Forgotten

Summary: At the Battle of Yavin, the Rebels captured a very important prisoner. But he has lost his memory...

May you never forget what is worth remembering, nor ever remember what is best forgotten – Irish blessing

A/N: I'm no medical expert, so I hope you'll forgive any mistakes.

Prologue: Subject

"Commander, neural scans reveal severe damage to the prisoner's memory centres."

Mon Mothma stared through the observation window with a frown. Vader lay motionless on a cot. The large, black-sheathed limbs were fastened down. Mon worried that it would not be enough to combat the Sith's use of the Force.

The fearsome mask and helmet had been removed, replaced with an external respirator. The deathly-white face was such a contrast to the black skull the galaxy knew.

Looking at him now, Mon was struck by just how weak and pitiful Vader seemed. The medics' examinations had revealed all four limbs were prosthetics. His entire body was a mass of burn scars.

Not to mention the lungs that hadn't worked in decades, and never would again.

"How severe? How much will he remember?"

"Unknown. Thorough questioning must be conducted when the subject awakes."

Mon hesitated. Despite Vader's physical weakness, she was hesitant to revive him from the drug-induced sleep he lay in. This prisoner didn't need physical abilities to wreak havoc. The power of his mind – his power in the Force – was phenomenal.

Finally, she nodded. "I will authorise waking him. But," she cautioned, holding up an admonitory finger, "you must have a sedative ready. And I must be present. At the slightest sign of danger, I want him unconscious."

"Acknowledged, Commander."

Chapter One: Awakening

I can't move.

What happened?

He stretched out mentally, trying to feel the damage to his body. Sensations began to filter slowly into his mind.

I can't feel my legs. Or my arms. What happened?

There was pressure on his face. Dimly, he registered a strange wheezing hiss that reminded him of –

Breathing? Am I on a respirator?

What happened?

He dared to open his eyes, and quickly closed them against the blinding light. It was so bright! When next he looked, the lamp had been pointed away from his face. If he squinted, he could begin to make out figures around him.

I'm in an infirmary.

There was a team of droids, as well as a forbidding short-haired woman. She was clad in white, but looked like no medic he'd ever seen.

She stepped closer to his bed.

Is she afraid? Why?

Crisply, she asked, "Do you remember who you are?"

He blinked in surprise. "Wha-" his voice came out as a hoarse croak, as if it hadn't been used in a long time.

How badly was I injured?

Obviously pretty badly, if they're asking what I remember.

"Your name. Do you remember your name?" she asked. There was no sign of fear in her now - I must have imagined it - only impatience.

He swallowed dryly, trying to get control of his voice. It didn't help. He summoned up his strength to croak out an answer.

"Ani- Anakin Skywalker."