Vader lay still, trying not to move. He was trying to sense the whole galaxy at once, if only so he could block out the all-too-present reality of his own body.
And this was a good place to do it.
It was a beautiful planet, he knew, and it made him feel all the more wretched for marring its surface with himself.
The disgusting, ruined, evil thing he was now.
How long would it have been now, he wondered, since he had last sat with Obi-Wan, and joked about being a blessing to any planet he graced with his presence? How long since Padmé would have laughed, and agreed?
He choked on tears, and pain wracked his body again. Cursing himself, he struggled to get his already regulated breathing properly under control, staring through blurry, unfocused eyes at the ceiling of his hospital room.
His whole body ached, and for the first time in years, he caught himself wanting his mother.
He had known Palpatine would be a cruel master, quick to anger, easy to disappoint, and nearly impossible to satisfy, but the sensation of lightning tearing into his body from a galaxy away, leaving him twitching and broken on the floor was too much. It was a caliber of cruelty he had not experienced since he had been a child, unable to earn such punishment, but always with his mother to crawl back to.
Always with her existence to comfort him, to force him to breathe deeply, and stand back up, and continue the fight.
And now she was gone. And his wife was gone, and his teacher, the man who had raised him, who had claimed to love him….
And how could Obi-Wan have pretended for so long? It must have been real on some level, some all too clear and consuming level… So clear in the way Obi-Wan had treated him, covering up his failings to meet the Jedi code, allowing him to continue to see Padmé when it must have been so obvious.
Padmé. He wanted her with him. She had once sat next to him in the hospital, stroking his hair as he had struggled to accept the loss of his limb. He remembered her moving the prosthetic, hiding her discomfort at its cold inhuman state to hold it, manipulating his fingers slowly, helping him learn to move it himself.
She would have hated what he'd become.
He closed his eyes, trying to imagine her before him now, horror and fury twisting her familiar face.
She had hated him on the landing platform. And he knew that he deserved nothing better! He was a killer, a murderer, a torturer, a Sith. He deserved hatred. He deserved torture, and isolation, and the loss of everything he had been, and everyone he had ever loved.
He deserved it, he deserved it, he deserved it.
He was hunching, sending agony through every inch of his decimated body all over again as he tried to hide from that truth. He had never deserved Padmé, but it didn't change how badly he wanted her back.
"This room."
Vader froze, his eyes still squeezed shut, and his nerves still on fire.
Who was that?
"Sweetheart, I think there are other patients who'll be more responsive," answered another voice, and Vader recognized the tone of someone who knew who he was, in comparison with the girl.
Of course they shouldn't enter this room. She was only a child, and he didn't deserve to be visited.
But part of him wanted it, in spite of himself. He was alone because he deserved nothing better, but once, he had had company when in pain. People had cared for him, and been with him, and he had thought it would always be that way.
"Him," the child's voice said. "He's alone."
There was a pause, before the man answered. "Alright, sweetheart. Be brave."
"I always am," she said, and Vader could hear a smile in her little voice, and struggled to contain one of his own. "Boost me onto the bed before you go?"
"Of course," he said, and Vader tensed as he felt the bed move as the girl was placed next to him.
"Hello, sir," the girl said, and Vader felt her slowly lift his hand.
Carefully, he managed to open his eyes again, and looked up at the girl, and her father standing over them both, a protective hand on her shoulder.
She looked like an angel, the sun silhouetting her from the small window, shining through the frizz of her braided hair like a halo. Her face was gentle, inviting, as though she was allowing him to tell her all his troubles so she could take them away.
"Hello, princess," he croaked back, doing his best to make his voice audible, but suspecting that he had failed.
He wasn't meant for talking, without Vader's persona and power, the strength he no longer had for himself.
Bail was looking increasingly uncomfortable, seeming ready to snatch his daughter back off the bed at a moment's notice.
"Do not… worry," Vader said, meeting his gaze to the best of his impaired vision. "I will not… harm her."
"I can do a hospital visit," the girl added, turning back to her father with exasperation.
For another moment, he watched Vader, as though waiting for some tic that would prove him dangerous, as though his history had not already done that. Then he bent, and gently kissed the girl's forehead.
"Alright, Leia. I'll see you in a few hours."
The little girl smiled up at him, craning her neck to kiss his cheek, "I'll see you," she said brightly.
Watching them part, Vader suddenly remembered his own daughter, the child who had died with Padmé, and he felt a jab of jealousy.
After everything he had done, to save Padmé, to stabilize the galaxy for their child, he had failed, and it had gone to waste. His hard work, his pain, his losses were now this girl's gains. He had earned nothing, and she had benefitted from all of it, and had no idea.
He squeezed her hand, painfully drawing it to his chest.
This was what he'd wanted, really. He hadn't only wanted to save the galaxy for himself, there had been a thought given to the children his daughter would play with, care about, and know.
He had wanted to save the galaxy.
And if a child could sit on his bed, and hold his hand, he hadn't failed yet.
"My name is Princess Leia Organa," the girl said softly, in a clearly practiced bedside tone.
As though any kind of bedside manner was necessary for him. Vader would have almost liked to express amusement, but he suddenly realized that it seemed he'd forgotten how.
"Hello."
"I'm doing some visits today," she informed him, leaning against his side.
Vader took a deep breath, steadying his façade against the pain of the little girl's weight. "Is that so."
"Yes," she nodded, rubbing his hand again. "I'd like to sit with you a while."
He smiled slightly, his mouth barely moving, uncooperative when faced with the forgotten expression. "You may."
She nodded, and shifted her legs out from under her, curling up against him, her long hair falling over the blanket.
She was so beautiful, he thought, reaching up to gently touch her cheek, making her smile, then giggle, and push his hand back to his chest. She was here, an image of the galaxy he fought to protect, the recipient of the positive aspects of his every action. His success.
"So, the princess of Alderaan," he said slowly, and she smiled, before grabbing a fistful of hair in each hand, and twisting it up into a messy facsimile of a royal hairstyle.
"Yep!"
He laughed, and the action tore through his throat, so painfully similar to Palpatine's punishment. Why did it have to be this way, why did Palpatine have to take everything away!
But the little girl's smile was fading into concern, and she was leaning in, looking worriedly into his face, and he was able to see her properly for the first time.
She almost looked like Padmé.
"Do not be concerned," he said, daring to try to shake his head.
"You're hurt," she murmured, and small, cool fingers gently touched his face.
He captured her hand, folding it in his own, "Think nothing of it."
"But this wasn't an accident," she begged, squeezing his hand, her brow wrinkling with worry.
Such innocence. That she would see that, and worry for him, not be driven into hatred. She was coddled, he supposed, carefully reaching out to put an arm around her, drawing her closer to his field of vision.
"The galaxy can be cruel, little one. I am glad of the rest."
"I'll sit with you," she promised, "I'll come see you every day!"
"There is no need of that," he shook his head, "Although I would appreciate it."
She nodded determinedly, before cuddling up to him again, seeming almost frightened of his scars, his wounds…
Feeling her anxiety acutely, he began to stroke her head, trying his best to be reassuring.
"Tell me about your planet, princess."
"You're not from here?" she asked, her eyes opening wide, confused.
"I am from far, far away," Vader answered. "I do not belong here, but due to my injuries, I cannot be moved."
She nodded gravely, pressing herself dangerously close to his hidden chest panel as she reached out to hold a hand in each of hers.
"It's beautiful. There're lots of gardens, and trees to climb, and Winter and I like to go play in the waterfalls. Sometimes we gotta do politics stuff, though…" she trailed off, picking at a scab on her arm, "Vader was here a few days ago."
"Is that so?" Vader asked, his hand stopping against his will. What had Palpatine told the galaxy? All Vader knew was that he had failed, and been brutally punished immediately, his transgression so great that Palpatine had been unwilling to wait until he was somewhere he could be retrieved from.
"Yeah," the girl said. "He disappeared, though… we don't know where he is."
She frowned, gripping Vader's hands, and clinging to him as if for safety, before sitting up, and meeting his eyes with determination. "But we'll keep you safe! Wherever he is, Dad's gonna find him, and make him go back to space, and then we'll all be okay!"
He smiled again, feeling her words twisting in his gut. She was safe because of what he'd done, but it still wasn't enough for her to see past the mask…
Or perhaps she had, and what she'd seen there had scared her just as much.
"I know you will," he told her. "Your father is a good man, and a great leader."
He remembered his wife's friendship with the king of Alderaan, sitting in on their discussions of reform for the galactic senate, to make it less vulnerable to corruption. Holding Padmé on his lap afterwards, and tickling her while she tried, between laughter, to explain their conversation to him.
Bail was like Padmé, in a way. He could be trusted with power, wouldn't go mad with it, as the Jedi had, as Palpatine had, as Vader caught himself doing.
"And I'll help," Leia agreed, pillowing her head on her arm, still resting over him, though he hardly noticed the pain now.
"I am confident that you will," he agreed, smiling at her again. She was so small, so young, so clearly afraid of Vader, but she would make these promises to the vulnerable citizens of her planet. "You will be a great leader."
She smiled, and Vader watched her eyelids droop as she slipped her little hand into his.
"You seem tired," he said, remembering their earlier conversation, "Were you up late, playing with your friend?"
She yawned, before nestling back against him, "M…maybe…"
"And I suppose your father didn't know?" he asked. It was strange, he liked this girl more than he wanted to admit to himself. She was just enough like his younger self had been, but perhaps her father's political ways had rubbed off on her enough to remind him of Padmé…
She smiled sheepishly, "No…"
He shook his head slightly, laying his arms over her, and tucking her in a spare fold of a blanket, "I will wake you before he returns."
She pushed herself up suddenly, and he gasped at the pressure.
A look of guilt washed over her face, and she mumbled an apology, before scooting up on her knees, and carefully kissing his forehead.
"Thank you," she whispered, still looking ashamed.
He shook his head, folding his arms around her again, "Think nothing of it, princess."
She nodded sleepily, her little fists moving, until she grasped a handful of blankets in each, and she fell still, her eyes sliding closed.
"Vader will not harm you," he promised, slowly stroking her head, and watching as her mouth slipped open somewhat as she drifted off. "No one will."
She was the age his and Padmé's child would have been… and she had come to him, to sit on his bed, and speak with him, and had been willing to fall asleep on his chest.
And he reached out to the Force, swirling it around them, and prodding her sleeping consciousness gently.
Force sensitive, as he had suspected.
She didn't seem to know, though, and he tightened his arms around her, deciding that Palpatine could weather the existence of just one Force sensitive child in the galaxy.
She had sensed, on some level, that he would be safe to sleep next to, despite her obvious fear of Vader.
Perhaps… he would allow himself to pretend, just for now, just until he was sent back to the Empire… that she was his, and he deserved to hold her. That he deserved to even see a child, after all he'd done.
She murmured something in his sleep, and he smiled, closing his eyes as well.
His last thought before he drifted off was that he wouldn't be able to warn her about her father's return.