Disclaimer: This is a response ficlet to Jody's ficlet Healing Hands

Most of her co-workers were unaware of the true reason she asked to be his sole caregiver, but Dormé didn’t offer forth any information that would further incriminate Vader. With the illness now rampant all over Naboo now, there were fewer people to aid those in need of it and even less to ask the questions that Dormé dreaded to answer. If she had to, she would have had to admit who this man was and the crimes he had committed in order to find his children. She knew personally what lengths he had and would go to find them.

Lying on this cot, that was really too small for his large frame, he looked like a young boy, struggling to stay in this realm as the disease ravaged his body. He had bad dreams which continuously plagued him, causing her to rush to his bedside at all hours of the night. In the end, she took to remaining by his side while he slept for as long as she could as though she could single-handedly fight off the demons in his rest.

Weeks passed like this as she tended to his severe burns which had begun to blister in spite of her efforts. With care, she applied what little bacta she was able to get her hands on and wrapped the worst of the wounds. If the people knew who Vader was, there was no doubt in her mind that they would have him killed. They would say she was wasting her time and good medicine on a man that deserved the pain and suffering, that it would be a small price to pay for all the hate he spread across the galaxy and the innocent lives he claimed.

Dormé did not have the power to project a sentence on any man or woman, nor had she the right to make such claims. Even if she could, she knew that death was not something another person had the right to enforce on another person. Injustices and betrayal were things he knew first hand, just as well as Dormé did. Was it any reason for him to commit the same sorts of acts? Was it any reason for him not to? Right or wrong, this man was one of the many who contracted the fever, he suffered along with them—whether he was to blame for this illness or not, it didn’t matter—and he was a man who wanted to see his children and had never been given the opportunity.

It was in times like these that she was thankful to the Naboo government for vaccinating the handmaidens upon entrance into the service of the queen. It was also in times like these that she cursed the government for having failed all the poor areas on Naboo, for not providing them with care or discounted vaccinations. Dormé knew if she hadn’t entered into the royal service, she would be here on a bed much like this, struggling to survive. She wished she could do more for these people and knew it was too late for vaccinations. If they made it through, they would never have to suffer through this disease again.

Her hands shook as she poured ingredients into the small pot used for making a vitamin-enriched broth. She accidentally spilled a little too much inside the boiling water and cursed under her breath. Her hands were not as they used to be.

Never in her life had she experienced such pain. It was hard to remain conscious as every last joint in her hand was yanked out of place. At least, she thought, it was her right hand, not her left. She didn’t want to show weakness, nor did she want to let her captor know he was succeeding, but she couldn’t help letting tears escape. The tears were not solely for her pain, but for the the extent at which he tried to gain information from her that she knew he would not get from her. His desperation brought new tears to her eyes.

She wanted to tell him she didn’t know how to find his children, that she would do whatever she could to help him find them, but Dormé knew whatever she would say, he wouldn’t believe her. The only way to believe her would be through actions and it was for this reason that she remained silent.

She recalled so many arguments between her mistress and him, how he would nearly beg, how Padmé would roll her eyes and tolerate, how often Dormé had to rearrange the couch after he left…

The harsh words, the feigned affection…

The revelation of her mistress’s pregnancy and the curses Padmé unleashed upon finding out…

But Dormé never heard of any plans for the children except that Padmé wanted to have them on Naboo and that she planned on a short maternity leave. If Dormé knew, she would have told Anakin because he was their father and deserved to know. But she had no information to offer him.

Amidala had betrayed them all.

Dormé had thought she was serving a good person, who was going to do good for Naboo and the galaxy, but all of it had been a lie, an exceedingly good lie that was able to fool many people for a short time. Now her time was up.

It seemed that Dormé’s time was up now too.

He called her Padmé and she knew that he was hallucinating now. He thought she was that witch that destroyed their lives. But Dormé wasn’t angry. If torturing her made him feel better, allowed him to get over the past, perhaps even prevented him from killing other innocent people, then Dormé would gladly sacrifice herself. Perhaps someday he would know how much she had loved, lost, and risked on his behalf, struggling in the background to prevent his secret from being revealed.

Her head felt as though it was going to explode as he worked some Force magic on her brain. She was not trying to hide anything and there was nothing that she wouldn’t allow him to see, but the pressure was building to the point that she could no longer maintain consciousness and she collapsed.

Dormé awoke to find that she was no longer in captivity, but on a soft bed of grass. Her mind felt a little numb as she sat up and took in her surroundings. It was a garden. It looked like Naboo. She remained seated for a moment as she regained her balance, wondering why she was here of all places, but more importantly why she wasn’t dead. Why had Vader let her go? All the rumours she had heard about Vader emphasized the fact that he was now a monster, that he was a god of death and would kill people, innocent children, for no reason other than that he enjoyed it.

No, Vader, once known as Anakin, was a man. He was not a monster. He believed he was in the right for committing these deeds and had yet to learn that it was not the right way of going about it.

Raising his head slightly so that he could drink the broth she prepared, Dormé looked into his eyes. Those bright blue eyes were the very same eyes she had looked into when he was a Padawan learner, back then they were cheerful, charming eyes that could make a girl’s heart beat twice as fast. Now they were wizened, sorrowful eyes that almost seemed to ask for forgiveness.

She replaced the cloth on his head with a colder one as he asked her why she was doing this. He actually spoke to her and this brought a small smile of hope to her face, for he had never addressed her in this fashion before. What would he believe? It was best to keep it simple, to remain as she so often did, relegated to the sidelines.

Gently touching his cheek, she didn’t know what she could say except that this was something she could do. She was nothing to him, never had been, and never would be.

Then Vader smiled. It was a smile that broke her heart, bringing new tears to her eyes. Certainly the gratitude he expressed was not for her, but for another, in another time before the wars and the madness that engulfed the known galaxy…

She watched over him as he drifted to sleep, vowing that when he recovered, she would continue to look for information on the Skywalker children, in hopes of being able to restore them to their father. Maybe then Anakin would look at her and truly see her, not just as a reflection of her mistress. Maybe then she would have a name and not be a representation of another.