"Please, take a seat, sir."
Darth Vader awkwardly looked around the operation room for a moment before settling on the cold table in the center, watching Kix walking around the room, flipping on various machines, and laying several items out on the countertop that lined the back wall.
Vader's feet dangled off the ground slightly as he scanned his surroundings, trying to grasp onto anyfamiliarity he could. There were a few machines that he didn't recognize beside the operation table, a large empty crate to his right, instruments that were so clean they sparkled—but nothing that eased his anxiety.
The past few rotations have blurred together in his mind, each moment feeling more and more comparable to an unhinged spice-trip, and he wasn't sure of much anymore—but he did know that he didn't like feeling out of place.
There was an uncomfortable beat of silence, only broken when he heard heavy footsteps clank against the ground. He tiredly glanced over at the door right, watching as a 2-1B surgical droid slowly entered the room.
"Lewis, can you perform the weaponry inspection?" Kix asked over his shoulder before giving him an apologetic grimace. "Sorry, sir. It's mandatory."
Vader decidedly disregarded the fact that they named their droid Lewis.
"Ahsoka already took most of my weapons." He felt around the back of his black utility belt, pulling out the idle lightsaber he had hidden. "This is the only thing I have left."
The droid stared at him, blankly. "I am still required to do the scan."
He blatantly ignored it, turning his attention to Kix with the device extended to him. "If I don't wake up, I need you to give this to her."
The clone furrowed his brows at his outstretched hand but hesitantly complied, gently putting the lightsaber into a storage pod in the corner of the room.
"I have to say, sir, it was quite a relief to see all of you," he slipped on some gloves before beginning to sterilize his tools. "I thought for sure that I was the only one in the 501st that survived everything."
Though his words were meant to be lighthearted, Vader heard the underlying grief in them. The medical droid started the exam, raising the scanner above his helmet and slowly letting it descend.
"It was strange waking up to a world where the war was over, and where everyone I ever knew was gone," The clone cleared his throat. "I'm just grateful that Senator Organa was the one that found my pod. I mean, Force only knowswhere I'd be otherwise."
Vader's breathing machine whirred. "I wish it ended differently."
Kix's hands stilled. "I'm sorry?"
"The war," he clarified, "I wish it ended differently."
Even with his voice modifier, the sincerity in his tone was a little too noticeable for his own liking. He shifted on the operation table, quietly fiddling with his gloves while Kix sanitized the remaining instruments.
"Serving alongside you was one of my life's greatest honors, sir," he admitted, turning his head to look at him. "You were the best general that my brothers and I could ask for."
Vader tried to shake his head, though his helmet prevented him from doing so effectively. "I don't deserve that anymore."
"You do to me," the former medic offered him a small, kind smile. "If it's any consolation—we've all done things we regret, sir. I believe that it's not our regrets, but what we do with them that defines us. We all have the opportunity to make things right."
The way that Kix looked at him made his chest clench guiltily—with eyes holding a certain compassion and understanding that he was wholly unworthy of. Despite everything, he still opposed the ways of the Jedi. It was a corrupt system, in his opinion. One he didn't believe should be salvaged.
But he knew that his views didn't fully align with the Empire anymore.
What else was there? Did a middle ground exist—one where he could find some peace of mind?
The droid turned the device off after the search was finished. "All clear."
"Thanks, Lewis," Kix said as it slowly stomped to a different corner of the room to prepare for the surgery. The droid powered on a large ventilation machine, and Vader absentmindedly listened to the low buzz it discharged.
The selfish part of him almost didn't want his humanity back.
He didn't wantto dwell on the memories of the massacres he commenced—the people he killed, the cities he brought to the ground to keep himself on top. He didn't want to feel their blood on his hands without a muddled mind, one that was obsessed with power and disconnected from his soul.
"We will need to begin now, sir."
Kix's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, a datapad-looking device in his hands. It beeped softly as he extended it toward him, slowly doing a scan over his limbs.
"I need to find a place to administer the drug into your bloodstream," he explained. When he reached his right arm, somewhere between his shoulder and where his elbow was supposed to be, he let out a satisfied 'gotcha' and turned to the droid.
"Lewis, grab a vein probe. Top drawer to the left."
As the droid followed Kix's orders, Vader tipped his head to the side, eyes landing on Ahsoka. She gave him a reassuring smile behind the observation glass as Kix grabbed a small pair of shears from his medical tray.
"I hope you aren't emotionally attached to that sleeve, General," he said lightly. "Go ahead and lie back. We'll fix you right up, sir."
Vader nodded, slowly moving his legs onto the operating table as he shifted into a lying position. His back lowered onto the metal, helmet making a sharp clank when it reached the table.
The medic grabbed onto his arm gently, sliding one of the blades into a place where the material wrinkled to clip it open. Vader shivered at the sudden gust of wind that hit his skin, watching Kix peel the heavy fabric off and toss it into the large crate next to them.
Kix took the vein probe and searched his exposed arm for a sufficient spot, a faint blue light emitting from the device as it hovered over his skin. A high-pitched beep resounded once it detected something, and Kix grabbed an alcohol pad to wipe the area clean as the medical droid prepared a syringe. After he was done, he threw the cloth into the trash can, taking the object from Lewis and turning to Vader.
"Just relax," Kix offered as he placed the needle up against his skin. "You'll be out before you know it."
Vader didn't wince at the sharp pain in his arm.
It only took a few minutes for his vision to dim, the world withering away as his eyelids grew heavy. He stubbornly resisted for a moment, not quite ready to sacrifice the little control he held, reeling in a few more breaths before his body gave into the artificial exhaustion.
»»««
"I have to sort this out on my own. Without the Council, and without you."
"You're going down a path I cannot follow."
"You were the Chosen One!"
Skywalker roused with a jolt.
"You're awake," someone breathed from his left, quickly accompanied by the sound of shifting fabric and footsteps. "He's awake!"
Skywalker blinked a few times to clear his blurred vision, wincing when he felt someone lightly push his shoulders back.
"Easy there, General," they spoke again, and although their face was still fuzzy, he immediately recognized their voice. "Don't try and strain yourself too hard."
"Kix, what happened?" he murmured, lifting a palm to his temple. "Did we—the surgery, did it—"
The words died in his throat as a thick wave of exhaustion crashed over him. His limbs felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each, joints grating painfully with every movement.
"Should we call in a transport for him?" He heard Rex ask.
A transport? Why would he need a—
"Master." There were two snaps in front of his face, ones he could feel more than hear. He winced. "Can you hear us?"
He forced his eyes open, the fog in his vision finally beginning to fade as a pained noise escaped his throat. He blinked harshly, trying to clear his muddled thoughts when he felt a gritty substance seep into his clothes through the open seams.
Force, he hated sand, he—
His movements paused as his mind slowly became more conscious.
There was no sand on Alderaan.
"Please, allow him some leeway, Ahsoka," a familiar Coruscanti accent echoed in his ears, causing every fiber in his body to go rigid.
What?
The voice got closer, more gentle. "Anakin, are you all right?"
Ignoring the way his muscles strongly opposed the action, he tipped his head up to the man standing above him.
Obi-Wan Kenobi.
"Kriff," he swore through gritted teeth as he tried to push himself away. His eyes flickered around his surroundings, confusion pooling in his mind. He was in a camp. Why was he in a camp? Why was Obi-Wan there? Where was—
"Hey, hey, take it easy, sir."
He turned to see Rex with his palms gently extended toward him, gesturing to calm down. Skywalker only stopped once he caught sight of the man's appearance. He was young. How was he so young? He didn't look like that when he went under—
Kix, who now had a shaved head that exposed his tattoos, waved over another clone. "Echo, can you grab some rations for him? He's probably starving."
"Of course, sir."
Skywalker twisted his head to see Echo begin to rummage through a Republican backpack, his mind whirling.
What was going on.
"Kix... the surgery," Skywalker managed, turning to the medic with an anxious look in his eyes. His voice sounded weird. "What happened?"
He furrowed his brows in perplexity. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't follow."
"The surgery to—" Then he paused, eyes widening. He shifted to look at his covered hands, flipping them front and back before he ripped one of his gloves off.
His hand was still there.
What was going on.
"Master, you're not making any sense." He glanced over to Ahsoka. She looked too young. "Do we need to call a transport?"
Echo handed Kix the rations, not bothering to conceal his concerned gaze. Skywalker instantly noticed the lack of metal caps and tubes drilled into his head.
"He doesn't look too hot, vod," Fives commented as he crouched beside him, but Fives shouldn't be here, because Fives is dead—
Dead. Was he dead too? Did he die during the surgery? Was this some sort of afterlife?
He glanced between the people in front of him.
It didn't look like any afterlife he deserved.
"Any progress with General Skywalker?" He whipped his head around to see Jesse jogging toward them.
"We're not sure yet." Kix glanced back over at him with a concerned look in his eyes. "General, do you know where we are?"
He looked around, trying to find something that looked familiar to him. GAR tents. An idle firepit. Sand, lots of it. Oh, that reminded him, it was seeping in through his boots—
"I don't know," he admitted. "I can't tell."
Obi-Wan and Ahsoka exchanged a look that Skywalker didn't bother acknowledging as he unsteadily rose to his feet. When his knees shook, he gritted his teeth and forced them to still, stumbling back a step or two before he was able to regain his balance.
Kix made a noise of disapproval. "Sir," he hissed, "you are in no condition to walk right now—"
"I'm fine," he growled back, knowing he was lying through his teeth when the ground began to sway, a surge of nausea threatening to knock him over.
Obi-Wan extended a hand to help him, only halting when Skywalker flinched away in response, screwing his eyes shut. He heard the man hesitantly move away before he slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the sun that harshly beamed down on them.
Ahsoka folded her arms over her chest, worriedly. "Master, we're just trying to help you."
"I don'tneed help, I need to know what's going on—"
All of a sudden, an explosion rattled the ground, causing all of them to stumble. Rex quickly put his arm under Skywalker's shoulder to help him stay steady, alarm in his eyes.
"Incoming!" A trooper called from the other side of the camp, nearly muted by the sound of marching battledroids upon the horizon.
Rex looked out onto the field, watching soldiers draw their weapons. "Battle stations!"
Ahsoka and Obi-Wan ignited their lightsabers, both easing into a combative stance as the clones got to their posts. Other than the portable Republican shelters, the terrain was level. There was no cover.
Then, blasters began to fire, red and blue bolts hurling as Rex ushered Skywalker to the closest thing they had as protection. The captain shoved his helmet on, taking out his dual pistols to fire.
Why were they being attacked at their camp? This wasn't right. This wasn't—
His head pounded at the sound of battle, and he subconsciously reached to his belt to draw his own weapon. The lightsaber he grabbed wasn't the same one that he expected, though—it was the one he used as a Jedi.
A bolt blew past him, narrowly avoiding his head, and he quickly decided it would have to do.
Skywalker took a breath before pushing a leg forward, slowly rising to his feet. Though the ground still swirled, he was able to get his bearings. He ignited the lightsaber as he made his way over to where Obi-Wan and Ahsoka stood, the blue beam making him wince slightly.
He deflected a few loose shots and swung his lightsaber in sync with the sound of the blasterfire, his muscles aching painfully with every swipe.
"Good to see you're back to normal, Master." Ahsoka offered a smile that quickly turned into a grimace as she Force-pushed a droid away.
Obi-Wan nodded in agreement, his eyes not leaving the battlefield. "You had us worried for a moment there, Anakin."
Skywalker couldn't find the words to reply, so he didn't. He pushed forward, slicing through a group of overzealous battledroids with an ease that he forgot existed. Up ahead, he could see a line of Separatist tanks forming.
He held his saber up with a scowl, planting his feet in between Ahsoka and Obi-Wan. He still didn't know what was going on—all he knew was that troopers were falling, and he had a deep-rooted instinct that forced him in front of them. They cut through a company of commando droids, the heavy metal chunks falling to the sand with each slice of their blades.
The tanks were no more than a klick away when he heard something behind him—a soft, barely perceivable whisper of his name. He craned his neck, glancing around the camp in search of the source.
"Master, what are you doing?" Ahsoka grunted as she decapitated a couple of droids. "We need you to cover your flank!"
"Anakin," the voice spoke again, this time more forceful. She repeated his name, her tone growing more and more anguished each time, and Skywalker could no longer focus on the battle.
That was his mother's voice.
His mind suddenly, abruptly became muddled, the pained sounds of combat fading into the distance as he pushed a foot forward. Every desire to aid in the fight had vanished. The world swayed, red and blue lights that he didn't care to acknowledge blurring at the corner of his eyes.
Her voice was coming from the tent.
He needed to get to her.
Rex suddenly appeared beside him. "You won't like what you see, sir."
He looked at the captain, watching as his helmet started to warp unnaturally—blue paint started leaking onto the black eye guard as the rim began to unhinge—but his mind didn't process it. The only thing he could think about was his mother.
He needed to see her alive.
Rex began to wither away as Ahsoka came into view.
"Master, you need to stop," she begged, her voice becoming high-pitched and distorted. Her face looked smudged. "Please, don't go in there."
His brain couldn't keep up. He just wanted to make sure she was safe. That was all he wanted. He needed to see her safe. His legs burned as he continued to trudge toward the shelter, feeling a tug on his soul that pulled him toward it.
There was an explosion on his left that sent a few troopers flying into the air, each landing with a sickening crack that his mind didn't fully register. If he was conscious, he would have checked for survivors.
"Anakin, stop." Obi-Wan finally stepped in front of him. He looked hollow, his words reverberating around him. "You cannot go down this path."
"She's in there," Skywalker managed, blinking harshly in a futile attempt to clear his dazed mind. "I have to get to her."
His former master grabbed onto him. "It's not worth it."
Skywalker pushed his hand away, wincing as Obi-Wan's nails tore into his skin. He finally ripped the cover open and stumbled into the tent, the sight inside hitting him like a pot of cold water when it fully cleared in his mind.
It was empty.
The pain in his arm seemed to jumpstart his senses. His eyes flashed, his knees beginning to feel unsteady as his trance wore off.
His mother wasn't there.
His legs buckled at the realization, mind going blank as he fell to the ground. He leaned forward, hitting the dust beneath him with curled fists. No, no, no. His head fell into his hands, fingers harshly pulling at his hair as an agonizing sob was ripped from his throat.
He mourned until he heard another voice calling for him outside, causing him to lift his tearstained face.
"Ahsoka?" he murmured. Skywalker walked out of the tent, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach when he realized he wasn't in the camp anymore.
He was in a village.
The sky had darkened, the only source of light coming from the flames that rose from the small huts. He saw Stormtroopers dragging people away in the distance, and he felt the wind of an Empirical shuttle overhead, puffing a thick layer of smoke toward him.
When the haze finally cleared, Skywalker finally noticed the myriad of bodies scattered across the dirt, lightsaber marks engraved deeply into their skin.
He knew this village.
He was the one that burned it down.
Skywalker shuttered in a breath, his eyes watering at the sharp stench of death that invaded his senses. Without his mask on, nothing protected him from the putrid smell of smoke and molten flesh. He scanned the area before his eyes landed on a figure—a child—wailing as she stood over the pile of ashes that was once her family.
His thoughts stalled when he heard the sound of mechanical breathing behind him, all of the color draining from his face. In, out. He slowly turned, watching Vader approach the child.
Skywalker mumbled unintelligibly to himself—a shaky mantra of no, no, no, no's—because he knew what happened next. He wanted to stop the scene from playing out in front of him, but he couldn't move. His feet were planted into the dirt like cement.
"Please, help me," the child whispered, her eyes wide with fear and her voice broken, and oh, so familiar. "Please, my family, they—"
The girl froze as a lightsaber was ignited in front of her, and Skywalker flinched when his past self brought his arm up to swing. All he could do was look away, closing his eyes tightly as the sound of a slice echoed through his mind.
Before he was able to do anything else, the soil shifted beneath him, the ground beginning to swallow him up whole. He clawed at the dirt desperately to fight against the landslide that dragged him down, his mind spinning, trying to understand. He realized that his efforts were futile when he only continued to slip away.
The next thing he knew, he was writhing on the black sand of Mustafar, looking up at his old Master with gold-tinted eyes. He cried out at the unexpected sensation of burning, and stinging, and shock that hit him all at once.
"You were my brother, Anakin," Obi-Wan bellowed, but Skywalker couldn't focus on anything other than the revolting smell of his own burning flesh. "I loved you!"
His mind whirled, pain clouding all of his senses. It was overwhelming. Smoke and sulfur infiltrated his lungs, causing his already strained breath to come out in short gasps. Steam emitted from the ocean of lava at his feet, each movement he took to climb the embankment only serving to thrust him closer and closer to the searing heat.
His vision began to dim, and he felt his consciousness slowly fade away. He struggled against it for a moment more, but after his clothes caught fire, he succumbed to the darkness.
»»««
Ahsoka Tano stood at the window, observing the operation with Bail Organa by her side.
There were tubes and machines all around Anakin—some plugging into the suit, others reaching into his skin directly. His helmet had long been discarded, hidden away in a large crate beside other pieces of his suit that Kix had carefully stripped away. He had a breathing tube shoved down his throat, the machine whirring quietly on his left.
"I don't understand," she broke the silence hesitantly. "Kix has been here for three cycles, and you've never thought to mention him?"
Bail shook his head lightly. "I suppose we've been a little too busy trying to lead a rebellion that it's slipped my mind."
"And you wonder where Leia gets her mouth," she mumbled, feeling the joke fall flat when he shot her a disapproving look. Accepting the defeat, she turned her attention back to the operation.
Despite most of his features being covered by his surgical mask, she saw Kix knit his brows in concentration as his hands worked on prying off his armor.
"His abilities have certainly improved," she noted. "I remember hearing of him performing a few emergency surgeries during the war, but they were never anything like this."
He hummed. "We offered him some education after he recovered from cryo to advance his practice. He is a quick learner. He got through the program faster than anyone we've ever seen."
Ahsoka overheard Rex quietly recall memories to Leia in the waiting area behind them, listening to the faint, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor as Kix removed another plate of armor.
Then, rather abruptly, the steadiness disappeared.
She glanced at Bail with a concerned glint in her eyes before punching the intercom. "Kix, what's happening?"
The clone didn't respond.
She tried again. "Kix? Is he okay?"
"His brain waves indicate that he's in a state of distress, but nothing is showing up on our scanners," Kix finally replied, his voice a mix between bewilderment and panic. "Lewis, inject him with a stim."
The gears in the droid's hand rotated a few times before landing on a metal syringe. It pierced Anakin's partially exposed arm, administering the drug into his system. The sporadic beeping was suddenly replaced by a single, high-pitched tone, and Ahsoka dimly noticed Rex usher Leia out of the room as she pushed past Bail to get inside, her chest clenching with anxiety.
Kix gritted his teeth, punching some buttons on a machine. "We're losing him."
Ahsoka's breath stuttered as she looked at Anakin, instantly hit by the waves of distress spewing in the Force around him—a cold clash of life and death beneath his skin. Instantly, she sensed that his soul was still there, fighting and struggling against the death that tried to encompass him.
Bail urgently tugged on her arm. "Ahsoka, please, you can't be in here."
"Let me help," she blurted to Kix. "Please, I—"
He gave a solemn, sympathetic look. "Sir, there's—there's nothing we can do. His heart has already stopped beating."
She shook Bail's hand off of her shoulder. "I can feel his soul fighting," she insisted. "Please. Don't let him go yet."
"Let her help." She turned her head to see Rex in the doorway, his shoulders bowed with worry. "That's an order."
Kix hesitated before letting out a breath, nodding as he stepped to the side. "Go ahead."
Ahsoka gave him an appreciative look before making her way toward the operation table. She nearly felt sick at the sight of Anakin's pale, withered skin, but she took a breath, pushing down any protesting thoughts as she extended her hands.
"I am one with the Force, the Force is with me."
A simple prayer. The only one she knew.
The tension in the room was thick, every second dragging by with an overwhelming sense of fear—but she released her burdens into the Force, her brows furrowed in concentration as she whispered. She pressed on, energy flowing from her fingertips to his unconscious figure, praying until her throat felt raw. As long as his soul was still wrestling, there was still hope.
»»««
Skywalker woke up again, a choked gasp leaving his throat as his eyes frantically scanned the room. He panted, chest heaving, forehead sticky with sweat, and a surge of anxious thoughts hitting him all at once. The tension in his shoulders stiffened when finally he realized where he was.
Padmé's apartment.
He blinked, struggling to untangle his limbs from the expensive linens as he hastily looked over to her side of the bed. Empty. Skywalker puffed out a breath, kicking his legs out to the side of the bed, and shivering when his feet hit the cold ground. He forced his mind to still, reminding himself to take deep breaths. He counted to ten. Then back to zero. Then to ten again.
It did nothing to settle the gross feeling in his chest.
His eyes flickered around the room. It was just as he remembered it, every simple detail the same. He felt a gentle tug that urged him toward the blast door, and he hesitantly stood from the bed.
Skywalker walked the halls that felt too familiar to be artificial, each item he saw bringing him a bittersweet sense of nostalgia that he nearly forgot existed. Once he reached the common area, he allowed himself a moment of stillness as he studied the room.
Suddenly, he heard a faint noise coming from the balcony, and his heart sprang to his throat. He whipped around to meet the intruder, only to see—
"Padmé," he breathed, his heart stilling.
She stood on the open terrace, gracefully gazing off the edge and combing a brush through her hair. His hands started to shake, tears forming in his eyes as his feet brought him toward her. She didn't acknowledge him, continuing to hum an old lullaby.
Something wasn't right.
He lifted his eyes, finally noticing that the usual bustle of Coruscant was completely absent. The sky was empty, leaving nothing but an eerie silence in its place. He slowly looked back over to Padmé.
She was trembling. Her hand had stilled, her grip on the brush tightening until her knuckles were white.
"Padmé?" he asked, gently reaching out to take it away before she hurt herself. Her eyes snapped up to him—charged with panic, wide and haunting. She reached out and clutched onto his shirt desperately.
"Help me," she choked out, her words nearly unintelligible. His own hands trembled as he tenderly cupped her face.
"I—I don't understand."
Her grip tightened. "Help."
Before he could ask anything else, a prayer echoed in his mind. It seemed to bounce off an invisible set of walls, pounding into his brain over and over again until he was forced to step away from Padmé.
"I am one with the Force, the Force is with me."
He held his head in his hands as the voice got louder, trying but failing to ignore it, unable to concentrate on anything else. He screwed his eyes shut as he hunched over, temples hammering painfully each time Ahsoka repeated it.
"I am one with the Force, the Force is with me."
Then, everything went silent.
Skywalker cautiously opened his eyes, inhaling sharply when he was greeted with a thick veil of darkness. The only thing he managed to distinguish were the two figures that stood in front of him. He forced his body to still, watching with bated breath to see what would happen next.
The two ignited their lightsabers—one of the sabers was blue, the other a double-bladed Sith—the dim light brightening the room just enough for him to see a third figure standing in front of them.
His breath hitched.
He faintly heard the high-pitched beeping of a heart rate monitor as his eyelids began to feel heavy again, his legs giving out beneath him. When the world around him faded away, he didn't struggle.
Everything went black.