Reflection
Characters : Vader, mentions of Padmé, Obi-Wan.
Timeframe: One year post ROTS
Genre: Angst
Summary: A Vader one shot reflection.
There was only white around him.
White. Cold and harsh.
And silence.
No.
Not even silence, the rhythmic breathing resonating coldly in the bare room. His new quarters were cold and uninviting, harsh blinding light and stark white covering the clinical walls. The room reflected his state of mind completely. He stood there uselessly, trying to concentrate on the rhythm his breathing was making, willing the painful images away. But they seemed to return even stronger inside the helmet. There was nothing else but them in front of him, tainted with red but all too vivid.
Today.
Today.
He had tried to forget, doing his duty, his heart as icy as it should be. But he caught this transmission on the HoloNet and he was lost.
His fists clenched as his breathing seemed to resonate more harshly.
What kind of anniversary was this? How could people celebrate this?
They were celebrating death. They were celebrating loss. They were celebrating void.
They didn't even know her. They loved a holopicture, a symbol. They didn't love her. They couldn't possibly understand. They had no right to celebrate something that should be forgotten. Something that should be buried.
Buried.
A moan escaped his mask, horribly distorted.
Images assaulted him as he remembered.
There had been a transmission of a celebration on Naboo -of all planets- on the Holonet and he had been intent on shutting down the device when something caught his attention.
She was there. Flowers in her hair. Thousands of people around her so still body.
He had stayed transfixed even as his eyes burned and he couldn't help but watch the hypnotic form, the hypnotic funerals as commentators were reminiscing the saddest day in Naboo history. He didn't know what hurt the most then.
Seeing her still form as she was whisked away to her-
-grave.
Seeing her round belly and all it implied.
Or seeing the jappor snippet tightly held in her tiny hands.
He didn't even remember the way toward his quarters. And now he stood, his hands shakily wrenching the mask away from his face as pressurized air erupted in the room.
Everything span around him. And he pressed gloved hands on each side of his face, willing the pictures away from his mind, away from him, away, away…
But everywhere he looked he could only see her closed eyes, her fingers curling around the pendant. He looked ahead numbly and his eyes caught something different.
It was horrible.
It was disgusting.
It didn't take him long to figure out that this horrific vision was his face.
He didn't even remember he was supposed to kill the officer who left a mirror in his quarters, only took a tentative step towards the glass in front of him and approached it carefully.
He had not looked at himself in a year.
He reached the simple mirror and saw the instinctive grimace of repulsion edge on his face.
They had sealed his face in a helmet, in a black prison and he had never wanted to look out of it before.
But now he watched. He watched the barely healed tissues. He watched the pale flesh, covered with red scars, the thin, burnt lips, the bald head and smelled the disgusting scent of his flesh. He suspected he would always smell this around him.
His eyes rested on himself once again.
"The eyes are the windows to the soul."
Her voice washed over him and he saw his reflection wince visibly.
His eyes were blue.
Tinged with red, his eyes never quite recovering from the immolation, but blue.
He approached further, fascinated and repulsed by his reflection and stared into his own eyes.
They were blue.
He stood there, transfixed as he realized that he had not looked at himself since-
The last time he saw his reflection had been his face reflecting on the Jedi Council room's glass as he strained to look over to her apartment. He remembered the tear travelling his cheek as he stood there, helpless and scared to death.
The image changed.
His disgusting face disappeared and moved into his youthful self. He was seeing himself straightening his spiky hair, numbly pushing his Padawan braid behind his ear.
He was rearranging his tunic nervously, licking his lips and appraising himself in the mirror.
Would she find him attractive enough? Would she remember him at all?
A hand rested on his shoulder abruptly and a knowing smirk appeared beside his reflection. The warm voice of his Master washed over him as he strained not to laugh. But his smile was soothing.
"Enough, now, Anakin. We are going to be late."
He snapped out of his reverie abruptly and the image vanished. The soothing voice of his Master disappeared, the blond hair and nervous smile vanished into thin air, leaving him in his cold room with the sound of the respirator over his head and a burnt scarred skin looking back at him.
He cursed himself, banishing his former Master from his thoughts as renewed hatred washed in his veins. Now he could only see the back of his mentor as he walked away, leaving him to burn. His fist clenched and he watched as his hand moved to shatter the glass but something stopped him.
His eyes were becoming yellow. He watched, fascinated, as the color covered his irises and smirked.
Better. Much better.
He didn't want to see those blasted blue eyes she loved so much. He didn't want to see anything left of Anakin.
Another memory assaulted him abruptly.
"I don't know you anymore!"
Was it what she saw then? Were his eyes yellow as he turned against her? Was this color the last thing she saw?
His reflection vanished again, replaced by another.
He stood there, in front of the elegant sink, leaning slightly on his arms, one glinting in the tamed light. Passing a hand on his tired features, he took a deep breath, his chest heaving slightly. A smile tugged at his lips and his eyes shone with a newfound light.
He was home. He was at peace.
They were going to be a family. The war would soon be over and his only worries would be about making her happy, making them happy. He passed a hand in his unruly hair and his eyes strayed to his scar, remembering her fright when she first saw it. He smirked at her later comment.
"It's very sexy."
A tiny hand moved on his bare chest from behind, soon joined by another as he felt her belly press against him. Her face playfully appeared from behind in the mirror. She was beaming. She was glowing.
His wife.
"You're beautiful." He whispered to her reflection.
She blushed and moved to stand beside him, her eyes resting on his in the mirror.
"You've said it already, remember?"
But she was smiling anyway and he loved her, so much, he thought he would burst.
"But it's true." He said, smirking as he moved behind her petite form this time. His arms slipped around her and rested on her swollen belly as she leaned in his embrace almost instantly. Resting his chin on the top of her head, he watched their reflections in the mirror.
She sighed contently and stroked his arms. In the mirror, he watched as one of her hands caressed the shiny metal. Her smile grew as she caught sight of his eyes roaming a little bit higher.
"What were you doing here all this time?" She teased, her brown eyes flickering up to his.
He bent down and nuzzled her neck quietly, his blue eyes resting on her reflection once again.
"I was thinking about you." He answered huskily.
She arched an eyebrow. "Or were you appraising yourself in the mirror?"
He laughed this time, the sound filling the room as she joined in. He spun her around quickly and she kissed him almost instantly as his flesh hand enclosed her cheek tightly.
"I'm the one appraising you, my love." She whispered, her hands roaming on his chest. Her lips drifted to his collarbone. "I'm so jealous of all those girls fawning over you." When she looked up, he caught the teasing in her eyes.
"You don't need to." He replied with a smirk.
"I'm yours."
Her eyes held surprise at his suddenly earnest tone. Eyeing him silently, she spun around and her eyes resting on his in the mirror she ran her hand on his chest. He felt his heart beat louder as he caught the wicked expression on her face.
Her small hands still resting on his tanned skin and a wicked glint in her eyes, she whispered to his reflection, "This is mine."
He didn't reply. Just watched her with a content smile on his face. Her face grew earnest, her brown eyes sparkling in the mirror as they bore into his blue ones and she whispered the most beautiful words in the galaxy to him.
"I love you."
He blinked and it all disappeared. There was no longer any teasing smile, taut chest, swollen belly or happiness.
There was only his disgusting face.
And he was alone in front of the mirror.
A groan erupted from his lips and he watched the glass shatter into million pieces. Some shards were biting his skin but he didn't even feel them. Only collapsed on the floor and felt the raw wound she left open again.
Before he knew it, he was crying out in sheer agony, his howls echoing in the empty room.
Time passed.
Minutes, hours, he didn't know.
He was numb again, the deep familiar ache in his chest coming back but he still couldn't move from his spot on the floor. His eyes caught sight of the greatest piece of the mirror lying there and his gloved hand took it numbly.
He watched blue haunted eyes stare back at him.
His glove smashed the remaining glass to pieces.