If Vader thought he was confused before, he didn't even want to try to explain what he was feeling now. Nothing seemed to make sense. His walls were falling. His rules were breaking. His world was collapsing. He felt… lost. He was Darth Vader, a man– a monster that was never confused. He made others confused. He made others have fear. He made others suffer… but not today. Today, he was at the receiving end... and the fact enraged.
It was all because of that damn senator. Senator Amidala. The woman that had been thrown into his life without warning. She was what caused his confusion… and the more Vader thought about it, the more she, herself, made no sense. Who was she? Where did she come from? And most importantly, how could such a small, innocent, annoying young girl cause his life so much torture… So much misery? Vader was convinced she had to be an angel. An angel brought into hell to fight the devil himself. They both knew who would win the war, but she had decided to go down swinging. She was a fighter, even if most people did not see it. He did. He knew. She was an angel that was going to make him remember what hell really was. How could I have been so stup–No. Not stupid, weak.
Vader growled, outraged with his thoughts.
Confusion and weakness?
He began to pace back and forth through his chambers, practically burning his footprints into the floor.
What is happening to me?
He had no idea, but he was certain he didn't want to know. How had he allowed her to see his weakness? How had he allowed himself to have a weakness? How could he allow her to have any hold over him? He was losing it. A common occurrence that seemed to be happening since her arrival into his life.
Kriffing Senator.
She had asked him to feel. Feel what? He had no idea, but whatever it was… He had felt it. Not just her skin or signature through the Force, but her… power? Not power over him, of course, but power when they touched. He couldn't explain it, but it just… made sense? It was a feeling he had never felt before, or if he had ever felt it, it wasn't in this life.
Darth Vader did not have needs, but he needed to touch her again. He needed something. A touch? A connection? He didn't know, but something had awoken inside of him, a need that he needed to feed.
A touch? A connection? A need?
His anger began to boil, seething with each passing thought. He did not have needs. He did not need luxuries. He did not need a connection. He did not need Senator Amidala.
But he knew who did.
Instantly, any and every object near Vader shattered into a million pieces as he slammed his fist into the nearest wall, leaving a large dent. The heat rising from his own body began to turn Vader into a walking explosive and he quickly began shedding his clothes. As usual, the coldness greeted him, but not with the usual needles to his body. His wounds were far too large and fresh for needles, and although Vader had managed to heal the smaller injuries, the large ones' pain still remained. The coldness slammed into his sides, knocking his breath away. He ignored it, sucking in a quick breath of air as he made his way to the fresher.
When he reached the small room, his hands wrapped around the sink, before he turned to the mirror. He dared not look to his face, knowing of the reminder he felt every time he looked. Instead, he looked to his body. To the wounds, bruises, and scars that were engraved into his skin. Even when he healed them, they always remained. They never truly healed; he could just stop them from bleeding. He had hundreds, if not more; far too many to count. Injury on top of injury. Scar on top of scar. The new wounds were still fresh, not because he couldn't heal them, but because he enjoyed the pain. Pain was always his reminder. Pain was always there.
But so was his true reminder.
Finally, looking up to his face, Vader was greeted with piercing golden blue eyes, and immediately a roar escaped from his chest as his hand slammed into the mirror, shattering it into a million pieces.
No! No! No!
There should be no trace of him there.
Soon he would be gone forever, burned away. Every and any tace of him would be gone, and the true Darth Vader would rise of the ashes.
But it was never soon enough.
Still, even with the reminder… he was Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith. He had no needs. He had no feelings. His life was power, death, and destruction. He perhaps, needed that. He craved it, but nothing else.
Power.
Death.
Destruction.
He just needed an awakening.
Vader smiled, a very sinful smile before he turned and exited the fresher. He knew what he needed… and more importantly, he knew exactly how to get it.
Hours later, Padme awoke to the sound of the door opening to her room and a very happy greeting of, "Good morning, Mistress Amidala."
Peeling her eyes open, she turned over in the bed. "Good morning, Threepio." She said with a sleepy smile. Usually, she would be embarrassed with such a behavior, but she was so happy, she didn't care at all. She was happy because of so many reasons, but mostly because of Vader. She knew he had felt something, just like she had. So it was undoubtfable now, there was something within in him… something human. She knew it.
"Sorry to wake you up, Mistress," 3PO apologized as he shuffled towards her with her usual breakfast food tray, "But it is almost ten in the morning."
Padme frowned. "Ten?" She asked, as she pushed herself up from the mattress to meet the droid, "Why didn't you wak e me up?"
3PO paused immediately at her words and gave her a funny look, before noticing his mistake. "My apologies, Mistress." 3PO said quickly, as he awkwardly put the try down on her lap, "I just assumed that after yesterday's incident, that you knew you were to remain here until further notice."
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