The Long Road Back

Chapter Ten: My Name Is...

Notes: Making up psychiatry as I go....

~~~~~~~~~~

Vader sat in his prison in Anakin Skywalker's mind, the same prison he'd sent Anakin into and wondered how things had gone so wrong. What was it that had caused the youth to re-emerge in the first place? He'd thought he had Anakin under control. He'd thought he'd never have to deal with that part of himself again.

Frustration was a constant state. No amount of plotting, threatening and seducing was budging Anakin. He remained in ascendance. An impotent rage built as he considered his current position. It wasn't as though he could tell his Master what was happening, either. Anakin had control of the mouth. He had control of the body, relegating Vader to merely a passenger position, unable to do anything save comment.

He screamed, but no one aside from Anakin heard him.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Two personalities?"

Doc's prognosis stunned Anakin, though he knew it shouldn't have since it fell exactly where his own thoughts had in recent weeks.

"Yes, Lord Vader. Two. There would be the core personality -- the original you were born as -- and the second -- as fully developed as the first and considering itself the new core."

Anakin thought over the explanation. Vader, strangely, was silent within him. He had the impression that Vader was paying close attention to the man's words.

"The question on my mind is: who are you? You were not born Darth Vader, Sith Lord." Doc leaned forward.

"How did it happen," Anakin countered. "What causes two personalities?"

"Generally, an emotional trauma so great that the mind of the core personality cannot cope, shutting down the core and allowing the second to emerge to cope with the trauma. In some cases, however, it's a gradual switch, little episodes of the second emerging and retreating, both set upon that path by a series of stressful, emotionally wringing moments until the core simply stands back and lets the second have full control."

Anakin shifted uncomfortably. The voice he now knew as Vader's had been with him for a long time. He recalled Vader being there even when he was a child, speaking to him, nudging him into certain actions.

"Emotionally healthy persons can cope without a fracturing occurring, but individuals who are not emotionally healthy cannot cope. They cannot face certain situations. Sometimes the two are aware of each other and sometimes not. Why, I read a case just the other day where the two talked to each other and jointly decided matters such as bodily care!"

"Is it possible for a core personality that has, say, been repressed to re-emerge? To become strong enough to suppress the second that had taken over?"

Doc was quiet a long moment, his gaze in constant motion upon the mask. "I cannot say. I'm sorry. Each case is individual." He slid a datapad across the desk. "A collection of stories -- cases. You may read through them to gain an understanding of how very individual each one is."

He left the datapad where it was. It was good to know he wasn't crazy, that Vader was indeed separate from him in a sense.

It's all a bunch of bantha poodu, Anakin. It's his most ridiculous idea yet. I'm not separate, you know that. I'm you. We're one and the same.

"So doc, what can cause the original core to re-emerge?"

"Anything really. Again, each case is individual. As you can imagine, this is a difficult field to diagnose and treat because of that. What works with one person might not work with the next. Not to mention that you, as a...force user...are somewhat unique to me. I've no idea how that affects matters, if it does at all." Sitting back with a shrug, he continued. "We'll treat to relieve your main symptoms, then work towards reconnection, which is a process that reintegrates the personalities into one. It's not a fast process I'm afraid and it will be painful. We'll need to delve deeper into your memories and you'll learn new coping skills for stressful moments. Let's go back to the music therapy, since it was one you did enjoy, only this time, I'd like you to pick out an instrument to learn. Begin slowly. Take your time. Now, for your bouts of anxiety, I'd like to treat you with a new drug. It's recently been approved by the Galactic Drug Administration for use on humans."

Vader surged forward. Reconnection? Not needed. As for those stressful moments, you know I'm here to help you with those, Anakin. I'm always here to help. Dealing with stress is one thing I do best. But the rest? First he uses quack theories and now he wants to drug us? Tell me you aren't naïve enough to believe him? This is Palpatine's doing, Anakin, mark my words. We're making progress out of this suit, so he wants to cripple us again. He wants to make us more of a slave.

Anakin clenched his hands tightly together. Yes, Vader did deal well with stress in a manner of speaking. He simply choked or beheaded whoever it was that was bothering him. "Does it have side effects?"

"Of course, but not like the light lamp." He smiled briefly at that. Anakin sensed he was tense, yet noticed the man was doing his best to keep his patient at ease. His body language, the soothing, calm tone. "The possible side effects are increased thirst, high blood pressure and insomnia. We'll keep close tabs on you, Lord Vader."

"Anakin."

"Excuse me?"

Vader made a noise of angry displeasure. Anakin, don't!

"Anakin. My name is Anakin." Reaching up, he began to remove Vader's mask. "Before we start any drug, you need to know the entire story. I haven't been completely honest, Doc." His heart was pounding, Vader pushing, railing at what he claimed was sheer stupidity. Did it truly matter though if it was revealed that Darth Vader was the fallen Jedi Anakin Skywalker? Perhaps, but Anakin no longer cared. By continuing to wear the mask, he'd been hiding. No more hiding. He was going to be Anakin, not Vader.

Vader screamed again his displeasure.

Doc's gaze took a long tour of his face, undoubtedly noting the scarring that was too deep to be fully repaired and then smiled gently. "Hello Anakin. Tell me whatever you feel the need to."

"I must insist on full confidentiality, Doc. Nothing of what I say ends up before the eyes or ears of another."

"Agreed. I keep separate files on all my patients. I do not believe the empire needs weapons against those who come to me for help."

A unique doctor in these times. Was he telling the truth or was he lying? He'd know soon enough. Anakin chose to trust him and began the story with his mother. The words were halting and barely above a whisper, but he found he could speak about her without his grief dragging Vader closer, if only for a short while.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sonas knew the name Anakin Skywalker of course. Who of his age didn't? The 'Hero Without Fear'. A famous Jedi.

Now Sith, he thought.

Sonas was not the imperial purist he'd made himself appear. No, he had no love for his employer, but in order to practice, he'd taken the oath of loyalty. Somehow, he'd ended up here, doing what appeared to be some honest good. Would Lord Vader turn him in to the emperor for that admission of separate files? No, not Lord Vader. Would Anakin turn him in? He took a risk.

He'd take many risks to heal those truly in need and this man was hurting. Sonas vowed to do whatever he could.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was time to give him a name. Padmé had been thinking about that. He desperately wanted to call her something besides 'Waiting' and truth be told, she was tired of signing that word, even though it accurately described her state. She was 'waiting', in a perpetual state of 'waiting'. What name could she sign that would not be immediately recognized? She wanted something that was still close to herself. Her own name would not do, nor any of her immediate family. After much consideration, she decided upon her great-grandmother's nickname. Only family had used it and her great-grandmother was long dead. Anakin wouldn't know the name.

Norel. She'd sign her letters 'Norel'.

~~~~~~~~~~

Anakin took his medication for the day. Each morning, he had to stop in at Doc's office and pick up his medication. The tactic was to prevent another fiasco like the light lamp. He understood that and didn't mind it. It was one less thing he had to think about during the day. Sitting down with the latest reports from that stupid search for Obi-Wan that Palpatine had ordered, he ignored the growing files and called up the new letter 'Waiting' had sent.

He hadn't had time to read it earlier and was grateful for the interruption of his daily tasks. Since revealing himself to Doc, it had become more difficult to keep up Vader's work. He was growing weary of the masquerade and longed to reveal himself even though he knew Palpatine would likely kill him.

Heck, Palpatine probably already knew. How could he not? It wasn't like Anakin was keeping up Vader's workload anymore.

A part of him thought he should be a little more concerned about the possibility of death, yet Anakin liked the mellowness taking him over recently. He barely had any anxiety at all these days. In fact, the deadlines for the various projects -- busywork -- Palpatine gave him didn't really concern him and he'd heard some of his men wondering if Lord Vader was feeling okay. He hadn't disciplined anyone in weeks, nor had he choked anyone. The man had said something about shoes dropping....

He took a long drink of water and began to read. The letter was much shorter than previous letters and he sensed a hesitation in the flow of the words.

"Dear ID,

It has come to a point between us that I feel we need to add a layer of trust. This is a big step for me, please understand, for a person I trusted greatly broke my heart into tiny pieces. You've been remarkably patient with my reluctance to share my image and name. Not many would be so patient. Therefore, I will reveal something of myself. You may call me Norel.

I look forward to your reply.

Yours,

Norel -- Waiting"

He sat back with a smile, taking another long drink. A name. It stunned him. He felt as though she'd given him some great gift. Her name, something personal to refer to her. She was trusting him and could he do any less? He decided he'd sign his letters as...Ani.

~~~~~~~~~~

His wife had a shopping problem. Obi-Wan decided it was probably time to face that fact. Qui-Gon had been correct and he hated to admit it. He'd honestly been certain she'd had projects planned She hid the problem well, he had to admire that. However, he couldn't miss the boxes going in and out at a frequency that made him certain the empire would swoop in here out of suspicion of rebel activity. Not only was she addicted to shopping, she now had an addiction to selling things.

Obi-Wan wondered how she'd managed all those years to keep herself from debt. It didn't take much to solve that question once he really thought about it. She'd had little time to shop until recently and little build-up of credits to spend. First, she'd been a handmaiden, focused on her duties and then she'd taken care of her father and once he'd died, she'd had Padmé to look after. It wasn't until recently that she'd had the free time to wile away. Not to mention the credits had grown with interest, leaving her fairly well off and able to spend with abandon.

The baby's room was outfitted with all sorts of things they didn't need and he somehow thought a baby wouldn't want to be wearing ruffles and lace all the time. She'd gone nuts for ruffled, lacy little dresses, though why dresses? They were having a boy, weren't they? That was what they'd been told. Unless Dormé knew something the med droid she'd seen didn't.

He pursed his lips and crossed his arms. It was time for an intervention.

~~~~~~~~~~

This was really becoming embarrassing. Anakin shifted on his knees, wishing Palpatine would shut up already so he could go find the refresher. When Doc had said there might be increased thirst, Anakin had failed to connect what increased thirst meant. Thirst meant water going in which meant.... As a consequence, he now knew where every refresher was on the entire ship.

You know what I find soothing, Vader asked with a malicious undertone. A waterfall. The splash of water upon rocks. Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle. Don't you find that soothing, Anakin? It's an invitation to relax and just let everything go. Splash, tinkle. Think about it.

Vader was getting much mileage out that little problem. He could make a very convincing whooshing sound, like waves coming in to the shore. He did so with relish. Anakin shifted again. He couldn't wait much longer. Reaching out with the Force, he did everything he could think of to make Palpatine's image waver and finally cut out. With a satisfied sigh, he left to take care of the bodily problem and returned in time to see Palpatine's image spring back in to view.

"Technical difficulties, Lord Vader?" Palpatine looked annoyed. Did he know what he'd had done?

"Yes, Master."

There was a long pause and finally, "See to it that it doesn't happen again."

"I will, Master."

"Have you any success on the Kenobi issue?"

Kenobi issue? Oh yes, that stupid search. "Nothing at present. He's hidden himself well." Of course, 'well' was subject to interpretation, wasn't it? If Anakin hadn't bothered looking, then Obi-Wan hiding in a closet in the next room could be considered hiding well, couldn't it?

"Make Kenobi your priority."

The image winked out. Anakin returned to his reports, blatantly ignoring the order, completely unconcerned with any consequences that might appear later.

~~~~~~~~~~

The cottage was dark and quiet. Sounds drifted in from outside: animals, birds and insects, the treetops rustling in the wind, the water lapping at the ground. Padmé paid attention to none of those, curled on her bed with her arms clasped about a pillow. She sobbed, eyes closed.

Sometimes, early in the mornings, the loneliness of her situation crashed over her like a wave, tumbled her about and left her drained and limp. Her arms ached to hold another person, her skin craved any touch and she was very afraid she'd die alone in this place, a withered husk bereft of love and affection.

With a last squeeze of the pillow, she forced herself to get up and get moving. Shower, dress, eat a meal though she wasn't truly hungry. And then to sit alone, always alone, living vicariously through Dormé.

On impulse, she planned an outing, making arrangements before she could change her mind. She wanted human contact.

It was time to meet Ani face-to-face.

~~~~~~~~~~

Qui-Gon sat across from Padmé, watching her. So much pain. Not for the first time he wished he could comfort her. She was strong, however, and would pull through this bout of depression. She always did, making herself move forward. This woman had a strong will. Even when he'd first met her, he'd known that about her, for what teenager could govern and reign as Queen without possessing such a will? There had to be a strong will, a sense of what was just and a wisdom beyond those young years.

"I wish I could help you, Padmé."

As though in response, she cocked her head and frowned. She couldn't hear or see him. He knew that. It was only her own sense that she'd grieved enough for one day. How did he know that? Because she straightened herself tall and reached for her half-finished letters. After a moment, she began to write.

Qui-Gon left her to the task and decided to visit Obi-Wan. With luck, Dormé would be organizing something and he could admire her technique. He hadn't been kidding when he told Obi-Wan he'd never seen anything like it. Dormé fascinated him.

She was sweet, kind, loyal and exactly the sort of woman Obi-Wan needed. Her strict neatness complimented Obi-Wan's tendencies as a slob. Neat professionally, he was the opposite in his personal space, letting himself spread out a bit and be comfortable. Dormé's adventuresome palate kept Obi-Wan from becoming settled in bland, boring food choices. She brought that irreverent spark inside him closer to the surface and he in turn tamed her obsessive mannerisms.

The two met in the middle on most everything and it was Qui-Gon's opinion that Obi-Wan had been right to have married her. He should have taken that chance, for it had encouraged him to grow as an individual instead of becoming settled into the past. Yoda disagreed, but then Yoda hadn't been watching the two. Grudgingly, and with many 'hmph's, Yoda had allowed that perhaps if he'd also observed, his opinion might be swayed. Might being the operative word.

Walking into the living area of the house, Qui-Gon found Dormé surrounded by boxes and Obi-Wan talking in a low, extremely angry voice. He left quickly, but the gist of what he'd heard was thus: Dormé had a shopping problem and Obi-Wan wasn't going to take it any longer.