Undone
Chapter 2
–
Regrets collect like old friends
Here to relive your darkest moments
I can see no way, I can see no way
And all of the ghouls come out to play
Every demon wants his pound of flesh
But I like to keep some things to myself
I like to keep my issues drawn
It's always darkest before the dawn
–
Vader entered his chamber, sitting on his adjustable chair. The droids began to piece apart his suit, taking his mechanical legs and arms off, along with his breathing device, mask and helmet.
Now a feeble body, he rested back as the chair reclined for him to lie flat, hoping to get some shut eye without the nightmares that have haunted him for over 10 years. 10 years since that fateful night. A night he couldn't forget – he had the emotional and physical scars to remind him everyday.
He used to look back on that night and be overcome with regret and guilt – but those feelings became too burdensome after a while. Now, he was so immersed in the dark side that he was rather disconnected from Anakin's emotions. He remembered what Anakin went through but it didn't resonate the way it once did. Now he often just felt angry at Anakin's failures, and continued to punish him for it by refusing to relate to him, connect to him, or let him breathe, pushing him further and further to the back of his mind. He never wanted to be him again. And looking back now, a decade later, he was so far from the man he used to be.
–
Vader's eyes flew open in an instant once the back of the chair rose, lifting him up. He waited for the droids to attach his limbs but nothing seemed to be operating. Glancing down, his eyes widened at the sight of himself. He lifted his left arm as though he never lost it, studying his calloused fingers, and then glancing at the other mechanical hand that replaced the one he lost to Count Dooku.
He reached up to place his hands on his face – he couldn't feel any scars, apart from the one across his right eye – he felt like himself again.
He then wiggled his toes, looking down at his legs. Placing his hands on either side of himself to sit better, straightening his back, he exhaled heavily, feeling a full breath emerge from his chest with no difficulty. His eyes curious, quizzical yet pleasantly surprised.
Resting back on the chair, he brushed his fringe away from his eyes – only to realize his hair returned. If that wasn't enough to riddle him with confusion, he then spotted a vision before him.
Padme.
She stood there, sporting a white satin gown that hugged her curves, the hem of her dress effortlessly flowing like ocean waves.
She slowly headed towards him. He blinked a couple of times, trying to work it out – his imagination hasn't been this vivid in a while.
But the closer she got, the more real it felt. A rush of warmth radiated off of her and onto him as she crawled onto his lap, lifting up her dress to rest on her thighs.
His hand coasted up her silky thigh. He could feel the softness of her skin at the tip of his fingers like it was only yesterday that he touched her.
He was just about to utter her name but she placed a finger over his mouth. Leaning in, her lips met his and both of them breathed out deeply, savoring the taste of one another, engulfed in the pleasure that only they shared.
