15.UnSithLike Thinking

Water always seemed as a means of escape for him. Ever since he had left Tattooine and found out that there were places in the Universe where water was abundant, he indulged himself every opportunity he got. It was as if he was constantly parched, having spent his childhood under those twin suns- the sand getting in and drying him out.

Lord Vader lay back in the deep tub immersed in hot water, his eyes closed as only his nose breached the surface. He was trying desperately to not think about anything. So he thought about water. He thought about how soothing it is…

He thought about the first time that he had a real bath. He could remember it so vividly, the sound of the water filling the tub… the scent of the fine soaps… the goosebumps that rioted across his skin as he eased for the first time into glorious warm water… the flaming color red his skin turned, as well as how he was fascinated at how his fingers and toes shriveled up from being submersed so long. So long in fact that Obi-Wan had to actually pull him from the tub.

Obi-Wan. The sound of his master's voice as he hunched over the edge of the tub, physically scrubbing the years of filth and sand from his blond head that sonic showers never seemed to get out. How Obi-Wan had tried so hard to be strong for him in that time immediately after Qui-Gon's death. It was a strange moment for Vader to realize what an intimate, touching, subtle gesture it was for Obi-Wan to help him bathe properly for the first time and manage not to demoralize him or make him feel bad for being so dirty in the process. He knew that it was Qui-Gon's dying wish for Obi-Wan to take Anakin as his padawan. He knew that Obi-Wan had considered him at the time of their meeting to be yet another pitiful lifeform. He knew that Obi-Wan had been hurt. But he also knew that Obi-Wan would never let down Qui-Gon. And he didn't.

For years… too many years, he had tortured himself with the fact that he was nothing more than a promise to Obi-Wan's dead master- a promise that he wished he hadn't made. But as he sat in the tub, eyes closed, thinking about his one time master, he wondered why he never took note of the small things. He should have… that was the way his master was. It was always the small things.

He thought about Qui-Gon's funeral on Naboo. The tears that flowed freely down his cheeks for the man that had simply believed in him no questions asked. He hurt so much when Qui-Gon died, he had no idea what would happen to him next, he assumed he would be returned to Tattooine to his mother. He thought about how young Obi-Wan had looked as he stood there watching the victory celebration pass. He thought about how he was actually scared of Obi-Wan… scared that he would never be as good as him, he would never be able to defeat a Sith lord, he would never be as calm and collected, he would never be as good of a padawan as he had been.

He remembered gazing up at Obi-Wan as the tears poured from his own cheek, to see a single tear break loose from the watery depths of his eyes and fall slowly down his own cheek. He remembered feeling more pain for that single tear that fell from Obi-Wan's eyes than the buckets that poured out of his own eyes. It was at that point that he had realized that becoming a Jedi was to truly forfeit ones self in all ways to serve the greater good. Now, the notion crossed his mind that he should have taken more from that day. The moment that Obi-Wan had turned to him, his lone tear vanishing as it fell to his robes, and looked at him- really looked at him with those stormy gray/green/blue eyes full of sorrow, then gently reached down and took his hand gently in his own… He should have known then that Obi-Wan harbored no ill will towards him… that Obi-Wan would do his best for him.

Vader took a deep breath and completely submerged himself beneath the water. He opened his eyes once submerged and took note of the way the view to the surface was twisted by the ripples on the top. He stayed under until his lungs burned for air, and then surfaced at the last second with a gasp. He clenched his eyes shut as the breath of life worked its way back into his lungs.

He didn't want to be thinking… but he couldn't stop. Any one else would have been boggled by the rapid rate at which thoughts ran through his head. He felt like he had finally discovered that he had been viewing his whole life as if he were under water. Was nothing the way he actually thought it to be? He wondered if he contemplated his entire life the way he had his first bath, if he would ultimately understand everything… but more so, would he see all of his failures and everything else he misperceived?

He felt as if he were in utter turmoil. He felt guilt, shame, self-hatred and sorrow, emotions that he considered weak. Emotions that he considered to be utterly useless. But as Darth Vader sat there, letting the emotions run through him, he wondered why. Why do I feel this way? Or do I feel this way? Sith's do not feel these things. The confusion seemed to hang around him as if he were in a dense fog. He almost felt as if he had learned something, having these revelations, but WHY? It was painful. And in the end, he could only feel one thing. Regret.

Or maybe it was two things. Regret and… he missed Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Pulling the plug from the bottom of the tub, he sat there stoic, watching the water rush furiously down the drain like a mini tornado. He wished he could be washed away with it. He wished the sadness that was building in him would was away like dirt did, down the drain.

Vader hauled himself from the tub and dried off slowly. He wrapped the towel around his waist and with his flesh hand, wiped the fog from the mirror. His eyes roamed over his humidity-blurred image. 'It's like being under water,' he thought absently. Even though he couldn't see himself clearly, he could still see very clearly every mark and scar that marred his body. They had always served as reminders to him- reminders of things from before that he didn't want to remember. Before, they were painful reminders of how the Jedi had betrayed him and ruined his life. Now, he couldn't take his eyes off of them.

On his left shoulder, was a tiny crescent shaped scar he had gotten on Tattooine from tripping over droid parts strewn across his room only days before he had met Qui-Gon. He remembered how his mother had taken care of it very gently- only after sternly telling him that was what he got for having a filthy room- she didn't want him to scar. On his right knee was a thin white line- the only remnant of a hard fall he had taken outside in the Temple Gardens. He was 13, and was trying to impress his master by flipping over his head during lightsaber training. He had been humiliated and embarrassed when he fell, not just ripping his leggings and breaking his little finger, but smashing his right kneecap to pieces. All he had felt at the time was shame, anger, self-pity… but as his eyes lingered on that thin white line in the mirror, he remembered how Obi-Wan had taken care of him- rushed him to the healers after scooping him up in his arms, cleaning and bandaging the wound after the healers were done, and most of all, not lectured him for showing off, but instead showing him how to properly pull off the move once he was healed. His eyes traveled next to the most visible scar, the one that he often felt took away some of his humanity.

Vader flexed his arm and looked to where metal met flesh. Since the fall of the republic, he had it battered into his brain that the reason he lost his arm was Obi-Wan's fault. Since the day he lost his arm he felt it was Obi-Wan's fault. If Obi-Wan had trusted him, if Obi-Wan had trained him better, if Obi-Wan… he had a million excuses. As his real hand ran over the connection of man and machine, he relived the moment in his head. 'Yeah, it was Obi-Wan's fault,' he thought sullenly, 'Obi-Wan's fault that I loved him so much that I wanted to save him. No… that's not his fault. He did his job. He taught me to release my emotions to the force, to not form attachments… it was my fault for not listening to him. It was my fault for thinking I was ready to face Dooku alone. It was my… fault…'

And then there was a deep, quiet lull in his head. He just couldn't think any longer.

He left the fresher and prepared for bed. The quiet of the huge house hung heavy in the air. He felt alone.

Lord Vader crawled between the cool crisp sheets and closed his eyes. He was exhausted. He was exhausted of his confusion. He was feeling things, actually feeling things that he shouldn't be. Things that wouldn't register with a true Sith. And what did that mean? It's not like he could change anything, its not like he could go back…

For the first time, Sith Lord Darth Vader felt pure sorrow for the events that had put him in his current position. At the same time, he could feel the darkness swirling around him, looking for cracks and crevices to seep into, and he was angry about how weak he was being. It was as if he had somehow entered an alternate reality that was showing him all of the things he had missed, all of the things he was mistaken about. But why? It was futile!

The tremors of something, he didn't know what, were growing within him. Something was on the verge of revealing itself, and it felt so big. It was overwhelming.

He was so over stimulated and fatigued that he instantly pushed off the thought of meditating and communing with the force when the thought crossed his mind. He couldn't handle any more revelations tonight, if that was what he was having… or perhaps it was simply his stress and exhaustion getting to him.

His last thought before he drifted to sleep was of Aurren Farr. He felt her presence coming up the stairs of the villa towards her rooms, then entering them. 'I wonder if she's happy…'

In her quarters, Aurren wandered around, noticing the way the rooms were decorated, picking up things here and there to admire them. She had spent the past few hours roaming the estate, and had actually gotten lost once! As a person who often designed intricate floor plans, she never before had failed to loose her way in a building, not once. Wandering through this villa, though, kept her so thoroughly preoccupied with the beauty of the place that she simply forgot where she had been and couldn't find her way back. Thankfully enough, a protocol droid had wandered across her path and led her back to the kitchen. She was worried that she might have to contact Lord Vader on his comm link to come find her. She laughed at the thought of him having to find her in this house.

She had picked at the food that was laid out in the kitchen when they arrived, and then set out to explore the house. It had served to distract her from all that had happened that day, but now that she was in her own blissfully cool, quiet rooms, it all seemed to flood back into her head.

She changed quickly for bed and climbed in. She lay on her back and stretched her arms and legs out as far as they would go on either side of her, reaching for the edges of the lavish, excessively big bed. Then, she curled on her side, and gazed out the windows to the starry night sky.

'I must have as many things racing through my head as stars in the sky,' she thought, as she searched out the constellation called "Ariella" which stars connected to depict the ancient Alderiaan female goddess of love's bow and arrow. When she was little, her father would point it out to her through her window at night and tell her that Ariella would protect her because her mother and he had loved her so much.

She focused on clearing everything from her mind. She needed her sleep tonight. She needed to be ready the next morning, bright and early. Without fail.

Thanks everyone for all the reviews! I got a wee bit sidetracked with all of the memorial day weekend stuff, but Im back on track now. so, whaddya think?