Denial: "What-if" for The Trial of Darth Vader

Anakin's Prison Cell: One Day Later

(a/n: okay but like saliva isn't that gross, so don't complain about it in the story plez)

(a/n: at the "plez": MESSA SPELLIN IS MUY MUY DA BOMBA!)

(a/n: reply to the less sane side of HelenaUrie: go jump off a bridge you Force-damned idiotic nerfherder)

a/n: okay bye

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It had become apparent by morning that Sergeant Sal has contracted an illness from the planet that hosted the Alliance's newest base. The plague had quickly spread through the Alliance, rendering many, including Sal, bedridden in the medbay.

And leaving the lonely and distressed Anakin with no visitor in his cell.

***

There was a frown on Anakin's hairless forehead. He still could not contact his son through the Force and was aware that Luke had been avoiding the topic all along. Perhaps I am ill, he would think to himself. Luke did not appear to be in any bad condition. Or, perhaps the Alliance had placed a Force-repelling creature somewhere close to his cell; it seemed that Luke couldn't use the Force when he was nearby, either.

Inside the cell, time unknowingly trickled away from the man. Anakin patiently waited for his son to show up, as he always would. He was not sure how long he had been anticipating Luke's arrival, sitting with his hand behind his back, clasping at the fabric of his newly adorned inmate uniform. The texture of the uniform was a little itchy on his sensitive skin.

However, when Luke still did not appear after what seemed like hours, fatigue finally hit Anakin. Anxiety was nagging at him- was his son in danger? Oh, how he wished the Force would return to his aid. Luke must be on an urgent mission, the man thought to himself, in a means of comfort.

Surely, he would pardon an old man like me for taking a nap?

Yes... knowing his ever-loving, overly optimistic and forgiving son, surely Luke would.

Funny how I, quite pessimistic and hatred-fueled at times, fathered such child like this.

Huh. With Luke's maturity, sometimes Anakin would wonder that if he was still his formerly fiery, brazen (in his youthful years, at least), livid self, that Luke would have been his father. It made more sense in reverse. It seemed as if mindless obedience and everlasting depression were the only things that had matured as Anakin aged. (Excluding his physical appearance, of course.) The harsh temper seemed to have stuck around, looming with even less control under his years as a Sith. Though, he had to admit, Luke had softened him into a stuffed Loth-cat doll in his time as a captive.

Exhaustion blurred his vision and gave him a headache. Soon, the aging man let himself be taken by sleep.

***

The Light Side was overwhelming here, leaking into his flesh, skin and bones. His body was soaked in its embrace. It felt so enchanting, to bathe in this Light...

A warm, soothing breeze danced across his discolored face. Where is my oxygen tube? He questioned for a moment, frantic, fumbling around, until he realized that pure, unpolluted air was already gushing into his charred, useless lungs.

He... he could breathe!

He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of the galloping air, grinning as it seeped into his cracked lips, down his parched throat, and tingled his lungs. He breathed slowly. Inhale... exhale... One cycle. Inhale... exhale... two cycles.