(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
*************************************************************
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.
He hadn't felt like this for more than two decades.
Oh, the air, so clean... Utterly opposite of the mustiness, the putridness of the air outside this dreamworld. Outside were the horrors, the misery...
Infectious joy spread across his face, lighting up the dents and crevices, sending his dry lips to rupture again. He lapped the blood that leisurely oozed out from the wound, quickly stopping its bleeding with his saliva. The pain on his lips lightly stung, and numbness struck soon, but not from the meager wound, but that the muscles in his cheeks were not accustomed to stretching so much.
Weightless grey mist, its color almost matching his pallor, swarmed around his broken body, and urged him to tread forward in a benign fashion.
I will move, I will move... after another breath, yes...
"Father... come to us..."
W-was that Luke? And... and his dear Leia? He strode towards the direction of the voice, the grey mist dispersing and dissipating around him. Dark shadows drifted around, but the shadows did not sneak up and haunt the lone man with any malevolent intentions. Instead, they were harmless, softly guiding his way towards the two figures in the distance.
Anakin swore he could hear... he could hear it, loud and clear!... laughter. Delighted, gleeful laughter, coming from beautiful, priceless mouths and lungs. The figures were clothed in white, basking in the gleaming light that beamed down from somewhere above.
He closed his eyes to shield them from that blinding light, though he yearned to stare at it, to be subdued by it, to be absorbed into the light's very being. Beneath his knees, the grey mist rolled for a few more minutes before quietly tumbling away, kissing his feet, whispering angelic goodbyes into his ears.
I must be dreaming.
"Is... is that a sun?" The old man croaked, his voice weak but thick with emotion, filled with ecstasy. Tears threatened to spill out like waterfalls from his burning eyes. He could feel the colors; they were so beautiful, a pallet of pinks and blues and all the gorgeous hues painted in the clouds and skies. And the blazing star, the sun, it cast its celestial, golden rays of absolute warmth onto his pallid face. It felt so good- that divine heat that unashamedly crept across his marred skin, conquering every cell, every molecule.
And... and a sudden, unexpected touch... a comforting, the most comforting wrap around his broken torso...
His touch...
His mellow, affectionate, adoring, loving touch...
His voice was more holy, more sacred, than that of an angel.
"There's perpetual sunlight here, Father."
Anakin returned the embrace, his breath rattling in a suffocating love, his limbs near collapse. Reluctantly - he relished his son's touch too much - he opened his eyes, daring to look at what he beheld, and...
Oh... absolutely beautiful...
The angels on the moons of Iego could not compare to the sight before his eyes.
Brilliant blue eyes and marvelous brown eyes stared up into the faded old orbs of their father. Leia, his beloved daughter, was standing behind Luke; Leia, the beautiful, bold and brave, unflinching at the horrid sight of the pallid, aging man.
Luke had dug his face into Anakin's chest, nuzzling his father like an infant. Anakin affectionately reached down to touch Luke's hair.
It was mesmerizing- the return of his sense of touch. Metal fingers skimmed along the infinitely soft fabric of Luke's white gown, stroked his silky blonde hair, cradled the smooth skin on his son's blushing cheeks.
Anakin closed his eyes once more, focusing on touching wherever his son allowed him to, feeling the never-ending amount of different textures that he had not felt in what seemed like a lifetime. He did not stop until there was a warm hand resting on his metal ones.
It felt like Luke, but Anakin knew it was not his son. He gradually opened his eyes, his mind still in the trance of his newly regained touch, to a young and otherworldly Leia who was beaming at her biological father, her face full of love.
Why? Asked Anakin, to himself. I... I don't deserve this... I don't deserve her smile...
"Hello, Leia." Anakin cautiously murmured, greeting his daughter but simultaneously careful not to overstep his tight boundaries.
Leia's smile grew wider, though she remained silent, as if asking for him to speak a little more. Anakin was completely baffled at her serene reaction. Meanwhile, Luke was completely swallowed into Anakin's chest, his head buried there, encased by warmth.
"I've... I've missed you two."
Leia reached up and cupped a slender hand around her father's disfigured left cheek. Tears suddenly brimmed Anakin's eyes, and those eyes widened, knowing that he must be dreaming, that Leia would not persist with her affection.
The hand slid off his face. This is it, he thought to himself. Yet Leia playfully shoved Luke out from Anakin's grasp (making her brother whine a little- something Anakin thought he would never see) then tightly wrapped her arms around his torso, burying her head into his chest much like how Luke did.
"I love you, Father. I'll always love you, no matter what."
Anakin gasped, and hesitantly gave a light tap on her shoulder. This... this is a dream... I'm dreaming...
He looked down, wishing so hard that he could pat her head, caress her cheeks. His voice was choked when he asked: "Have you... have you forgiven me, my dear?"
Leia nodded. "Of course." Her voice sounded like that of a saint.
There was a watery smile on Anakin's face. "May I hug you in return?" The man held his breath, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
There was a shy chuckle before she gave permission and nuzzled her face further into her father's chest. "'Course," came her muffled voice. "You don't have to be so polite, Father." Anakin's arms collapsed around her lithe waist, squeezing her tight. "...Love you," he mumbled, his voice strained as he was afraid she would not hear. After a few moments, it seemed as if Like had joined their precious moment, placing his cheek snugly in a gap that the father and daughter had left for him.
Anakin looked down, unfocused sight gazing into his daughter's eyes. "Why... Why have you forgiven me?" He inquired, his voice soft, not wanting to provoke her in their delicate peace.
There was another chuckle emitting from Leia, and her glittering brown eyes crinkled as a smile graced her face. Anakin could not help but awkwardly give his own grotesque smile, bashfully displaying his uneven, mostly rotten teeth. His scars painfully stretched, faded eyes staring lovingly.
Leia did not cringe. Reaching up to cup his hairless face again, she murmured, "I am one with the Force now, Father. I am aware of all the tragedy that has occurred in your life." She ran her palm along Anakin's scalp, soothing the frail man.
Anakin paused for a moment, smiling in absolute adoration, before realizing her words.
One with the Force?
Oh, no... Are they... Are they...?
Gone?
Memories crept back- the blue hue of the holovideo, glowing in the dark room, casting its stray lights of sadness onto the walls.
The coffins, lowering into the ground...
That's why he could not feel his precious Luke in the Force.
He closed his eyes, trying to hold back the grief. Each breath felt so heavy, like a burden. Overwhelmed with the loss, he felt a pang of pain inside his chest, as if monstrous claws were trying to drag him down, sink him under murky water...
A hand gently laid itself on his hunched shoulders, trying to tell him it's alright.
"I'm right here, Father. Don't worry, I'm always with you. We're always with you."
Anakin's voice cracked. "Luke?" He called out, still not daring to open his stinging eyes.
Luke's hands prodded at his father's ear stubs. "Can you feel me?"
Anakin nodded, cherishing his son's kind touch.
"See? I'm beside you, and I'm doing alright."
Anakin's chest heaved. "Son... Tell... Tell me the truth..."
Luke leaned onto his father, running a hand over his bent back, hushing the man as if he were an infant. "I perished on Korriban," he whispered. "Sergeant Sal has been acting as a decoy to comfort you. Your grieving mind simply assumed the sergeant as me..." the young man let out a chuckle. "If I ever meet the man, I really should give him my gratitude."
Anakin remained silent for seemingly hours before mouthing a hushed "oh". He lowered his head in grief, waves of memories washing in and out.
There was a firm squeeze on his shoulder. "Do not wallow in your heartache, Father. Let us spend what little time we have in laughter."
Anakin raised his head, his brows arching. Blinking away tears, a trembling smile slowly broke across his face.
***
"Have... have I told you how sweet your voices are? I... I... I love... I love listening to your voices."
"Your voice is wonderful too, Father."
He rested on the seemingly invisible ground, clouds rising and expanding as his twin children sat in his lap. There was a comfortable silence for a while, but when it appeared, Anakin immediately noticed the frown on his daughter's face.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He asked, his voice teeming with concern.
Leia bowed her head. "I'm... I'm sorry that I treated you so terribly," she whimpered like a small child.
Anakin laughed, though with his lungs the laughter could not last long. With a wide grin on his face, metal fingers reached up to tickle her nose. She squirmed and squealed at the metal contacting her skin and rapidly running back and forth.
He spoke once she was calmed down.
"Darling, I suppose it appears that after a few encounters, I simply disregarded your former attitude. Your reactions were understandable; it is my fault for hurting you in the first place, my precious one. You're my daughter, and ever since I found out about your existence, I have vowed to love you. How can I be mad when I broke my own promise? There is no need for apology."
Leia nodded, smiling in gratitude.
***
She went on her tippy-toes, her arms wrapped around his neck as she tried to kiss her father's disfigured cheeks. In a swift motion, he bent down and lifted her into the air, twirling her around; like an immature toddler, she screamed in thrill and giggled in joy. Enthusiasm and amusement spread from Luke, stretching towards all directions.
Anakin set Leia down after she yelped dizziness. He could hear their laughter, so pure and innocent. For countless times, tears threatened to seep out from his eyes, and when they finally did, he frantically wiped them away with his left arm stump, sliding his eyelids down at the same time.
While the world darkened in his closed eyes, he felt the temperate breeze wash away, and he drifted, up and away, up and away...
He tried to reach for his children, to clamp his hand with their grasps, but they were far gone, in the ground below. There was a clear voice that trickled into his head. The voice only spoke: "Mother is waiting for you..."
Luke? Leia?
Sluggishly, reluctantly, he opened his eyes. The scene in front of him was so familiar and uninviting, so vastly different from that heaven that had been his dream...
He was lying on metal. The coldness of it hit his skin, making him shiver. His ribs hurt from his excessive laughter, and his cheek muscles were practically burning, for they had not been so used in decades. He could feel tears still running down his face, dripping down, blurring his vision, forming a small puddle. With each passing moment, the metal felt colder and colder, and his hand began to shake, then his entire body...
Quivering under a blanket, trembling above the harsh, freezing surface of the cot.
Oh. I'm back.
He wished so desperately that he could still be in that trance, but he supposed there was an end to everything.
His children have passed. He could not deny the truth any longer.
"Luke... Leia... Luke... Leia..."
The words projected to the opposite wall, then reverberated around the cell, echoing across the metal slabs. Salt stung the flesh under his cracked skin; however, he did not flinch. This little bit of suffering on an already spoiled facade was nothing.
It was time he stopped clinging on. The pain, the constant anguish... not worth it. Not worth what ecstasy his death could bring - if he were fortunate enough to be granted permission to pass into the Light.
But... but he should write Sal a note... a note for trying to comfort him and help him cope.
A small metal bar was lifted into the air and began etching marks into the lone chair.
***
Unhesitating, he rested his head onto the thin pillow and closed his aching eyes. A resolute metal hand wrapped its fingers around his oxygen tube, clenching it tight.
With a swift jolt, he yanked the tube off from the hole in his trachea, and watch the slender object rise into a natural position, dislodging itself further. The air left his lungs, but he did not gasp for it to come back, instead remaining in silence, so the guards would not notice and prevent his death. He could feel himself choking, deprived of oxygen, but there was no panic.
He was at peace. Luke and Leia -the greatest gifts ever to be bestowed upon him- seemed to be by his side, cradling his body, ready to lift his spirit away from his corporeal form. Ghostly fingers affectionately stroke his bald head and marred face. If he could be sure he was not hallucinating, then he would say their faces were also there, smiling down at him, loving him, calling for him.
Their angelic voices came in gentle murmurs.
"Rest now, Father..."
"It is time you join the nonliving..."
"We are waiting for you..."
For a few moments, his vision shifted blindly between black and consciousness. Then, one of his children veiled a hand over his eyes, further sending him towards his eternal sleep. Darkness ensued, encasing him, but he basked in it, for the darkness is not cold and callous, not like the Darkness of the Sith, but soothing and welcoming. There was no pain, no suffering, only an everlasting tranquility and comfort. Warmth flowed out to him from the Force, and he smiled, knowing he will be with his family soon.
"There's perpetual sunlight here, Father..."
"I love you, Father. I'll always love you, no matter what..."
"Mother is waiting for you..."
A last breath drifted from his lungs.
In a few hours, when the guards come inside with his next meal, they will discover their prisoner to have passed on.
*******************************************
A/N:
Yay. My "classic". Killing off a character after they dream of something better. Unhealthy or not, I dunno.
There's an epilogue.