Armored Passion | The Mandalorian

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Force healing had always been something that I never enjoyed doing, and that was mostly due to the fact that the task had proven to be just as painful and draining as the training that had brought me down to such a state of needing it. It felt like I had been doing this healing shit day in and day out ever since I had gotten a real grasp on using the force to my advantage. 

I slowly pulled the lower half of my shirt up while letting my other hand hover over the searing burn I had received on my ribcage. A quiet wince slipped past my gritted teeth as the red burn started to heal over. The hand gripping the hem of my shirt immediately dropped down to the mattress of my bed and my fingers squeezed the edge tightly as I fought to keep myself together and conscious. 

The fucking Inquisitors—who I liked to call: Vader's-assholic-force-sensitive-lackeys—had kicked my ass during training today and I was still feeling the painful effects of their beating in my muscles and bones. Maker, I'm just waiting for the fucking day when I'm actually skilled enough to kick all of their asses along with Vader's. Then again, if I were being completely honest with myself, I probably could beat them all—excluding Vader, of course—if I tried hard enough. I just found it hardly fair that all eleven of them usually liked to gang up on me during our training sessions. 

"Just gotta be patient, Mae," I muttered to myself before clenching my jaw as the burnt skin on my ribcage disappeared completely. "Just a few more years of this bullshit and then you can break yourself out of this hell hole."

And just as I finished healing the large burn on my side, the door of my personal quarters slid open, and the Sith Lord that I oh so despised stepped in. I closed my eyes for a few long moments, not wanting to deal with him and the unnecessary bullshit he always seemed to drag along. A small sigh escaped me before I opened my eyes back up, but I made sure to keep them glued to the polished black floor set beneath me, not daring to even look at him and his stupid helmet. 

It wasn't until he sat at the foot of my bed that I actually cared to look up at him. My eyes immediately widened at the sight sitting in front of me and my jaw almost dropped to the ground. I couldn't seem to find the willpower to pull my eyes away from the one and only Darth Vader that looked to be distant and lost as he sat at the foot of my bed, staring at the blank wall set in front of us. 

And when I say staring, I mean I could quite literally see one of his eyes staring at the wall. 

"Master Vader?" I called out in a questioning manner as my brown eyes continued to focus on the one eye that was peeking out of the damaged helmet he was wearing. His golden yellow eye proved to be a prominent contrast to the black mask I had become accustomed to. 

"Have I ever told you about the padawan I had trained during the Clone Wars?" he asked, his voice barely getting modulated by the respirator that helped him breathe. I was surprised that he could even talk, let alone breathe, without his helmet being properly intact. 

"Don't you mean apprentice?" I questioned, knowing that a padawan fell under the training of a Jedi, not a Sith. 

"Snips," he whispered before taking in a heavy, labored breath. His voice was deep and partially modulated, but it was much clearer without all of the... apparatus. 

"Snips?" I repeated, waiting for him to continue. 

"I was a Jedi Knight and a General for the Grand Army of the Republic when she was assigned to be my padawan. I used to call her 'Snips' because she always had something sarcastic and witty to say. She had a snippy attitude. I trained her throughout most of the Clone Wars and watched her grow to be a powerful Jedi and an amazing leader," he explained, his one visible eye maintaining its intense gaze on the blank wall in front of us. I kept my eyes on him, wondering where all of this was coming from.