Conversations with Dead People
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or anything associated with the Star Wars name. It all belongs to George Lucas and Lucasfilm Limited. He can have them. I only like to play. The title comes from a Buffy: The Vampire Slayer episode. All rights reserved for that too, I'm only borrowing it.
A/N: I guess this is set inter-trilogy. This is rather long for a Shortfic but I didn't feel comfortable letting it stand on its own. This was my very, very first SW fic. I thought I'd brush it up and let it see the light of day. Not my best work, admittedly. But enjoy anyway!
Too long had it been since Vader had seen the reflection of his own face in the mirror. Too long had it been since Vader touched the cold, lifeless skin that was covered with the scars of an internal war and a lifetime of heartache. Too long had it been since Vader took the fresh air into his lungs and expelled it as his own. Too long had it been since Vader felt the good in the galaxy. Too long had it been since Vader had been touched…by anything.
A lonely sigh saw him escape into a seamless slumber. Locked in a secured room with machinery to help him survive, he waited. For tonight he knew the ghosts of his past wrong-doings would haunt him.
-
The air was pure. Touching his face, he discovered that none of his war-wounds remained on his face. It was smooth…must like when he was a young padawan.
Padawan.
He flicked his head sideways and momentarily felt his braid slap gently against his face. No scars. No machinery. Just Anakin.
"A change from your most recent status, wouldn't you say my young padawan?" a voice called from behind him.
A voice. A familiar voice. Turning around swiftly, he reached for his light sabre only to find another planted firmly in his face.
"Reminiscing tonight again, are we young padawan?" said the figure again.
Obi-Wan. His master, just as he remembered him. In his dreams, they were left unravished by the sands of time, left untouched by the purge of humanity he had suffered. And Obi-Wan left no emotional stone unturned. In his dreams, he suffered for his weakness.
"Relax, Anakin. No duelling tonight, I appear to you for another reason. I just want to talk to you. No tricks, I promise you. It's been a long time, hasn't it young padawan?"
Silence.
"Tonight I come to you with a story of a woman, Anakin. Her name was Shmi Skywalker," said his former Master, with a sadistic smirk on his face.
Breathe.
Control your anger.
Or not.
Lashing out with his lightsabre, he pinned his former master to the ground.
"You will not mention that name again. Ever!" he spat.
Closing his eyes and using the Force, Obi-Wan lifted himself out of Anakin's clutches and started again.
"I want to talk to you about a woman named Shmi. Shmi Skywalker," He repeated softly and looked directly into the eyes of his adversary…his apprentice.
Do not let it get to you, Vader. You may be in HIS body but you are not him. This woman means nothing to you. She is dead, to the world and your heart.
Then why does it hurt so badly?
"I told you to SHUT UP, Obi-Wan!" he repeated, more forcefully. Obi-Wan saw the conflict in his eyes.
"Shmi was a beautiful woman."
The scenery suddenly began to shift and change in front of his eyes. The fiery atmosphere of Mustafar began to change; blending quickly so the colours began to mix together.
The smoky air and the red-hot lava gave way to the endless desert plains and the two suns of Tatooine. Tatooine was the world of his childhood. It was the world of his slavery.
It was the world he saw his mother die in.
"What trickery is this, Old Jedi?" he sneered. But secretly his heart began to pound.
"My young apprentice, this is no trick. This is the Force that talks to you, Anakin. This is your dream."
Obi-Wan moved casually to sit on a suspiciously placed chair.
"I told you I wanted to talk to you Anakin. I want to talk to you about your mother."
Vader began to feel his exceptional Sith anger rise. His non-robotic hand gripped his lightsaber, which casually rested in his Jedi robes.
Then, for a brief moment, he felt a chill run down his spine.
Impossible.
"Look, Anakin."
Looking up, Vader gasped.
For the first time since his turn to the Darkside, she appeared to him.
Shmi Skywalker.
There she was. Vader recognised the place – the moisture farm that belonged to the Lars family. And there his mother was, as clear as he had ever seen her.
From a distance he could see her. She was outside their small house.
Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Vader couldn't help but shudder. The scene that lay before him was too strange; too surreal. It weakened him; even in the dream.
"Shmi loved to do work around the farm. It kept her occupied, busy. She loved to be active – it made her feel useful."
Vader continued to watch, mesmerized. Taking a few steps towards her, he felt his body begin to lose its tension. It lost that empty and rigid feeling he had carried for years – the feeling he had grown to loathe but accept.
His eyes were wide, as he approached the homestead. He could now see his mother more clearly and saw the thoughtful look on her face.
Suddenly, Shmi stopped what she was doing and sat down on the ground. Vader was now in close proximity to her.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small holopicture. It was of him – of Anakin. Looking harder, Vader could see it had not been taken while he was on Tatooine.
It was a picture taken during his time at the Jedi Temple as a padawan. He had been about fifteen years old, judging by the picture. He watched on as Shmi began to tenderly stroke the picture. Closing her eyes, she allowed the tears to fall down onto her cheeks.
Crying.
His mother was crying.
"I am so proud of you, Ani."
She then began to sing softly.
Vader turned away, fearing this sight of his mother would tear down the walls he had made for himself. She was singing the lullaby she had sung to him as a child.
"I sent your mother that picture, Anakin. I remember one night, when you were around that age, you had a terrible nightmare. It was of your mother. It was after that night I secretly sent out this photo."
The tears began to fall.
"She was proud of you, my padawan. And she loved you very much. She still does."
Vader looked up at his former Master.
"Why, Obi-Wan. Why now?"
Obi-Wan smiled softly and then began to dissolve into his older self.
"Because, even the Dark Lord of the Sith dreams, Anakin."