Gates of Hell

Chapter 20 - Finding Peace

Author's Note: This arc was supposed to be only one chapter. It's not. It ended up being like three, and this is the second. Lol. Anyways, you'll be getting another chapter this month. ;)

~ Amina Gila

Vader's brain whites out entirely, all thoughts and feeling vanishing the moment he feels Anakin's hand on his shoulder. He feels it, real and warm and human and... gentle. And he wants more. It's been – it's been years since he's been in contact with another person. He's grown used to the aching, gnawing loneliness, but he was wholly unprepared for this. He should have expected it though because they have always been very tactile by nature.

He reaches up with his right hand, laying the metal of his prosthetic on Anakin's hand, covering it, pressing it closer. Pressure hurts, it always hurts, but he's too desperate for more to even care.

"What is it?" Anakin asks, brow furrowed, nudging him through their bond, undoubtedly trying to understand Vader's feelings.

"I – I don't..." He doesn't even know what he's trying to say, and he pulls Anakin closer to him with his left arm. "Touch me." It's as much a plea as it is a command.

Anakin studies his face for a moment – it bothers him that his expressions are so visible now after years and years of wearing a mask which kept him hidden – before realization flickers through his blue eyes. He doesn't say anything though as he gently winds his arms around Vader and holds him. "I don't want to hurt you," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to Vader's as best he can, staring into his eyes.

"You won't. You aren't," Vader answers after a pause where he scrambles to recollect his thoughts. All he can think about is how he's being touched by another person, by someone who isn't trying to hurt him, by someone who loves him, no matter how undeserving he is of that love. It doesn't even matter to him that he's technically being touched by himself, another version of himself, anyways. The feeling of skin against his own is... heady, and he doesn't ever want it to stop.

He wraps his arms around Anakin, pulling him closer, as if that's even possible, and silently revels in the feelings coursing through him. "Does it hurt when I touch you?" Anakin queries, not resisting even though Vader's grip is tight enough that it might hurt – he can't make himself let go even if he should. Anakin lightly brushes his organic hand over Vader's back, fingers ghosting around the damaged skin where his spinal prosthetic implants are located, trailing them upwards and touching the back of his head. He's so gentle that Vader could cry.

"It does not matter," Vader answers, knowing that if he lies Anakin will know. "Don't – don't let go." For as vulnerable as he is at the moment, he doesn't have the brain power to care.

"I'm not," Anakin promises. "I'm not."

And he doesn't.

As the minutes tick by, Vader starts to relax slowly, bit by bit, melting entirely into the feeling of human contact. He doesn't want or need anything other than this. He doesn't want to think about what Anakin said earlier, about what he said about how Vader deserves to feel better. It doesn't matter right now. Nothing does but this.

Kix clears his throat sometime later as he approaches. "General," he says, waiting until Vader opens his eyes – when did he close them? – to look at him. "I have the results of your blood tests. You are currently on three drugs, the purpose of which I do not understand. They seem to be doing more harm than good, and I suggest that I wean your body off the drugs and find something more suitable."

"My – Sidious told me that I need them to stay alive," Vader manages to say, the bone-deep ache in his body feeling so much closer to his conscious awareness than usual. He's tired, so very tired, but he can't sleep; he is incapable of true sleep anymore. He wishes he was, because with the gentle way that Anakin is touching him, he thinks that he might be able to sleep.