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Her brother had taken to righteous piety like a duck to water, or so it seemed in Leia’s opinion. Her brother. It still sounded strange when she said it to herself, let alone aloud. The young Jedi had been seen sparingly by his friends over the past fortnight and Leia had suspected where he’d been spending most of that time.
She hadn't seen her brother eat, didn’t know the last time he’d slept. In the scarce moments she had seen him, he was gone just as quickly, presumably rushing back to his self-imposed post in the medical ward.
“So,” Han was the first to break the long silence as they walked, “what exactly does Luke expect to get outta-”
“I don’t know, Han.” Leia sighed, keeping a steady pace slightly ahead of him and the Wookiee, each behind a shoulder like a bickering devil and angel.
“What’s he get out of it?” The ex-smuggler still wondered. “Does he just sit there and watch him all day?”
Behind him, Chewie let out a loud yarl.
“And help him do what?” Han exclaimed, flexing a hand. “Kid’s good at what he does, but he ain’t a doctor.” The Wookiee let out a low growl, followed by a series of yips and a huff.
“Well he’s doing more than I would,” Han snorted. “Wouldn’t catch me going near that old creep for-”
“Could we just stop?” Leia broke in, grasping both their attentions. “We’re almost there.”
Whether it was out of respect for Leia, the environment they had entered or both, they kept silent as they made their way through the sterile, white hallways of the medical bay, soon enough finding the room they were looking for. It wasn’t hard, being the only room that was flanked by two guards stationed outside, their weapons held lazily in their arms. Upon seeing them, they immediately stood to attention.
“Princess Organa,” they saluted. Leia gave them a little wave, easing them down.
“Fellas,” Han greeted with a click.
“General Solo,” they regarded him in unison. The ex-smuggler gave a lopsided grin, shoving a hand lazily in his pocket. “So, we still good for cards later?”
“Oh yeah,” she heard from behind her as she stepped into the room, the door soon whooshing shut. Almost immediately, a strong antibacterial scent assailed her. Chewie placed a strong hand on her shoulder to steady her as she took a moment to acclimatise. Looking up at him, she gratefully patted his large hand before glancing back at the door, the sound of planned merriment echoing beyond.
Gazing back up at Chewie, she gave a light-lipped, familiar smile. In return, the Wookiee gave her a little nod of encouragement before they turned to face into the room.
What she saw was the typical tableau of a hospital room with the man who she now knew to be her father lying in the centre. Above the sleeping man was a bright domed light, its beam drawing shadows along his cheeks and under the pits of his lower eyelids, giving the grim impression of a funerary shroud. At one side of the bed, machines beeped and gasped, bringing the only sounds of life into the space. A nurse was leaning over him, drawing blood just below the stinger of an intravenous drip that took purchase in a knotted vein. At the free side of the room, Luke watched over him.
Her brother sat upright, ramrod stiff with purpose despite his stillness. His eyes were closed, hands resting on his knees as if in meditation. Just as the nurse turned to acknowledge the newcomers, as if on cue, Luke’s eyes opened slowly before turning to regard them also.
“Leia,” he greeted quietly.
“Princess,” the nurse also addressed, clasping her hands together with a little curtsy.
“Please, that’s not necessary,” she said before her eyes again fell to the sleeping man in the bed. Hesitantly, she took a step forward. She was about to take another before she suddenly recanted, backing into Chewie, who’s large chest kept her supported along with the powerful hand once again firmly grasping her shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” her brother said, seemingly realising her concern. Stiffly, he rose from his chair, stepping towards his sister. “He’s quite asleep.”
“Rest is the best thing for him,” the nurse added, checking her patient over. “Commander Skywalker hasn’t left his side, have you?”
“Well, I wouldn’t strictly say that,” Luke replied with a bashful smile. He didn’t much look like a commander now; the self-assurance in his stance, the way he held himself in his robes, how it had even crept into the way he spoke. Whatever the two had went through above Endor, though Luke had spoken little of it, there was a change in him. This new-found confidence, however, did little to hide the craning of his strained neck or the circles starting to form under his eyes.
“When was last time you slept?” She asked, concerned as she looked over his face, not failing to notice the dark stubble that was now forming along his jaw and neck. “Or ate?”
“I’m fine,” he brushed her off, blinking a few times.
“Well that’s funny,” she said dryly, folding her arms, “because that doesn't sound like an acceptable answer to either question.” Chewie chuffed in agreement.
“I can’t just leave him,” he countered, more the boy and less the regal Jedi.
“We have given Commander Skywalker every possible assurance,” the nurse spoke up from beside the bed as she glanced over the monitors. “His father’s condition would be monitored closely. Should anything happen, he would be notified.”
“How is he doing?” Leia asked, finally coming closer, Chewie right behind her, his hand still firmly on her shoulder.
“Poorly,” the nurse admitted grimly, insuring the older man’s nasal cannula was secure. “This is a sick man, princess. Every time we give him something to balance out a symptom, it triggers another symptom. He’s an icebox one day and a furnace the next. He doesn't eat. He mostly sleeps, and the odd times he wakes up, I’m not sure he’s even aware of what’s going on.”
“Do you think he-” whatever Leia was about to ask was stopped short when she heard a small noise. Looking down, she saw the bedridden man’s eyelids flutter lightly, a little moan escaping his lips as his head weakly rolled to the side.
She watched as the nurse went over to the bed quickly, leaning over her patient. Carefully she placed the back of her hand over his forehead before pulling back in concern. She then looked closely at the screen beside the bed.
“He’s burning again,” she said worriedly before hastily making for the door. “He needs to be cooled down. I’ll be back as soon as I can, commander.”
Luke just nodded, about to settle back into his chair. “I’m going to-”
“Get something to eat and some rest,” Leia finished, reaching to catch his arm before he could sit.
“Leia-”
“He’ll be fine,” she reassured. “I’ll watch him.” She took her brother by the shoulders, turning him to face her. “If anything happens, I’ll call someone.” Beside her, Chewie nodded, letting out a throaty gurgle. Looking up at the Wookiee, Luke was met with a beady-eyed stare from above. The young man’s lip tugged up at the corner, seemingly trying to formulate his defence. This only earned him a head cock from Chewie, the challenge formally issued. The young Jedi couldn’t help but smile as Chewie moved a hand to ruffle his hair.
“If you’re sure,” he said, finally relenting as Chewie affectionately took him by the arms, steering him towards the door.
“I am. Now go.” She pointed playfully before settling herself into the bedside chair. “You need a break.” She watched as Chewie finally ushered Luke out before another arm playfully jostled him from the side. “Hey, long time so see, junior! Up for some grub?”
Then the door whooshed shut.
She sat in silence, content to listen to the measured pumps of air and steady beeping coming from the monitors. Staring ahead, she watched as the screens displayed in numerous colours the various vitals of the patient. Her eyes followed the lines as they danced on the screen in tune with the beeping.
A sudden burst of laughter from outside then caught her attention as the guards outside continued their chatter. Looking away again, she turned her head back to the bed, her eyes landing on the sleeping man. Immediately, she snapped her gaze back to the monitors, choosing to remain focused on them. As the silence continued, she realised that she was forcing herself to study the screens. What was she doing? She promised Luke she would watch him and that was the one thing she wasn’t doing. She was being ridiculous. Struggling to even look at a man in a bed.
Breathing out slowly, she let her eyes drift to the bottom of the bed before travelling up, looking on in shock as the blankets flattened sharply just below his knees. Glancing up further, she watched his bony chest tremor as it struggled to draw breath, his torso dominated by censors and wires. When she got to his face, she quickly closed her eyes.
Swallowing the lump forming in her throat, she breathed out deeply before finally opening them again, allowing herself to look upon the face of an old man propped up by pillows.
It was surreal. A moment ago, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him and now, she couldn’t look away. Gazing over his face, she took in every detail of the sleeping man. The scars, the lesions, the imperfections of his discoloured skin and sunken sockets. This wasn’t the face of a monster. Monster’s didn’t feel pain. But this man, whose face was etched with discomfort, did. Then, something in the corner of her eye then grabbed her attention. Peering down, she watched as the prosthetic hand lying by his side began to twitch, his head rolling to the side again as he wheezed weakly. Emitting another little moan, his metal fingers twitched ever so slightly.
Stiffly straightening, she stayed as quiet as she could, watching as his head continued to weakly shift. His eyelids fluttered as his eyes rolled in their sockets, fighting to open.
Looking around, she swiftly scanned walls for a call button, thankfully spotting one on the wall adjacent to the monitors. Slowly moving to get up, she went to reach for the button only to be suddenly halted by something. Instinctively she looked down, staring in shock to see his hand firmly grasping her wrist. Misty eyes stared at her, mouth slightly agape.
Once again swallowing the hard lump in her throat, she felt her chest tighten. Nostrils flaring, she fought to get her breathing under control as she continued to look into the eyes of the man who she thought now powerless, who once again held her in his grasp.
“Try to relax.” She licked her lips nervously. “I’m going to call someone.” Continuing to watch him, she attempted to pull her wrist from his grasp but he held her firm, despite his weakness. With effort, she remained calm. “I need to get your nurse. Let go.” She pulled again, his grip unrelenting as he continued to stare into her eyes. “Let go.”
Whether he heard her or not, he didn’t show, nor did he speak. Instead, his grip only seemed to tighten more. She looked down at her wrist then back to him, tugging sharply. Again, he did not release her. Instead his fingers splayed further up her arm for better purchase. Releasing a breath through her nose, she eyes hardened. “I’m not going to tell you again.”
He still did not register her words. He simply stared, eyes widening. “You shouldn’t be here,” he rasped, shaking his head. “This isn’t possible.”
Taken aback by both his natural voice and words, she just blinked. “Excuse me?”
His chest heaved unsteadily as the monitors beeped in distress. “You can’t be here.” He shook his head again. “You’re gone.”
She frowned confusedly. “Gone?”
He nodded jerkily, his eyes darting. “You’re dead.”
“I really need you to let go,” she reiterated again firmly, ignoring the hairs that were now standing. As she tried to twist her wrist out of his grip, she watched as the man’s ravaged face slowly melted from disbelief to near reverence as his eyes bore into hers, mesmerized.
“It’s been so long,” he whispered, old eyes threatening to well as he continued to gaze upon her face. “So long.”
“I need you to listen to me,” she began calmly, “you’re sick. You need help.” She waited for some kind of response, a hint of coherency. Still, he continued to stare.
“You’re confused,” she clarified, feeling her avenues closing. “I’m not who you think I am.”
Glassy, sapphire eyes continued to look at her longingly. Then, the tears that had threatened to fall finally did, slowly trailing down pale cheeks. His bottom lip quivered, voice breaking. “My love.”
Her eyes widened, taken aback. As she continued to watch the infirm man, she couldn’t, in that moment, tell whether it disturbed her or threatened to break something in her. As her mind tried to process what was happening, she felt the pressure on her wrist slowly loosen as he finally relented his grip, his fingers coming to rest atop her hand.
“You’re here,” he smiled at her lovingly. “My angel.”
Closing her eyes a moment, she released a long, slow breath, taking a moment to compose herself. Opening them again, she saw the scene before her for what it was. A sick, old man lost in his psyche, trapped in a dreamlike delirium. What she thought of this man could wait. He needed help.
“Okay,” she said, as gently as she could. “Why don’t you tell me about her?”
He frowned in confusion.
“This person,” Leia went on, forcing a smile, “tell me about her.”
He blinked lazily a few times, just looking at her, before his eyes soon wandered, focusing on nothing. She watched his brow furrow as he mouthed silently, blankly gazing ahead. Then, his lips stilled, wrinkled brow softening as his eyes slowly closed. Patiently, the young woman waited as he took in a few, unsteady breaths.
“She was beautiful,” he finally whispered. When he opened his eyes again, he looked as though he had aged one-hundred years. “She was like an angel.”
“What else?” She asked softly.
Aged, blue eyes regarded her tiredly now. “Shuura,” he gave her a weak smile. “She loved shurra. Shurra tarts. Her favourite.”
“What was her favourite colour?” Leia asked, surprised to find herself beginning to relax. Even more strangely, she found herself wanting to know more.
She listened as the old man told her all he could about this woman. Her favourite flowers. How her laugh made him smile. How her eyes lit up when she smiled. How loving she was, how brave. How she always loved thunderstorms. The way she liked to sing in the evenings. Her favourite melody.
It was strange, but the more she listened about this woman, the more she felt her own eyes begin to mist. Concealing a sniff with a cough, she quickly wiped at her nose, thankfully without him noticing. This woman who-
“Princess,” she was abruptly pulled from her thoughts by a voice. Glancing up, she saw the nurse re-enter the room, carrying supplies, this time accompanied by the doctor. Casually, the doctor approached the beside, taking a look at the monitors before acknowledging her patient with a smile.
“So, how are we feeling, Anakin?” She asked pleasantly as she pulled out her stethoscope, rubbing it against her sleeve to warm it.
“I’m cold and my head hurts,” the older man coughed hoarsely when she placed it against his chest, listening.
Taking her stethoscope away, the doctor just nodded. “That’s to be expected, all things considered. We’ll see about giving you something to help you sleep better, okay? But for now, we’re going to give you a nice, tepid bath. See if that helps some.” Silently, he just nodded as the nurse, on cue, began to recline the bed.
The doctor then looked to Leia. “We’ll take it from here, Your Highness. Thank you for remaining with him.”
“It’s the least I could do,” Leia replied, taking this chance to slip her hand out from under his as the nurse aided him in rolling onto his side. As she began to unlace his gown, Leia got up, averting her eyes in the hopes of giving him some privacy. As she made her way to the door, it was the faint hitching of breath that made her, against her better judgement, stop and turn. When she did, she found him looking straight at her, only this time there was something different about his eyes. They were clearer, more focused.
Paying no mind to the nurse who was gently and routinely washing him down, he intently examined her face, his eyes once more widening only this time not out of shock, but recognition.
“Sister,” he muttered, his eyes glued to the young woman.
What she saw, she would not forget. Devastation. Fixated on her was the face of a frail man gazing at his child, the shadow of a future he might have known but never would. Then, without another word, he turned his head away from her, clenching his eyes shut. It wasn’t until he let out a choked sob, that she felt her chest constrict.
“Anakin?” His doctor leaned in closer, concernedly placing a hand on his quaking shoulder. “What’s wrong?” She asked, rubbing comfortingly. She looked to the nurse, who shook her head lightly, seemingly just as much at a loss as her colleague.
“Please, excuse me,” Leia said, immediately leaving the room. She couldn’t watch any more. Once outside, she covered her mouth with her hand. Breathing deeply, she willed her own tears not to fall. Not in the open.
“Princess Organa,” she heard one of the guards address her, “are you okay?”
She nodded silently, opening her eyes. “Yes,” she sniffed, daintily wiping her nose. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” Wiping the rims of her eyes, she heard their hushed whispers. She knew had to compose herself, feeling their eyes on her.
Clearing her throat, she straightened as best she could, tucking her cold hands behind her back while turning to regard the two men. “As you were, gentlemen,” she said with a stiff nod. They looked to one another for a moment before deciding that if the princess wished it forgotten, then forgotten it would be. “Princess,” they saluted in unison.
Satisfied, she then turned on her heel and began to leave before a thought crossed her mind.
“Oh,” she said over her shoulder, “if there are any changes regarding the prisoner, I would like to know.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Nodding in gratitude, she once again turned and left, trying her best to ignore the persistent ache coming from behind her now stinging eyes, the knots her stomach was weaving and the increasing heaviness in her legs. She needed to be alone. As she walked blessedly closer and closer to her quarters, her mind raced with what had just occurred, what she had just witnessed. What she had seen in there, was not the man she once knew. That man was a remorseless murderer. An unstoppable, faceless, creature.
This man was lost with only the ghosts of his mistakes keeping him company and she would not do him the indignity of speaking about what she saw. Whether he recovered or not, she didn’t know. Only time would tell. What she did know was that what she saw, she would not forget.