and Leia should have been.
He felt a tinge of protest deep within the recesses of his mind as what was left of Anakin Skywalker cried out, but ignored it. There was nothing the Jedi side of himself could do to stop him. He'd already won.
Vader was pulled out of his thoughts as he felt a something tug at his mind from within the Force: someone was near. Opening one eye, he peered out, then reluctantly opened both red golden-rimmed eyes and rose from the spot in which he'd been meditating. His glove hand hovered near his lightsaber.