The Long Road Back

Chapter Eight: Discoveries

~~~~~~~~~~

Timtec Taytec loved his change of career. Working as an assistant in the psychiatric department was a nice change of pace from accounting. Accounting had been soooo stressful. In fact, he could barely remember his former career at all aside from that one little point. One of the psychiatrists told him he was repressing memories, but that was ridiculous, wasn't it? What was there to repress about the accounting department?

He looked over his schedule for the day, noted that he was taking the quarterly report to the Emperor for his employer after lunch.

Timtec rubbed a hand across his chest. Did it just get harder to breathe in here? Yes, he could hear his own wheezing. Strange. He didn't recall ever having a panic attack before. He spent the morning in a bizarre state of anxiety and when the time for his meeting had come, he squared his shoulders and tried to ignore the dread snaking through his body.

He had a bad feeling about this.

~~~~~~~~~~

Palpatine lifted the last of the lists he had to go through, sighing as he read the names of those enrolled in the Anger Management class currently being offered on Vader's ship. In hindsight, he should have set this up so he didn't have to approve everything, but it had seemed a wise idea at the time, a way to keep an eye on Vader's management tactics. It also meant he had an excuse to come and snoop around whenever he wanted.

He glanced up at the man waiting, thought for a second that he looked familiar, then shrugged as he returned his attention to the psychiatric department reports. Just another underling. They all looked the same after awhile anyway. Palpatine thumbed through the list. Though the class was halfway over, he had to approve tuition. He smothered a yawn as he read, barely registering the names on the screen.

'Topher Parin, Rich Quin, Lars Rupak, Anakin Skywalker, Quras Spen--'

Whoa. Wait a minute.

He scrolled back up, attention perking just a bit.

Anakin Skywalker?

Palpatine linked several time, making sure his vision wasn't playing tricks on him and finally rolled his eyes. What kind of morons was he employing that they didn't recognize the name Anakin Skywalker? That right there should have been a red flag for these idiots. The 'hero without fear' was supposed to be dead and gone, so he couldn't be enrolled in Anger Management classes. They should have noticed that and reported to him immediately. Really, were they all incompetent? Did he have to spell things out?

Raising a hand, he threw the underling across the room and watched him hit the wall with a thud and crumple unconscious to the floor. He was beginning to get the feeling that Anakin was completely crazy. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing for a Sith apprentice. However, it made him harder to control if Palpatine couldn't predict what he'd do. And it was coming to the point where he wasn't able to fully predict what Anakin would do. There had to be a reason Vader was having trouble reemerging and if Anakin had gone over the deep end, that might make him the stronger one. The previous holds Vader had used over Anakin might not even work anymore. There had to be something, however. He planned on finding it.

Right now, though, Palpatine needed to have a little talk with Anakin about that class.

~~~~~~~~~~

Anakin stalked from the room Palpatine had been using as a throne room during his visit. Senile, vengeful old man! He growled low in his throat and when that felt satisfying, he did it again, then raised his hands and directed his growing annoyance outward. The sides of the passageway buckled outward, the metals screeching.

That's it, Anakin, doesn't that feel good? A little more, if you would. Let it all out. Let me out.

Vader's voice was a soothing, oily, coaxing serpent, slithering on the periphery of himself, waiting, growing stronger.

Anakin paused, placed his hands on the buckled wall and his head down. "No," he shouted, trying desperately to calm his breathing and his anger. He tapped the wall with his palms -- counting one, two, three, four five, a count with each tap, a repetitive motion. With a gulp, he forced himself to focus on that single thing, letting his counting drown out Vader's voice until he felt Vader's frustration first build, then wane as Anakin regained full control.

Slowly, he took a deep breath and let it out. He hated being reprimanded and always had, but Palpatine had the ability to make him feel as though he was always in error on every single thing he did, no matter if he'd been following orders or not. It had done no good to tell Palpatine that he'd been following his doctor's recommendations. Palpatine insisted he cease attending Anger Management immediately, or else he'd be disciplined.

A movement caught his eye and he bent, snatching up the mouse droid. Those little droids had recently begun to show up on all the ships. Probably one of those projects from a learn at home droid building course. They were surprisingly simple to build and a good beginner lesson. He'd built a few himself. Of course, he'd only been six at the time and it had been to demonstrate for a friend how to do it.

Opening it up, he studied the design, shoving aside his embarrassment and irritation at having been so humiliatingly dressed down. Gradually, he noticed several little tweaks he could give that would improve the little guy. Taking it to his quarters, Anakin began to work, letting the process soothe him even more.

A plan formed in his mind, the perfect way to get back at old Palpatine. Not to mention that it was a good practical joke to play on Tarkin. He liked Tarkin, but the man needed to relax. He was far more uptight on duty than Anakin had ever accused Obi-Wan of being. Anakin smiled and sat back, imagining Tarkin and Palpatine both tripping over mouse droids. Then he smiled wider at the thought of cheap Palpatine having to hire someone to get rid of all the mouse droids that had begun to multiply faster than they could be removed.

Vader even approved, suggesting a few more tweaks, though Anakin nixed the idea of trying to make them into little assassins to kill Palpatine in his sleep. It wasn't until later that he realized Vader had been joking.

That was it then. He'd catch a few more of these, fix them, then release them on Palpatine's ship and the Death Star. Oh, and every other ship he went on.

~~~~~~~~~~

The ivy had taken over. Padmé had finally given up trying to rip it out. Now, she simply cut it away from the doors and windows and let it grow. Dormé's little cottage was beginning to look like part of the land itself, a little hill covered in greenery. Padmé winced and realized she needed professional help. She couldn't do this herself anymore. She'd have to hire a crew to come out and take out the ivy for her.

By late afternoon she'd arranged just that, determined to clean-up the cottage in case Dormé and Obi-Wan ever came here. She didn't think Dormé would appreciate the ivy everywhere.

Going into the kitchen, she took out her latest cooking project and dished it up. This time, the stew actually smelled like stew and she thought that maybe it might be edible. It smelled like it, but she'd learned that sometimes even that wasn't the case with her mistakes. With extreme caution, Padmé took a bite. She chewed, then nodded, swallowed and smiled, taking another bite.

I did it, she thought. I can cook!

After a rather satisfying dinner she'd prepared with her own two hands, Padmé sat down to read Ani's latest letter. She was getting worried about him. Well, more than usual. He'd told her about being diagnosed with SAD and the treatment, but from his letters she didn't think the treatment was working right. He was all over the place in his responses, his manner changing, becoming....

She sighed, her good mood slipping away as though it had never been there at all. He was behaving much like he had at the end. He'd complained of fatigue and sleeplessness, of moods where he had trouble with anger and irritability. He'd talked of an increase in headaches. Padmé glanced through her file of notes on the condition and that treatment. Time for 'Waiting' to give her opinion and he wasn't going to like it.

At least he's talking about it, she thought. The last time he wouldn't.

Bending her head, she began to write.

~~~~~~~~~~

"The problem with following a recipe is that I can't get distracted."

Would Waiting want to cook for him eventually, Anakin wondered. He'd like that domestic scene and the intimacy of it, but after her spectacular failures in that department, he wasn't sure he'd really want to eat anything she prepared.

"I'll be fine until I consider the latest in galactic news or family matters and before I know it, I've added one cup instead of one-fourth and the recipe is ruined. I am getting better however and speaking of getting better.... I don't wish to stick my nose in where it isn't wanted, but your last couple letters have alarmed me, ID. You weren't yourself, not the man I'm coming to know. The headaches, fatigue and moods? Those are all danger signs with any treatment, be it chemical or other. See your doctor, ID. Immediately. I'm not joking. You need to get medical help."

A sweet concern, but rather bossily worded.

You'd think she was our wife or something, Vader said. What do you see in this woman, anyway?

Anakin considered Vader's comment. Vader was right. Waiting's concern was almost wifely. He knew Padmé would have urged him to see a doctor. Was Waiting right about those being danger signs? Maybe he would go see doc.

He got ready for bed, but was up after only a few hours, unable to sleep. Perhaps he'd numb his mind with late-night entertainment. That usually helped him sleep. Getting back out of bed, he lounged on his couch doing just that. There was nothing on save infomercials for various products and none that were particularly fascinating....

Wait a minute. That showed promise.

Anakin watched the infomercial with interest. Boy, they sure were making advances in the area of male enhancement drugs these days. And to think, if he hadn't been awake at this hour, he'd never have known! He watched and listened with rapt attention. There were few side-effects and apparently it really helped the...fun to last for hours.

There were testimonies from half a dozen happy couples as to the effectiveness of the drug and how it had enhanced their sex lives considerably. Of course, he didn't exactly have a sex life right now, though he hoped that was going to change in the near future.

He glanced at the datapad where all of Waiting's letters were. He was hoping they were nearing the point in their relationship where she'd agree to meet with him in person. It shouldn't be too hard to fake spotting a rebel signal or something from wherever she'd want to meet. He'd pretend to find one, then go meet her and come back claiming it had been an old signal. If not meeting, then perhaps she'd consent to speak face to face instead of sending letters. An actual picture would be good too. Then maybe he wouldn't be having these irksome dreams that she was Padmé when he knew very well that his wife was dead.

'Waiting' claimed to be shy, but he just didn't get that vibe from her writings.

The infomercial began over.

'Waiting' needed to give him some hint of her face or voice soon because those dreams he was having were starting to make him uneasy. He'd read her letters and hear Padmé's voice in his mind, picture Padmé at a desk writing. She wasn't Padmé because Padmé was dead, but those dreams.... Anakin blotted his suddenly damp forehead with his palm. Those dreams were something else, swirling erotic images that lingered in his mind long after waking. He could barely get his work done during the day without thinking of them!

He really wanted to see Waiting's face. Heck, he'd even settle for a neck to ankle image if she claimed it hers. Something, anything he could dream of instead of Padmé.

Returning his attention back to the infomercial, Anakin noted that the side effects were dry mouth, sleeplessness, dizziness and a drop of blood pressure. Pretty much the same things he had without the drug. Dry mouth from his continued need for the respirator, sleeplessness from the dreams and...well...could he really count the dizziness and blood pressure? Yes, he decided with snicker. When blood suddenly surged to one place on the body, he supposed there would be a loss of blood pressure that could account for his occasional dizziness.

He laughed and switched off the infomercial, mentally filing away the information for possible later use. With a yawn, he looked at his schedule for the next day, noticing that he had a doctor's appointment first thing. Strange, he didn't remember making an appointment earlier. Frowning, Anakin returned to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

The higher a patient was in the Imperial hierarchy, the more difficult he or she was to treat. That advice had been dispensed upon graduation and as Lord Vader's doctor, Sonas was well aware of that fact despite that one's cooperation so far with treatment. He shook his head, watching his patient and noticing straight away what he had feared was happening. He'd accepted cancellations two weeks in a row, but when Lord Vader claimed he couldn't fit him in at all, then something had to be done.

"Lord Vader," he began slowly and cautiously, remembering the man's ways of dealing with doctors in the past, "how many minutes are you up to with the light?"

There was silence, a guilty squirming in the chair and then a rush of words. "Fifteen minutes was working well, doctor, so I took it upon myself to increase the daily dosage and I believe it's been working quite well. You know, fifteen minutes isn't very long at all and I thought longer wouldn't be harmful in the least, so I'm up to about fifty minutes, spread out into two times a day--"

"I see. Have you had any trouble with an increase of temper?"

More silence. "Perhaps a bit."

"You're awfully...jittery today, Lord Vader, has that been a regular occurrence as well?"

The shifting and squirming did not cease. "Sometimes. Why do you ask?"

"Those are possible side effects, Lord Vader. There are others, but I feel we should discontinue treatment for awhile, just to make sure the light isn't causing them, you see. Once we rule out the light, you can go back to using it." He watched the black mask, wishing he could see his patient's face, have some clue as to what he was really feeling. A patient's face could tell so much! But he never saw the man's face. Always the mask and sometimes, he wondered if Lord Vader had a personality problem and that Sonas was merely treating the symptoms and not the man himself.

How did he come to that conclusion? Sometimes during their sessions, it was like Lord Vader was listening to another voice aside from Sonas'. The way he'd listen to Sonas, then wait before answering, his head shaking or nodding before he spoke.

"Fine," Lord Vader said. "I'll bring the light here to you to hold for me."

A wise decision. Once Lord Vader had gone, Sonas, began to work on his idea, calling up different texts and perusing notes made by all the other doctors before him. After a long day, he had much to think about and the slightest belief that his latest idea was correct.

Lord Vader had two personalities.