Chapter 7 – Contacting the Master

DISCLAIMER: We do not own Star Wars or any of the characters in it, though we wish we did. xD

WARNING: TORTURE!

Author's Note: Sidious is a horrible person. Get used to it.

~ Amina Gila

Anakin steps into the hold to see Obi-Wan and Ahsoka sitting silently on the floor. Neither of them looks particularly happy to be there, which is to be expected. He can still sense feelings of betrayal from both of them. He swallows, throat dry. He has no idea what to say to them. When he was wearing a mask, it was easy, but now… everything has just become so much harder. He's afraid they'll reject him without even wondering why he did what he did. He's used to it, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

"Are you alright?" he asks finally, mentally kicking himself the second the words leave his mouth. Of course, they're not alright.

"I've been better," Obi-Wan replies, looking up at him. Ahsoka's jaw clenches, but she doesn't move, clearly refusing to meet his gaze. The tension in the room is almost palpable.

Sighing, Anakin reaches out with the Force, scanning them for any injuries. Obi-Wan is more or less alright. When he gets to Ahsoka, he feels what he'd noticed before. During the battle, a blaster bolt skimmed across her upper right arm, burning it. He debates putting a bacta patch on it, before deciding to go ahead. After all, he really needs a distraction before they exit hyperspace above Tatooine. He has to contact his master before beginning the final jump to Serenno, and he's admittedly terrified.

He walks across the hold, shuffling through a cabinet before pulling out a first aid kit and removing a bacta patch. "You were injured," he says bluntly looking at Ahsoka. She shifts, finally glancing up at him, expression guarded. She doesn't speak, but he doesn't expect her to reply anyway. He hesitates for a moment before walking over and crouching down next to her.

This earns a reaction. "Don't touch me," she hisses, glaring at him and scooting over as best she can with her wrists cuffed.

"You're injured," he repeats slowly, "And I'm not going to let it go untreated."

"What if I don't want you to treat it?" she snaps, looking like she wants to cross her arms but can't.

He rolls his eyes. "Must you be so dramatic, Snips?"

"Don't call me that!" she yells, suddenly furious again. If she weren't cuffed, she probably would have hit him. As it is, she looks about one inch from doing it anyways. He clenches his jaw, reigning in his temper and refusing the urge to pull in the Dark Side. If his eyes turn yellow, that will only make this that much harder.

"Ahsoka, let him treat it," Obi-Wan tells her quietly.

"Why?" she demands.

"He's trying to help you," her master offers, frowning slightly.

"Why are we even debating this?" mutters Anakin, reaching out and grabbing onto her arm. She tries to jerk away but fails. He examines the wound, noting that it's not very deep, so a simple bacta patch will be enough. Picking it up, he quickly applies it over the wound before rising and moving away from them. "See? It wasn't that bad?"

Ahsoka scowls at him before glaring down at the floor once more. He pretends her expression doesn't send a stab of pain through his heart and silently curses his master. It's all his fault he met her as an enemy rather than a friend. If he'd been a Jedi – and since it's the Council's fault he's not, he curses them also – he might have become her master. How ironic is the twist of fate.

He goes to the 'fresher to clean himself up from the battle. He doesn't even want to, but it gives him something to do. If he doesn't do something until they exit hyperspace, he's going to go insane. He takes his time, and when he finally steps out, he notices that Obi-Wan and Ahsoka immediately fall silent. He pretends not to notice, instead heading towards the cockpit to check on the ship, where he remains, lost in thought.

For ten years, he has, for all intents and purposes, been a slave to the Sith, and he hates it. He loathes the life he's being forced to lead, playing a double role in front of Padme, rarely ever seeing his mother. He squeezes his eyes closed, resting his head against the control panel. Why? Why him of all the Force-sensitives out there in the galaxy? Is his power really so special? He knows he has enormous skill and potential, but he doesn't know why he has to be the one forced into slavery by the Sith, though it's not a fate he wishes on anybody.

He loathes the Jedi with every fiber of his being – well, maybe all of them except Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka. If they hadn't been so harsh, he wouldn't be in this situation. They have signed their own death warrant because he has little desire to help them. If his master will leave him alone, he'll be perfectly happy to watch them all be slaughtered. Well… that isn't strictly true. He wouldn't be pleased, but he wouldn't lose any sleep over it either.

Anakin lets out a shaky breath. He'll have to call his master after they exit hyperspace, and he's terrified, but then again, he always is. If he does even the slightest thing wrong, he'll be tortured, and he knows that there is much he could be at fault for this time. His master despises his ability to care deeply for people, and Anakin knows the only reason its allowed is because it makes controlling him easier. That's another thing he's powerless to change, and he wonders why he even has all this power inside of him if there's nothing he can do with it except destroy.

He's pulled from his musings when the alarm goes off, signaling their arrival. Sighing, he programs the hyperdrive again before rising reluctantly and heading to the hold. The holocommunicator he needs to use is there, which means the Jedi will see it all. It bothers him immensely, far more than it should perhaps, but he doesn't want them to pity him when they discover the truth.

When he enters the hold, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka look up at him. "Sit on that bench," he tells them, motioning to a bench on the side, "And don't talk."

"Why? What's happening?" asks Obi-Wan as he stands up, moving to sit down on the bench, Ahsoka following him silently.

"I am contacting my master," he answers brusquely, turning towards the holocommunicator he uses and making the call. He lowers himself onto one knee submissively and bows his head, while he waits. If he's careful, maybe he won't be punished too harshly.

"Lord Vader," Sidious' dark voice rasps through the room as the connection is established. His hooded figure appears, glaring down on Anakin. "It is good to hear from you. I have received a full report of the Battle of Geonosis, and I must say, I am disappointed."

Anakin swallows hard, the calmness of the Sith's words unnerving him. "Apologies, Master," he replies obediently.

"I am very disappointed with you, my apprentice," hisses the Sith Lord. "The Sith do not tolerate failure." He spits out the last word like it's a curse.

"Yes, Master. I know," mumbles Anakin, wincing.

"What possessed you to attack the Jedi?" demands Sidious. "You know it is not yet time for us to reveal our hand." Anakin knows that if he cannot give a good enough reason – which is highly unlikely – the punishment will be swift and brutal.

"The man I attacked is not a true Jedi," Anakin ventures cautiously, careful to keep his tone placating to avoid sounding defensive. "He killed an unarmed man who has a young son."

"Your attachment to those bounty hunters is pathetic, Lord Vader," snarls Sidious. Anakin can feel him probing his mental shields which he'd reinforced before the call began, his master's rage mounting by the moment. And really, what can he say to that?

"Yes, Master," he finally says, hoping it's the right response. He can only tell sometimes, and right now, his fear is clouding his ability to make decisions.

There is a moment of silence, and Anakin's heartrate spikes. He can almost feel the gears turning in Sidious' mind. "Did you capture the Jedi as I instructed?"

"Yes, Master," he answers.

"And who told you to capture the Padawan?" queries Sidious, his voice deadly calm. Shivers run down Anakin's spine. He prefers when his master shows his anger. Whenever he acts calm when he should be angry, the punishment is always worse. So much worse. He begins bracing himself for what he knows will be coming and hopes it will end quickly.

"Lord Tyrannus did, Master," he replies, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor.

"I don't want her," Sidious decides with finality. "Kill her and perhaps I will forgive your mistakes." Anakin freezes, blood running cold. The very thought of killing Ahsoka makes him nauseous. He can't do it, but he can't pretend to do it either. His master will know the truth. He always knows the truth.

"I am waiting," hisses Sidious, glowering at him. "Don't tell me you are willing to face punishment to protect that pathetic little child."

"I – Master, she can be useful," he protests. "I can sense –"

"I didn't ask for excuses!" his master roars. "Very well. You have made your choice." The temperature in the room seems to plummet as the Dark Side coils around Anakin after Sidious raises his hand.

Anakin flinches, inching back. "Master –" He never gets the chance to finish his plea as lightning engulfs his body, sending him writhing to the floor. He clenches his jaw, refusing to give Sidious the pleasure of making him scream. That has already happened far too many times for his liking. It lets up seconds later, and he shakily pulls himself up, refusing to look at Obi-Wan or Ahsoka and see the horror on their faces that he can feel in the Force.

"I think you are forgetting that Sith do not protect, my apprentice," Sidious muses. "They destroy. Attachments are weaknesses we cannot afford. Yours were useful to me, but now, they are becoming a nuisance. Who is to go first? Your mother or the Senator?"

For a moment, Anakin forgets how to move. "Master, please," he begs shamelessly. "Don't hurt them. I will – I will do anything you want, but please spare them all." He hates that his voice is shaking at the end, but it's not something he can control. Not with everything at stake.

"So quick to sacrifice yourself for others," snarls Sidious lowly. "I think it is high time you learn what it means to be a Sith Lord. You have passed the trials and earned the title, but you are still lacking." He pauses and seems to be studying Anakin. "It may not be now, but the time will come when you will learn."

He raises his hand again, and Anakin barely has time to brace himself before he's thrown backwards across the hold from the force of the lightning ripping through his body. A quiet gasp escapes him, and he clenches his jaw, willing himself not to cry out as he's ravaged by the electricity. Even time has not made this form of agony easier to bear as every nerve in his body is electrified. It doesn't last long, but the expression on his master's face promises it will come again, and then, it will be worse.

He can't bring himself to move, the pain and aftershocks still clinging to him. His breathing is ragged, and his limbs are shaking too much to support him. Sidious doesn't care. Of course, he doesn't care. "Get up," snaps the Sith Lord coldly. "On your knees. Kneel before your master."

He knows that tone. The last time he'd disobeyed – it had been years ago – his mother has been tortured. Gritting his teeth, he draws in the Dark Side, eyes bleeding yellow as his rage mounts, using the boost of power to drag himself to his knees before the hologram. "Your hatred makes you strong, Lord Vader," Sidious cackles, pausing for a moment. "Your hatred, anger, and fear," he adds, ignoring Anakin's pain and the murderous look in his eyes.

Anakin growls quietly, but simply dips his head in a nod. He's not so stupid as to say something reckless and worsen the situation. Years of being beaten into submission have taught him well. He's entertained the thought of trying to kill Sidious, but he knows better than to take the risk without others to back him. Alone, he will die, and so will everyone he cares for.

The hatred pulsing through him is overpowering. He hates everyone around him except his mother and Padme. Sidious for making him a slave. Tyrannus for training him to be a killer. Himself for killing. The Jedi for leaving him in the grasp of Sidious. The Hutts for buying him and bringing him to Tatooine to be discovered by Qui-Gon. Everyone but his mother and Padme. They're the only source of light in his dark life.

A sliver of light enters his heart when he thinks about them. Maybe he'll be able to escape Sidious' grasp somewhere, so he can marry Padme freely and move somewhere safe with her and his mother. And maybe… just maybe Dooku, Asajj, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka will be with him. He pushes back the thought as soon as it enters his mind lest Sidious sense it, but it gives him a measure of calm. He cannot undo what he has already done, and the blood will always stain his hands, but perhaps, he can build himself a better future.

"You will not fail me again, Lord Vader," whispers Sidious, his voice dark and deadly. "I have such confidence in your abilities." You will not let me down. Those words don't need to be said. They're implied well enough. Anakin flinches back, body going rigid, though his doesn't let himself react to the taunt.

"I – I understand, Master," he finally grits out, knowing Sidious is expecting a verbal acknowledgement. The Sith simply chuckles, raising his hand again, and Anakin braces himself. He knows this will be the harshest punishment he's received in a while. The Force sings of danger as the Dark Side tightens around his neck, an unexpected punishment. It doesn't entirely cut off his breathing, but the chokehold is tight enough to make it much harder.

A surge of lightning engulfs his body, this time fueled by Sidious' anger. Anakin collapses to the ground, writhing from the agony. A muffled scream escapes him – possibly more, he's not even sure – before Sidious ends the attack and disconnects the call.

Anakin rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, his eyes blue again. His heart is pounding so hard, he's mildly surprised it didn't stop altogether. That happened once or twice before, but he shies away from the memory. He pants for breath, air seemingly unable to enter his lungs properly. After a few moments, he starts uttering all the Huttese curses that he knows, cursing his horrible predicament and Sidious for torturing him in this manner.

Finally, he drags himself to his feet, shaking with barely contained rage. He stalks into the next room, slamming the door behind him after using the Force to flip the lever on the control panel in the cockpit to make the jump to hyperspace. The walls are resistant to the Force, a modification which had been made after Anakin nearly killed everyone on the ship by losing his temper after Sidious punished him for something several years ago. He staggers to the middle of the room, legs buckling from under him. He can't even walk straight right now, and it infuriates him.

He lets out a scream of pure rage, letting the Dark Side lash out crushing the pile of destroyed training droids in the corner. The feeling of destroying something is incredibly satisfying. It only takes a few minutes to let the anger out of him, leaving behind a feeling of hopelessness. Is this, then, to be his fate? The Sith'ari and Chosen One, fighting at the whims of a deranged Sith Lord?

He reaches for his lightsaber with his right hand, scowling when it refuses to cooperate. Just another thing he'll have to fix afterwards. Clearly the lightning was extreme for it to destroy the shielding he'd used on his mechanical hand. Sighing, Anakin unclips his lightsaber with his left hand igniting the red blade. He stares at it, wondering how it might feel if he stabbed himself with it. Would it hurt worse than being electrocuted? He doesn't know, but a dark part of him wouldn't mind finding out.

He nudges up the sleeve on his right arm until he sees the place flesh meets metal. He slowly lowers the blade, holding it right above his skin of his forearm and feeling the heat. He won't kill himself. He can't do it, not when he has his mother and Padme to think about. He's the only one standing between them and certain death. He lowers the blade a fraction more, jerking it away and dropping it on the floor when it singes his skin.

Tears flood his eyes, and he lets them fall, burying his face in his hands. He wants out of this life. He has for years, but there's no way. There's no hope for him to escape, so here he remains, trapped as a slave. And maybe his mother is right that things will change someday, but that day is far off, and he may never be alive to see it.

He stays there until his emotions are under control before he stands up, still somewhat shaky, and turns towards the door, calling his lightsaber to his hand and clipping it in place as he opens the door. He probably looks like a mess, but he can't find it in himself to care. First, he needs to fix his hand, something which could take a lot of work. Sighing, he runs his left hand through his hair, heading to where he keeps tools and spare parts. The Force knows his fixed his hand more times than he cares to count.

He can feel Obi-Wan and Ahsoka's eyes boring into him, but he's not interested in talking. It's the last thing on his mind right now. If they want to talk, they'll have to start a conversation while he tries to ignore them. Pulling out a toolkit, he crouches down on the floor and pulls off his glove, revealing the mechanics beneath. A cursory examination reveals that the wires' transmitting signals were shorted out. Typical.

He's tried to rectify that particular occurrence for years with little success. Now, he'll have to completely take apart his hand to remove and replace the wiring which is incredibly frustrating. It's always easier with help, and he has to do it now, because he can't land the shuttle with only one hand. Grumbling under his breath, he picks up a tool and pulls off the metal shielding, revealing the wires beneath.

Inside, the damage looks far worse, and he wonders if he'll actually need to replace all the wires. He doubts he has a spare arm laying around on this particular ship, so he'll have to make do – something which will be hard. Maybe he can simply patch it together to get the signal working until they reach Serenno when he can find a better solution. He might be a master mechanic, but nothing he's tried has prevented his arm from being destroyed by Sidious.

"Who is he?" Obi-Wan's voice breaks through his thoughts, and his head snaps towards the Jedi.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he mutters sarcastically.

"I thought you might want to talk about it," Obi-Wan replies after a moment's hesitation.

"That's the problem with you Jedi," he scoffs, turning his attention back to stripping the wires from his arm. He senses more than sees Ahsoka bristle at his tone, but he doesn't really care. "You turn people's lives upside down with no regard for who you're hurting."

"I don't understand," Obi-Wan answers, and he really doesn't. His tone betrays his confusion.

"You gave me to the Sith," he explains, "And then you act like you care."

"Of course, I care!" Obi-Wan retorts, narrowing his eyes. "Why wouldn't I? Nothing that happened to you is my doing. I did everything I could, but the Council didn't listen to me."

"Point," Anakin waves it off. "You're still part of the Jedi, and even you didn't understand the implications of what you'd done."

"I didn't do anything," Obi-Wan defends himself.

Anakin gives him a cold smile, knowing that he's being unnecessarily cruel, but he can't help it right now. "Don't you see?" he queries, tone eerily calm. "You didn't know what you'd done, but you're a Jedi too. You should have been able to see past the veil of the Dark Side, but you couldn't. And that failing is why I've been languishing in Sidious' hands for a decade."

When Obi-Wan blanches, Anakin knows he finally understands. "Oh, Force," whispers the Jedi. "It's Palpatine. The Chancellor is a Sith Lord."

"Only now do you understand," Anakin murmurs, glancing at Obi-Wan's horror filled expression before refocusing on his hand. "What you have done to the galaxy." His words hang in the air for a long time.