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ladyofleithianTitle: The Anatomy Of A Regret
Summary: After another nightmare about the destruction of the Death Star post-first mission to Mimban, Anakin goes to talk with Daala. What he finds is the last thing he truly expects.
Prompt: Wild Card -- Failure.
Warnings: Possibly triggering content for suicide, angst, and my rusty writing skills.
Author's Notes: Tangentially inspired via elizabeth_hoot's rebuttal to the "Luke is a mass-murderer for blowing up the Death Star even though he had perfectly valid reasons for doing so" argument you sadly hear in a lot of meta, fic, etc. Because it's probably the best way to get my -- sort of confused -- feelings about the matter in question out.
It was only after Mimban that the nightmares came back full force. Not that they hadn't been there before, but never in such a skull-ripping intensity. So many people, quietly pleading for Tarkin, for anyone to save them. So many people, sacrificed all for the sake of the destruction of Naboo. So many people, sacrificed for nothing. So many people, sacrificed in a situation that would have meant other people's deaths otherwise. So many people...
"Stand by...stand by..."
The gunner of the Death Star, his voice shaking a little even as he gave the order. Anakin could feel fear, and not only fear in the gunner -- self-hatred. He was ultimately punishing himself for something he had no choice but to do. He was willing to die -- to sacrifice himself to destroy the Death Star -- and ultimately atone for his sins.
And even that terrified Anakin. Even feeling it -- that wild, out of control, raging inferno of self-hatred in the gunner -- that, somehow, terrified Anakin the most.
When Anakin finally awoke, the first impulse he had
once he'd managed to regain his understanding of his surroundings
was to go to the fresher and vomit. Once his dinner had effectively been emptied into the fresher, he sighed. He could only envy how well Padme and the others slept -- he didn't sleep at all well anymore. Perhaps he may have slept slightly better previous to Mimban, but even so, he didn't know anymore.
He'd intended to go out onto the porch to think a bit -- to lose himself in the stars, to get some fresh air, anything to get his mind off the dreams. He hadn't expected to find Daala there as well.
"You're still grieving, aren't you?"
Despite himself, Anakin merely nodded. For Kitster, for those pilots who had died assaulting the Death Star, for those who had died on the Death Star
he'd heard them scream in his dreams. he'd heard them scream for Tarkin to save them
monster though he was
but Tarkin had been blown up along with them. Gone. Vanished. Nothing more than those gone into the netherworld of the Force, as Palpatine had put it surprisingly eloquently, more needless sacrifices in a completely needless
yet oddly necessary
war.
he knew not. Either way, he couldn't help but hate Vader all the more -- Vader and the Empress both; what lies or threats had they used against the soldiers to lure them so far from home? Had they threatened their families? Their children? Their friends?
Or were they deluded into thinking they were doing the right thing? Somehow, Anakin didn't know anymore.
Daala gently put a hand over his. "You did only what you could."
"I don't think it's that simple, Daala."
"In war, there aren't any easy decisions. Or right ones, for that matter."
"Yet everyone acts like I did the right thing even though I committed murder."
He half-expected Daala to give him another one of those odd excuses that others had given him
including Palpatine
such as "you did what you could" and "there was no other way. they would have killed us too" -- true, yes, but even that didn't seem to stop the feelings of self-doubt and dread.
Daala placed a hand on his shoulder. "We've all had to make sacrifices in war. I know back during the Vong Wars I made more than a few." A bitter smile twisted her lips. "I can't say the Holonet quite let me live those down. Or the Order."
"What do you mean?"
"It was a mission to the Outer Rim planet Ariel IV. Caedus was relentless. We managed to win the battle and free the planet from the Corellian Separatist hold -- you have no idea what he was making them do, Anakin. And I really doubt you want to know either."
"Go on."
"And even though we won the battle -- so many people died. People whose lives I was unable to save. Some of them were soldiers who willingly gave their lives for the cause, others were -- others were completely avoidable. I..."
If it were Padme or anyone else, Anakin would have placed a hand on their shoulder to let them know he was still there. But all he could say now was, "Daala...you really think you were to blame?"
"They said the same things your friends tell you now: that it wasn't my fault, that I did the best I could. Although there was the occasional...talk that I only got the position because I slept with my commanding officer to get it."
"But you're a brilliant commander!"
Daala chuckled. "You're far too kind. I do the best I can." Then she grew more somber. "I can't speak for the people who died on the Death Star -- I can only wonder if it could have ended differently. But those who died alongside you..." She gently placed a hand on Anakin's shoulder. "I have been there before, Anakin. I'm not merely saying this to console you -- I truly have. I've seen soldiers under my command die needlessly far too many times for my liking -- the Vong Wars, and even on the run from the Empire. In a perfect galaxy there wouldn't be any war -- there wouldn't be any need for anyone to die for us -- but here we are."
She seemed so vulnerable now -- so broken, the weight of so many years fighting against Caedus collapsing on her, that Anakin could now respond to his need to comfort her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she took it -- he couldn't help but feel pleased that his offer was accepted.
"We're going to make them proud, Daala," he said. "And that's a promise."
"Maybe." Daala seemed to return to her old self again -- that was good. "We'll see."
Summary: After another nightmare about the destruction of the Death Star post-first mission to Mimban, Anakin goes to talk with Daala. What he finds is the last thing he truly expects.
Prompt: Wild Card -- Failure.
Warnings: Possibly triggering content for suicide, angst, and my rusty writing skills.
Author's Notes: Tangentially inspired via elizabeth_hoot's rebuttal to the "Luke is a mass-murderer for blowing up the Death Star even though he had perfectly valid reasons for doing so" argument you sadly hear in a lot of meta, fic, etc. Because it's probably the best way to get my -- sort of confused -- feelings about the matter in question out.
It was only after Mimban that the nightmares came back full force. Not that they hadn't been there before, but never in such a skull-ripping intensity. So many people, quietly pleading for Tarkin, for anyone to save them. So many people, sacrificed all for the sake of the destruction of Naboo. So many people, sacrificed for nothing. So many people, sacrificed in a situation that would have meant other people's deaths otherwise. So many people...
"Stand by...stand by..."
The gunner of the Death Star, his voice shaking a little even as he gave the order. Anakin could feel fear, and not only fear in the gunner -- self-hatred. He was ultimately punishing himself for something he had no choice but to do. He was willing to die -- to sacrifice himself to destroy the Death Star -- and ultimately atone for his sins.
And even that terrified Anakin. Even feeling it -- that wild, out of control, raging inferno of self-hatred in the gunner -- that, somehow, terrified Anakin the most.
When Anakin finally awoke, the first impulse he had
once he'd managed to regain his understanding of his surroundings
was to go to the fresher and vomit. Once his dinner had effectively been emptied into the fresher, he sighed. He could only envy how well Padme and the others slept -- he didn't sleep at all well anymore. Perhaps he may have slept slightly better previous to Mimban, but even so, he didn't know anymore.
He'd intended to go out onto the porch to think a bit -- to lose himself in the stars, to get some fresh air, anything to get his mind off the dreams. He hadn't expected to find Daala there as well.
***
"You're still grieving, aren't you?"
Despite himself, Anakin merely nodded. For Kitster, for those pilots who had died assaulting the Death Star, for those who had died on the Death Star
he'd heard them scream in his dreams. he'd heard them scream for Tarkin to save them
monster though he was
but Tarkin had been blown up along with them. Gone. Vanished. Nothing more than those gone into the netherworld of the Force, as Palpatine had put it surprisingly eloquently, more needless sacrifices in a completely needless
yet oddly necessary
war.
he knew not. Either way, he couldn't help but hate Vader all the more -- Vader and the Empress both; what lies or threats had they used against the soldiers to lure them so far from home? Had they threatened their families? Their children? Their friends?
Or were they deluded into thinking they were doing the right thing? Somehow, Anakin didn't know anymore.
Daala gently put a hand over his. "You did only what you could."
"I don't think it's that simple, Daala."
"In war, there aren't any easy decisions. Or right ones, for that matter."
"Yet everyone acts like I did the right thing even though I committed murder."
He half-expected Daala to give him another one of those odd excuses that others had given him
including Palpatine
such as "you did what you could" and "there was no other way. they would have killed us too" -- true, yes, but even that didn't seem to stop the feelings of self-doubt and dread.
Daala placed a hand on his shoulder. "We've all had to make sacrifices in war. I know back during the Vong Wars I made more than a few." A bitter smile twisted her lips. "I can't say the Holonet quite let me live those down. Or the Order."
"What do you mean?"
"It was a mission to the Outer Rim planet Ariel IV. Caedus was relentless. We managed to win the battle and free the planet from the Corellian Separatist hold -- you have no idea what he was making them do, Anakin. And I really doubt you want to know either."
"Go on."
"And even though we won the battle -- so many people died. People whose lives I was unable to save. Some of them were soldiers who willingly gave their lives for the cause, others were -- others were completely avoidable. I..."
If it were Padme or anyone else, Anakin would have placed a hand on their shoulder to let them know he was still there. But all he could say now was, "Daala...you really think you were to blame?"
"They said the same things your friends tell you now: that it wasn't my fault, that I did the best I could. Although there was the occasional...talk that I only got the position because I slept with my commanding officer to get it."
"But you're a brilliant commander!"
Daala chuckled. "You're far too kind. I do the best I can." Then she grew more somber. "I can't speak for the people who died on the Death Star -- I can only wonder if it could have ended differently. But those who died alongside you..." She gently placed a hand on Anakin's shoulder. "I have been there before, Anakin. I'm not merely saying this to console you -- I truly have. I've seen soldiers under my command die needlessly far too many times for my liking -- the Vong Wars, and even on the run from the Empire. In a perfect galaxy there wouldn't be any war -- there wouldn't be any need for anyone to die for us -- but here we are."
She seemed so vulnerable now -- so broken, the weight of so many years fighting against Caedus collapsing on her, that Anakin could now respond to his need to comfort her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she took it -- he couldn't help but feel pleased that his offer was accepted.
"We're going to make them proud, Daala," he said. "And that's a promise."
"Maybe." Daala seemed to return to her old self again -- that was good. "We'll see."
