The Long Road Back

Chapter Six: Personal Revelations

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What have you done that is so terrible?

Considering the question his lovely mystery woman had posed in her last letter, Anakin stalked about the ship with as much arrogant swagger as he could manage. The walk kept all but the foolhardy from bothering him -- a little trick he'd lifted from Vader. The legs Palpatine had chosen actually made it easier, as he ended up walking a little odd from them to begin with because they pinched where they joined to his thighs. They always had and doctors told him that couldn't be fixed without completely replacing the limbs. Why? Because of how soon Palpatine had wanted him up and about. There should have been a slow recovery period. After all, they'd replaced two legs and an arm, but there hadn't been enough of a recovery. Palpatine had wanted him out putting terror into the hearts of anyone who might object to Palpatine's rule of the galaxy. Skin and prosthetics had grown together in such a way that there was always going to be an uncomfortable pinching, so unless Anakin could figure out a way to con Palpatine into letting them be upgraded, he was stuck with the pain.

No wonder Vader was always in a bad temper, Anakin thought. Palpatine didn't want his pet apprentice to get too comfortable in any way. It was sort of like what Master Yoda used to say about the path to the dark side, only in this case, it was 'chafing led to discomfort; discomfort led to irritation, irritation led to anger...' and so forth. All the way to striking out at others because he felt bad physically.

Anakin lived with the pain though. He supposed he could fly along fully medicated and let 'better living through modern chemistry' be his motto, but the pain reminded him that he was in control of his mind and body once more, not Vader. He accepted it. Besides, if he was medicated too much, he might let Vader slip free and that could be disastrous.

Speaking of pain.... Her question. What had he done that was so terrible?

Sensing Anakin's pensive turn, Vader eagerly awoke, rushing forward in his thoughts. Nothing at all, came that one's reply. You've done nothing, Anakin. You made choices, very understandable ones under the circumstances.

He ignored the silken voice, tallying off events to himself. He'd killed the children, then helped wipe out his friends and colleagues. After that, he'd killed rebels, ordered the death of a Naboo queen, killed more rebels and begun offing anyone that annoyed him too much. Oh, and during that time, he'd also managed to murder his wife and unborn child and try to kill his best friend and Jedi Master. Quite a list and it was much longer after four years.

Impressive. You should be proud of how well you've served our Master and the empire.

Anakin frowned, annoyance prickling at him even as he felt that surging of pride Vader mentioned. What was so great about the empire, anyway, he asked both himself and Vader. Order kept through fear, devastating recessions on some worlds due to changes in economy, forced military service for young men of a certain height, torture for anyone expressing a dissenting opinion, the enslavement of non-human species, and medical services now substandard because Palpatine didn't want to pay for the good service anymore. Unless it was for himself. Then he had the very best. The rest of the galaxy could rot.

You misunderstand, Vader argued.

Misunderstand? How could I misunderstand that? Look at us, Vader. Really look, because we're not exactly a picture of glowing health, now are we?

We're breathing, aren't we?

Barely, he retorted. It's your fault too. If you hadn't been so overconfident, we wouldn't have ended up breathing in all that junk on Mustafar and scarring our lungs like this.

Like you aren't overconfident yourself? Who was it that rushed Dooku on Geonosis and got his arm chopped off? Wasn't me.

Well it wasn't me that jumped over Obi-Wan and lost us two legs and the other arm, now was it? Huh, huh, huh? So there.

Anakin stopped walking, laughing a little to realize he was arguing with himself over things they both knew as truth. There were no misunderstandings, they were both overconfident and both of them had contributed to the state of their body. Then he laughed again, startling two officers walking by him.

I'm nuts, he thought. Thinking of myself as 'you', 'our', 'we' and 'they'; like I'm two individuals.

Shaking his head, he continued his tour of the ship, with no real destination in mind. He wondered on his own gullibility. Palpatine had lied to him. Blatantly and several times as well. Had he been so desperate to believe many of those lies? Or had he been weak enough of mind that Palpatine had controlled him as he had the Senate?

No, if that were true, wouldn't he still be obeying with few questions? He had been manipulated, but not through mind tricks, merely simple lies. He snorted. As though any lie was simple. Perhaps at the onset a lie seemed simple, yet one lie grew into two and snowballed until a person was mired in the resulting complex weaving.

Palpatine did not know how to save anyone from death. One more lie told to reel Anakin in. Palpatine had done everything he could to lure Anakin and to keep his own life and power base. To answer his question, Anakin decided that yes, he had been that desperate. He'd believed dreams as inevitable, dreams that he saw now probably would not have come true after all. Padmé had died, but it hadn't been childbirth that killed her. It had been him.

Anakin shifted uncomfortably as he let himself into his quarters, pushing himself further in his thoughts, not letting himself ignore truth. Vader waited inside him, looking for any crack to force open and gain a foothold. He had to push himself or Vader would always have hold over him. I can't be afraid of my own thoughts, Anakin repeated over and over until the discomfort passed. Then, he continued his thought processes.

He'd listened to the silken promises of an evil man and taken them to heart, seduced by flattery and that tease of having an easy way to gain...not Padmé's safety, he saw now, but power. He'd wanted power. Maybe not the responsibility that went with power, but power all the same. A grimace tightened his lips. Palpatine had known it and so had the Jedi Council. He'd been ambitious in the wrong ways. He should have listened to Obi-Wan.

That one? You're kidding right, Anakin? Obi-Wan held us back in everything. He was jealous from day one of our abilities.

There were many things he should have done. Anakin sat down and removed Vader's helmet. He drew in several slow breaths. That was enough soul searching at present. He was too tired to continue right then.

~~~~~~~~~~

They were all idiots, every last one of them.

Padmé stared at the Senatorial proceedings with irritation growing fast inside her. The only ones with any sense were Mon Mothma, Bail and a couple others, but it didn't look like any of them were present. At least, she hadn't glimpsed them. She sighed. She may be technically considered dead, but she still had to live here. These ideas they were bantering about were unacceptable and she was going to tell them that.

I'll write my Senator, she thought. He'll get a what's for on this issue.

Between her continued attempts at her hobbies, those letters to Anakin and sending in letters to the Naboo Senators and to various political magazines, Padmé was managing to fill up her days nicely. She had to watch hours of sometimes badly flickering Senatorial proceedings to keep on top of things and even if she wasn't making a difference, she was making herself feel like she was acting instead of hiding out on Naboo.

And then there were Dormé's letters. She'd been clothes shopping again and Padmé wondered how Obi-Wan was taking that. There had been a time when he'd objected to the small amount of items she and Dormé had brought when they'd gone to stay with him. Apparently, he was fine with Dormé's shopping.

Whenever Padmé had gone to the shops for meetings with her seamstress, she'd preferred to take Dormé, as her friend had thoroughly enjoyed the chance to browse the racks of fabric and see new designs. Had Dormé dragged Obi-Wan into a shop on Tatooine? Or was she shopping her favorite stores again, ordering from there and having them shipped?

She switched off the proceedings and went into the kitchen, taking a minute to look at her latest recipe and deciding she wasn't ready to start it yet. There was always tomorrow. Grabbing some crackers and cheese, she returned to her living area. None of the projects there grabbed her interest and she sighed, nibbling on the snack. What could she do that might hold her interest?

Ah-hah! I haven't tried metal working yet!

Smiling now, Padmé finished her snack and readied herself for a trip in to town. With any luck she'd be working with metal by tomorrow afternoon. She had a good feeling about this idea.

~~~~~~~~~~

Grudgingly, Palpatine gave in on the issue of new cybernetic limbs for Vader. He had the feeling that it was Vader and not Anakin that wanted them and if he had to spend a little to give Vader incentive to pop back out, then so be it. Keep Vader happy every now and then and Anakin would begin to throw tantrums. He knew how good Anakin's tantrums would be for Vader.

He didn't have any real problems with his apprentice's job performance. Although in obvious ascendance, Anakin was doing Vader's work. That was a good thing. The problem he did have, however, was that Anakin was beginning to take the suit off and walk around calling himself Anakin. Why, he'd heard several employees remark what a likeable fellow that new guy Anakin was. None of them could remember what department he worked in, but was he ever personable!

Palpatine shook his head. Misguided and horrible. Ahh, to have an upright apprentice that would stay the way he was supposed to!

Once more, he daydreamed of having Obi-Wan Kenobi as his apprentice.

~~~~~~~~~~

Aromatherapy wasn't working. Flowers and herbs reminded Anakin of Padmé and the food scents kept making him hungry. Anakin's temples throbbed as he tried to pay attention to what his doctor was telling him. It was difficult to concentrate, especially when Vader wouldn't shut up.

We don't need to be here, Anakin. We're perfectly healthy. We have new legs thanks to that argument we gave our Master about being a more effective Sith Lord with better ease of movement -- not that you're performing my job to the best of our abilities, but I understand. You're in pain over Padmé and our mother. Why don't you relax and let me have just a few minutes? You can rest your aching head and not have to think about...

Shut up already, he told Vader, frowning when the voice in his mind ignored the order.

"Two new things, Lord Vader. These techniques are well known and I believe that, along with your daily meditations..." The man paused. "You are still meditating, correct?"

Anakin nodded. "Of course." No need to mention that he had trouble stilling his mind and concentrating on the Force while Vader kept up a running commentary, was there?

"What position are you favoring these days? Have you tried sitting cross-legged on the floor?"

Vader quieted a moment, then asked Anakin in a cold voice, he is joking, right? Thinks he's being funny?

No, I don't think so, Vader. He's serious.

Ignorance like that should be squashed before it can find a mate and reproduce. Our legs, the real, flesh and bone part, would ache in that position even with the new cybernetics. He's a doctor. He should know that.

Anakin didn't bother pointing out that this man wasn't that sort of doctor. He was a shrink. He dealt with the mental/emotional things, not the body. Vader wouldn't listen even if he did point it out, so he didn't bother.

Let me choke him. It'll only take a minute and then we wouldn't have to sit in that ridiculous anger management class anymore. Do you have any idea how annoying and whiny all our classmates are? 'Ooh, my boss yelled at me today.' Suck it up sweetheart. I get yelled at by Palpatine all the time and it never bothers me. I am a picture of calm.

Vader's irritation was rising, belying that claim of calm, witnessed by the urge to raise his hand and focus on the doctor's throat. The exact reason he needed the class. So far, he hadn't regretted signing up as himself. Anakin told his doctor, "I've tried all sorts of positions. I have been meditating since I was a child, you know."

He recalled Obi-Wan teaching him that first thing, before they'd even returned to the Temple, and his own impatience with the process. How many ten year olds that weren't raised by the Jedi would sit still more than a couple of minutes at a time? Obi-Wan had frequently said in a dry tone, 'You are always on the move, Anakin. Even while resting.' Later, he'd shortened it to simply, 'Always on the move', a gentle, affectionate tease.

"Oh yes. Then let's move on. I believe these new techniques will bring much success to this process, though I do want you to enroll in Anger Management when it's offered next. The class being full does not excuse you from the necessity of it, Lord Vader. You need to face your pain and anger and not shy away from it."

"I understand."

"Good. Take a look at these."

The brochures piqued his interest and Anakin listened carefully as a new plan for treatment was outlined.

~~~~~~~~~~

Vader's medical file was growing by the day it seemed. Palpatine leafed through the latest pages, noting how he could best sabotage the doctor's efforts and Anakin's progress. This would work much quicker if Vader would actually help instead of sitting there inside Anakin doing nothing. But oh, no, he was letting Palpatine do all the work. As usual.

He sighed, glancing at the list. Music therapy huh? With a small thoughtful smile, he pulled out the season schedule for the opera house and perused it. Wonderful. They were performing tragedies all season. Tragedies were good music for a Sith. No nauseating happiness anywhere on the stage. A cackle left his throat as he mused upon Anakin's reaction.

The boy had been the usual young man in regards to music, eschewing anything he considered for old people. Like opera.

He jotted down a note. Have an order sent to Vader to meet me at the opera house two days from now for the evening performance. There, that should do nicely.

~~~~~~~~~~

Can't he get one of his aides to sit here and be bored with him? Why do we have to be here?

Shush, Anakin told Vader. I'm trying to listen. Doc says music is good for us. It's therapeutic.

After several more tries to get Anakin to rebel, Vader went silent. Frustration swelled inside Anakin as the music continued. A soprano hit a high note and pretended to die on stage. She didn't do too badly either. All that was missing was a good amount of blood. Then came low, somber notes, the other actors laying her on a stretcher and carrying her about while they sang something about gods carrying her to her final resting place. Nice slow intricate weavings of instruments and voice.

Anakin and Vader both perked up, their thoughts coinciding without even one shudder on Anakin's part. They were in agreement. Now this--

...is music I can...

...enjoy. It's passionate and full of...

...emotion and it speaks...

...to me.

Anakin and Vader settled back into the seat and watched the drama unfold on stage, head tilted as they listened with rapt attention and full appreciation of the choral pieces.

Doc had such a good idea with this, Anakin thought. I'll have to thank him.