Fandom: Star Wars
Prompt: zigsternenstaub's request: Vader/Palpatine + epiphany.
Word Count: 310
Summary: Palpatine observes Vader early in his rehabilitation.
Author's Notes: Hiatus drabble #3. And it's another 2nd person fic >.> Not sure this is what you had in mind but this is what came out!
The moans in your mind are just as raw, just as guttural as these... and some of them even stem from pain. The defining difference is the raspy quality of the sound as it's now filtered through a respirator. (Well... that, coupled with the distinct lack of pheromones saturating the Force.)
You've forbidden him to destroy any more medi-droids, and it does please you that he strives to obey this mandate. It is but a tiny spatter on the insatiable inferno of your rage.
You know the emotionless, mechanical ministrations of the medi-droids perturb him. He wants them to acknowledge his suffering, if not apologize for contributing to it.
They do neither. They simply do what must be done to ensure maximum rehabilitation -- physically.
Emotionally, he's best left to you. You know part of him wants to be coddled and soothed like a child, but the time for that has passed; you'll never mold him into the ruthless leader he needs to be by cooing nonsense to him. Let him hate you for it. Better he should feel hatred than apathy.
Better you should hate him than pity him. And oh, how you hate him for this.
He was your prize, a perfect physical manifestation of the Force. The mere sight of him would titillate every fiber of your being. Now he is but a broken shell of wasted Force potential, and the stench of what could have been repulses you even more than the charred remains of his once-beautiful flesh.
His cry of "Master" is dreadfully inferior to the one in your fantasies. You can stand it no more -- you turn away and leave him to his agony, though his moans follow you down the hall. Your inability to watch him suffer has nothing to do with compassion or love, of course.
Or so you tell yourself.