Hey everyone :) Hope you enjoy this chapter, some notes at the bottom.

CHAPTER FOUR

Anakin awoke, feeling his senses return to him slowly but not yet willing to open his eyes. There was a dull throbbing in his head that was growing increasingly worse as his body became conscious.

With a sigh, realising he could not block out the pain in his head, he opened his blue eyes.

It became apparent to his still hazy mind, that he was no longer in the hospital wing. The room he was currently in was walled in a harsh steel, with a force field preventing entry and exit on one wall. A single doorway led into what appeared to be a small bathroom. The bed he was laying on was the only piece of furniture within the room.

A rage grew deep within him, the knowledge that he had been imprisoned without an opportunity to speak and explain caused the ever-present darkness to cloud over his vision slightly. With a determined shake of the head, he brushed the rage away, remembering everything he had done to deserve to be imprisoned.

He found himself dressed in simple clothing; a white shirt with black trousers tucked into boots. The prosthetics that had been fitted to his arm and legs were unnoticeable in the dim light, the new skin blending perfectly with the old. He noticed that his skin had lost the unhealthy pallor it once held, due to the various drugs he had been taking to inject his withered body with life and vitality.

Stumbling slightly, he arose from the small bed and walked to the refresher, knowing that a mirror would be fitted inside and would allow him to see his fully finished physique.

The last thing he remembered was being placed in a UV chamber, that was used mainly for the vain and wealthy who wished to have a darker skin tone, but it was also used to activate prosthetic skin's defences against radiation, similar to the way normal skin acted as a shield against stars' radiation. He had been requested to be unconscious for the ordeal, as bright light had always reminded him of Tatooine, which was a planet (and past) he would rather forget.

The reflection in the mirror, once he arrived, was startling.

His features were comparable to those of his youth. The skin was still much paler from his childhood, due to his inexposure to any sunlight in the last twenty years, which also consequently helped to stall the aging process. There were wrinkles surrounded his tired looking eyes, and deep grooves by his mouth, but he could pass for a little younger than his own age. His eyebrows were starting to grow back; thick and dark over the same blue eyes, and brown hair had started to sprout from his chin and head, starting to cover some of the scars that could not have been improved upon.

A long scar ran down one cheek. It was rather thin and matched the colour of his tone, but was noticeable when his fingers ghosted over the skin.

With another sigh he started the grooming ritual he had adopted in his younger days. He had to drag himself out of the shower after ten minutes for the feel of water on his skin felt too luxurious, and he felt to unworthy of any surplus in his incarcerated state. He shaved the stubble growing his face, giving it a more youthful appearance, and making him look less haggard in the process.

He attempted a smile in the mirror, almost wincing at the insincere way his lips quirked upwards. He had not smiled truly in years, only adopting a hidden smirk when satisfied.

Feeling slightly more alert, and with the headache beginning to fade, he returned to his main cell.

Five guards had entered, and were currently standing in the middle of the cell, all looking extremely nervous to be in the presence of the notorious Darth Vader. They all looked slightly shocked at his human appearance, but failed to vocalise it, suggesting they had been informed of the change in his appearance beforehand.

He towered above the group and his broad physique still allowed for him to be an intimidating presence when he desired.

He merely raised an eyebrow, a habit he had never been able to break out of, even under the mask.

"Well?"

His voice sounded gravely, its disuse becoming apparent. He only needed to whisper in his suit for the sound to projected, and he had to remind himself to speak loudly to the group of nervous rebels.

"We are to take you into a conference room, to a private meeting with Chancellor Mothma and Knight Skywalker," one of the braver guards mentioned, stepping forward slightly, hand gripping his pistol in an attempt to portray his dominance.

He repressed a derisive snort, and walked forward, holding out his hands to be cuffed. He stood there for a few moments, hands out and with an eyebrow still raised before the group sparked into action. His hands were cuffed, and both of his arms were held tightly by the guards, the others withdrew their weapons and trained them onto him as he was escorted out of the small cell and down a long corridor.

Eventually, they reached a large chamber. It was made of the same steel of his cell, but a few decorative arches and beams had been places across the high ceiling in an attempt to create a warmer atmosphere. A large window on the opposite wall showed a familiar skyline of a city plunged in darkness. He felt his hands being freed, and vaguely heard the guards leaving the room and positioning themselves outside the door, should their presence be required.

He broke his gaze from the room and focused on its two occupants. His son and 'Chancellor' Mon Mothma, has she had been introduced as. Luke gave him an enigmatic smile, whilst Mothma looked stony.

"Please do be seated," she asked in her usual detached tone.

He boldly strode to the seat she had pointed out to, one opposite hers and Luke's and sat down, crossing his arms over his chest, preparing himself for the onslaught of questions to come.

Mothma still had the grace she had in her younger days. Her 'Declaration of Rebellion' had instantly made her a personal interest of his, knowing she was a friend of his wife's. It had caused him to wonder whether Padmé would consider similar action if she were still alive.

He knew that she would.

"I think we all know why we are here," Luke said bluntly, forcing him to temporarily forget his wife and suppress a smirk at his son's lack of political decorum.

"Son, you are simply deluded if you believe that is how politics work. We talk around the issue for a good few hours first, both drawing on the most irrelevant examples to emphasise a point that is already accepted, before thinking of the most illogical solution to it. That's how the Empire was formed," Anakin stated to a bemused Luke and a pensive Mothma.

"Perhaps that is where we went wrong," The red head stated simply, her cold eyes staring into his own.

"Perhaps," he conceded. Shrugging his arms loose and giving the older woman his full attention. Though she was only a few years older then himself, age and stress had not being kind to her, though it seemed that she was fairly content with the route her life had taken her down.

"Knight Skywalker has attempted to explain to me the dichotomy of your character, in reference to the Force and the ancient order of the Jedi Knights, but I am afraid I must hear it from you. I want to know what happened to turn you from a man into the monster we were all too familiar with."

Anakin was slightly shocked at her forthrightness, and the bluntness of her words.

Running a hand tiredly through the stubble on his head, he decided that he had been hiding from his past for too long, and that the time had come to divulge some of the memories he would rather forget.

"I was a slave, with my mother, on Tatooine for most of my younger years, until a wayward spacecraft carrying a young Queen, and two Jedi Knights descended upon us. My mother and I helped them, and in return they took me from that hell and attempted to train me to become a Jedi Knight. Yoda almost refused, sensing the darkness in me even then," Anakin paused, wondering what had become of the old Jedi Master, ignoring the attention solely placed on him by the other two occupants of the room.

"It would seem I escaped slavery into another, a manipulation instigated by Palpatine that sealed my fate. Wrong choices along the way and the deaths of those who I loved, against the code I might add, aided the path to the dark."

"What code?" Luke asked with interest, his face alive with interest.

"The Jedi Code. 'There is no emotion, passion, ignorance or death," Anakin started, remembering the lessons he once had as an apprentice many years ago.

"And no declared love," Mothma stated.

"How did you and Mother..."

"Not now Luke," He commented idly, trying to convey that it would be a topic approached later.

Mon Mothma looked over at some papers in front of her, detailing his crimes as he had been told, the known ones at least.

"A death of a mother and wife can produce many ill effects on a person, and I am hardly one to judge on that, especially considering your past," She said slowly, keeping her gaze trained on the healing man.

"Who told you of my mother?" Anakin demanded angrily, rising from his seat and slamming his hands upon the table in front of him.

Luke looked at him with reproachful eyes, whilst Mothma concealed any emotion behind a long practised mask.

"Padmé," she stated simply, ignoring his rage and carrying on with her probing.

Luke was a comforting presence throughout the ordeal, showing his empathy through the Force, but he felt unworthy of it. It pained him to know his former enemies knew he was nothing but a slave boy from a backwards planet.

"Despite your past, your actions will not be excused," Mothma stated, as if talking to the small child he had detailed in his words.

"I know that," He snapped back, the familiar temper flaring within him quickly, before he managed to quench it.

She sighed and raised a hand to massage one of her temples, a sign of weakness he was surprised she would display in front of him.

"Politics aside, I want to thank you for destroying the Emperor and all the evil he thrived for, you have given us a chance to restore the balance."

Her words jolted him more then he thought was possible. Could it be all of this was predestined? He thought, almost dismissing the idea before Luke spoke up.

"We know of the prophecy, and this does give you some credibility. I personally believe your life was planned before you were even born," the serious young man stated, offering a comforting smile to his father.

"But you will still have to go into court, where a jury will seal your fate, though you can rest assured, execution will not be an option," Mothma said, standing and abruptly leaving, papers in her aged hand.

He turned back to his son, the brief meeting still heavy on his mind and plaguing his thoughts.

"Come, I shall escort you back to your cell," Luke said, standing up and offering another smile.

"There is no need to treat me like a slave boy, even if you know I was one," He snapped, striding out of the room, his son following. He sensed the guards from before hovering at a distance, clearly not willing to trust him alone with his son, despite him being able to take care of himself very adequately.

After feeling guilty, a rather foreign feeling to him, for a moment, he decided to try and explain himself better.

"Luke, I am your father. You should be respecting me, not pitying me," He stated, unable to keep a bitter tone out of his voice.

Luke did not answer until he was sitting on the bed in his cell.

"Perhaps you should stop pitying yourself first."

Anakin grimaced as his son walked away, unable to quite convince himself that Luke was wrong.

Urgh, sorry this took forever. It was hell to write. So if it's crap, please forgive me!

Also, this fic is on livejournal, I'm under mutinousp for those who want to add me, I shall be posting the original up there as well.

Thanks again for reading, any comments/reviews/emails etc. are all welcome!

M.P.