Darth Vader Goes to Therapy

An Unwilling Patient

Author's note: Cover by AngelGidget. Reposted from my other account, LadyVader23. 

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Vader did not need therapy.

The idea was absolutely preposterous, and he said as much to his Master.

"I am a Sith!" He fumed. He didn't care that he hadn't been ordered to rise from the kneeling position he'd taken up in front of his Master's throne. He was standing now, fists clenched at his sides, teeth grinding so painfully, his entire jaw hurt. "Sith do not go to therapy!"

Sidious frowned, his eyes narrowing, but he didn't punish him. He didn't say anything about his insubordination. He just said, "I understand, Lord Vader. The fact is, your mission over Ryloth was a complete PR disaster. My Empire is terrified of you."

"That is the point--"

"They are calling for action to remove you, Lord Vader." The Emperor stood and began to head down the steps towards him. "This is not a few, like that of the Rebellion. We can crush those. If I start murdering every citizen in my galaxy, I won't have a Empire to rule over."

He stopped in front of him, looking up to meet his eyes. "The Imperial Court has offered you going to therapy as a way to keep the peace. People have tentatively accepted it as it is."

"You know just as well as I do there is nothing wrong with what I did. You ordered--"

"I know. I did not anticipate this response." He said it like he'd tasted something sour. "So if a hundred and fifty--"

"A hundred and fifty?!"

"--A hundred and fifty days passes and the citizens have forgotten the issue, which the vast majority of them will, you can shove the therapist out an airlock for all I care." The Emperor brushed past him and his red guards hurried to flank him. "Expect to welcome your new therapist aboard the Executor in two days' time."

Vader wanted to argue. He wanted to rip the entire palace apart, brick by brick. He wanted to roar his rage.

But his Master's will was done. He would have to actually comply with the Imperial Court system. He'd have to deal with some self-important therapist for far longer than was desirable.

If anything, he was pretty sure he'd need a therapist from his therapist by the end of all this.

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Luke Lars (or Skywalker, though that wasn't his legal name), bounced on the balls of his feet, watching through the cockpit port windows as the Executor-Class Star Dreadnought, and flagship of Darth Vader's fleet, came closer and closer.

This was it. His first client. His first real job. He'd only just barely graduated from the Academy. Sure, the Academy was known mainly for it's excellent Navy program (his first choice), but it also had a little-known but excellent counselling program designed specifically for military personnel. It was a small program--and by small, he had five others in his graduating class. The Empire wasn't exactly...known for its emphasis on mental health.

But maybe he could change that.

Still, he did have quite the intimidating first client.

Darth Vader.

The guy who'd apparently led a massacre of the innocent civilians on Ryloth, which had prompted massive public outcry, which had prompted the Imperial Court to mandate therapy.

Normally, he wouldn't take on someone with so much baggage. But when his superior had come to him, literally begging because every single therapist had turned the job down...he couldn't say no.