DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Each noticeable character, location, etc... is the property of the original creator or whomever currently holds the license and rights. I make no profit from this piece of fanfiction, make no claim to anything other than the idea and the order of the words. I also make absolutely no profit whatsoever.
No one would believe Lord Vader could dream. After all, he couldn't smile, or cry. Even his laughter sounded false, mechanical and cold and as harsh as the breath forced through artificial lungs.
Lord Vader; not man, not machine. He was a twisted mix of both, with a soul as black as the head-to-toe armor and oppressive mask he wore. Dark Lord of the Sith, second only to the Emperor, the last link between the new Empire and the Jedi Order. A man who could kill with just a thought, who had the power to choke the life from anyone who crossed him with a simple gesture. Feared, hated, resented, that was Lord Vader.
No one remained who had known him as Anakin Skywalker. Anakin, a boy thrust into a world so strange to him, feared and resented for his power, for his abilities. A young man who was thought to be the best pilot in the galaxy, the Hero Without Fear. Just a boy who lost sight of the truth, mind clouded with fear and guilt and sorrow. No one knew that all the pain and suffering he had inflicted might have been avoided had he only been left to his own devices, or perhaps only trained differently.
Anakin Skywalker had lost all hope, and in his despair, in his fear, in his weakest moment, he had been consumed. Lord Vader had possessed him, overpowered him. Anakin was not dead. Death would be a welcome release from the agony he was in. No, Anakin was a prisoner within the decimated body, trapped by anger, by hate.
In waking moments, Anakin was lost. But when Vader slept, Anakin remembered.
He remembered Obi-Wan. A Padawan forced far too painfully into the rank of Knight, who resented his Master's order to train a child. A Knight who learned to love the boy as a friend, as a brother.
Together, Anakin and Obi-Wan had grown together. Laughed and cried and learned together. Obi-Wan, with blue-gray eyes that always seemed to see more than most. The Negotiator, a great pilot and swordsman who preferred talking to fighting, but could move between the two seamlessly. He remembered the laughter, the sparkle in his eyes in the rare moments they were not Jedi or Generals, but merely friends, brothers.
But mostly, when Anakin remembered, he remembered the pain in his brother's eyes, the tears so close to falling. The agony in his tone as he tried to make sense of why Anakin was lost to him, how he could not have seen Anakin be consumed by the treachery of the Sith. He should have died, should have perished on that molten planet with Obi-Wan's choked voice the last words he heard.
But he hadn't.
Vader lived.
And every night, Anakin wept.