Rebels: Ahsoka's Reality

Elsewhere

Footsteps. Heavy. Mechanical. Menacing. Faster and faster. Each step becoming more and more terrifying. At least, that's what everyone thought every time the boots were heard.

The atmosphere of the entire station was an uneasy, "calm before the storm". And not a single soul knew the sheer magnitude and destructive nature of the approaching storm. That sound. Like a blaster overheating and continually cooling itself over and over, faster and faster. With each and every overheat came a footstep, and with each continuous cooling came another.

Footsteps. Heavy. Mechanical. Menacing. Faster and faster. Each step becoming more and more terrifying, more and more violent. At least, that's what everyone thought every time the boots were heard.

As the station grew more and more uneasy, the sweat of each and every crew member could be seen pouring down the sides of their faces like the waterfalls of Naboo. She loved her Master, the heavy footsteps thought. This only aggravated the boots, as their pounding fury only increased in their pace back and forth between the aisle of crew members. No one dared to look in the direction of the footsteps, even fewer dared glance out of the corner of their eye at them.

The uneasy calm turned into a chaotic mess of the footsteps. Hearts began to race, the sweat began to pour faster, the nervous gulps turned to scratched and raw throats. Everyone became terrified of the boots. The aura of the room could be felt radiating from those footsteps. Each crew member could feel the anger, the hate, the sorrow.

Footsteps. Heavy. Mechanical. Menacing. Faster and faster. Each step becoming more and more terrifying, more and more violent. More and more hateful. At least, that's what everyone thought every time the boots were heard.

No one could comprehend how the owner of these boots that bore the heavy, mechanical, menacing and furious footsteps, truly felt. How can they? The boots questioned themself. They are too weak minded to understand the true pain that I feel every time I breathe. Every time I take a step. Every time I think about HER.

The station began to shake, at first a low rumble, as though caught in a tractor beam, but soon turning horrifically violent. Around the crew, the walls began to crumble, the station's controls squeezing together like collapsing lungs. Then, one buy one, the crew members began to feel the pain the footsteps felt. Their breaths became short, their skin started to feel as though it was burning, and not just their faces or hands, but, their entire bodies. Inside and out.

A voice began to croak from one of the crew, "Lord," a struggling cough, "Vader," the man beginning to scratch ferociously at his throat, "please." Then, the begging crewman felt every single one of his bones begin to turn into powder as they were crushed by the sheer hatred of Darth Vader. Or so, for his last moments, he thought. Because right before his moment of death, the crewman felt something he'd never know to be capable from someone like the Sith Lord: sadness. Overwhelming, depressing, lonesome sadness. And then, life escaped his body. He fell limp to the floor, his body spreading as though it were a puddle, for he had no bones to keep everything in its place and not free flowing.

Footsteps. Heavy. Mechanical. Menacing. Faster and faster. Each step becoming more and more terrifying, more and more violent. More and more hateful. At least, that's what everyone thought every time the boots were heard. But their thoughts deceived them.

In all of his anger, Vader was not only damaging the station and his crew, but himself as well. His respirator had started to compact as if thrown into a garbage chute. He fell to one knee, releasing all of those still alive in the process. His body becoming weak, vision blurry and equilibrium out of balance. Vader struggled to stand on both his feet, but knew he must get to his chambers at once.

Breathing became increasingly harder. Without the aid of his suit, Vader struggled to do even the most mundane of tasks. He hated that this is who he was. Who he became. The thought of all his loss, all of his failure, drove him to the point of, sometimes, no return. How the mighty, Anakin Skywalker has fallen. He thought to himself. The apprentice, he finally made it to his feet, his arm providing the most support as it clutches to a control panel. The dark lord then began having a conflict within himself, Ahsoka Tano... she loved you. And you let her leave. No, I didn't let her leave, she left on her own account, I could not stop her. You could've told her the truth! Enough of this! You are just too afraid to admit the truth to yourself!

"ENOUGH!" Vader shouted aloud. He quickly looked around to see the crewmen staring at him, some in confusion, others with terror. "Everyone," he struggled, "back to your posts and keep this station running!" He then proceeded to struggle to his chambers as quickly as he could. All the while there, his footsteps could be heard.

Footsteps. Heavy. Mechanical. Menacing. Faster and faster. Each step becoming more and more terrifying, more and more violent. More and more hateful. At least, that's what everyone thought every time the boots were heard. But their thoughts deceived them. No one knew the hurt and sadness those footsteps carried. The years of self loathing, self torment, regret and sorrow. No one knew that the footsteps of the Sith Lord, Darth Vader, used to be filled with love. They used to carry the weight of one, Anakin Skywalker, and his love for his apprentice, Ahsoka Tano. The love he was never truly able to confess. No one knew that the boots of, Darth Vader, had visited the home planet of the Togruta, Shili, on numerous occasions, trying to find out whether or not she was still alive.

No one knew the real man underneath the helmet of Darth Vader. They simply knew the hate, the anger, the ferocity, the ruthless aggression, and the murder. Were they to know the man that he used to be, they'd understand. They would understand why he would remain mostly silent. They would understand why he was always looking to the stars, and why on the same day, every year, he would not leave his chambers. They would understand, that Darth Vader is a person, and his name is Anakin.