He didn't care that he sat hunched on the floor, his back against the wall...how ironic...
It had been important once, he knew. It had seemed so important then that he held out. Now, he couldn't remember why.
Now he just sat slumped on the floor because it didn't matter.
Then get up. Stand up. Fight back.
There was a mental pause as he pulled together the concentration to think about gathering aching, trembling, starving, battered muscles to stand. But he didn't--what was the point? He would only be knocked down again.
He thought of an eternity like this, in this cell, with only Palpatine's goading manipulations pushing him ever downward, grating away his faltering resolve....
He had expected a quick end; to say no, and be killed. Not this--isolated and disarmed, Palpatine nipping and slicing away at him, barbed and bitter, ruthless and relentless, day after day after day.
Death of a thousand cuts.
The dull hiss of the heavy door releasing interrupted his train of thought as a guard entered the room. Surprised at the presence of the Emperor, the man bowed deeply--and Luke saw what was in his hand.
Glancing away immediately, eyes to the ground, Luke knew it was probably too late--the Sith doubtless already knew. He knew everything else--why should this be any different?
.
.
It crossed Palpatine's mind to wonder why he had been disturbed by the guard--then a split-second burst of emotion from his Jedi, instantly quashed, brushed a thin, cruel smile of realization across his lips, as he saw a new opportunity to test just how much control he could now exercise over the boy's waning resolve.
"Set it down here," Palpatine said easily as he walked to the chair that had been placed for him and settled, watching his Jedi closely, unable to keep the delight of anticipation from his voice.
The boy stared at the floor before him, making a conscious effort not to look up.
The guard crouched to set the glass down on the floor at Palpatine's foot, then lifted the stopper from the metal flask to pour water into it. A pure, clear note sounded as the water hit and swirled around.
The boy glanced momentarily, unable to stop himself, then looked quickly down again as the guard rose and turned, lifting the heavy metal water bowl from the floor nearby, and bowing again before he left.
Palpatine said nothing for a long time, savoring the desperate desire which raged through the boy in sharp contrast to the calm, controlled mask of his expression.
He had thought to underline Mara's abandonment, but this was far better This was an opportunity to see not only what resistance the boy still had left, but also how much he had begun to listen to his new Master. What he would accept without dispute, and what he still had the presence of mind to question.
So he waited, watching, letting the silence hang heavy, giving his Jedi time to realize the game afoot. When he was quite sure that he knew, he began...
"Are you thirsty, Jedi?"
.
.
Left unconscious save in Palpatine's presence, without food or water for many days, Luke knew he was on the edge. Food he could do without, but water he needed desperately in his present state, his cramping muscles and spinning head a constant reminder of just how critical he was.
The Emperor let the silence stretch out as Luke stared resolutely at the floor, when every fiber of his being was focused on the glass of water as he rocked forwards and backwards a few times almost imperceptibly, his jaw clenched shut.
"If you are thirsty, then take the water," Palpatine offered, almost gently.
Luke tried so hard, but was unable to stop his gaze from pulling slowly, reluctantly, back to the water, though he didn't move. Instead he just watched in silence as condensation ran down the outside of the glass to pool at its base, shimmering in the harsh lights. Watched as tiny reflections which darted about the water's rippling surface slowly stilled, magnifying refracted pools of light onto the floor about it. Watched as the last small bubbles of air clinging to the inside of the glass floated dizzily to the surface. He was absolutely, painfully aware of how parched his mouth was, of the cracks in his lips, of his throat so dry that it hurt simply to talk. His whole body was attuned to the water in that glass, crying out for the relief which was right there in front of him.
For several seconds he sat still, dizzy with indecision.
He had to drink; he had to have water. He was shaking from dehydration, his muscles cramped, his head throbbed. He was long past thirst, and a life in the desert had taught him what that meant.
He needed water.
But he hesitated, knowing that there would be a cost, as there was with everything now, waiting to see what the Emperor wanted.
Slowly, deliberately, the glass slid towards him, singing with vibration over the scuffed, white floor.
.
.
Using the Force, Palpatine slid the glass to a halt at a central point between them and waited, relishing the struggle taking place before him.
Three times his Jedi's fingers twitched as he nearly reached out for the glass but stopped himself before finally, hesitantly, knowing he was being played but knowing also that he couldn't do otherwise, he reached forward. Palpatine smiled, gratified. "But understand that if you do, there will be a price."
The boy paused without looking up, a weary, wary expression on his face.
"What price?" His hoarse voice was low and quiet and resigned.
Palpatine offered nothing more, but instead rose and walked slowly round to the back of his Jedi, immeasurably pleased that the boy was not outraged or angry or even surprised that Palpatine had stopped him. Nor did he even think to question the fact that he had stopped, or that there would be a price associated with this most basic human necessity. He wished only to know the cost.
He crouched down behind the boy, and was rewarded by feeling his body tense as he rested his hands to the grazed, open wounds on the boy's shoulders and leaned in close to whisper, "Kneel."
So close to him, in direct physical contact, Palpatine felt the shock of outrage ripple through him, a heady burst of rage and revulsion.
Skywalker made to turn, but Palpatine took his head from behind in both hands, forcing him to turn back to the glass. "Look! Don't lose sight of what you want--what you need to survive. What you want is everything; how you get it is nothing. I ask such a small thing. The only thing which is stopping you is your own arrogant pride. Such a--"
"NO!" Skywalker twisted free by pulling forward, so weak that he had to catch his weight with the flats of his bruised hands against the floor, wrenching his broken arm back as it made contact, making him yell out.
"Yes," Palpatine sneered, rising to walk away from the hunched man. "This is so much more dignified."
The boy stayed down, his head hung low, one hand to the floor, his injured arm clutched to him, chest heaving.
Palpatine sat again, his black cloak billowing out about him. "Look at yourself. You're no more than an empty shell. A few ragged memories of the man you were. You're nothing."
Still the boy did not raise his head, did not deny the words thrown against him. Palpatine leaned forward and bit out the accusation again with absolute malice, "You're nothing."
"Then kill me." The voice was very small, barbed by thirst, barely a whisper.
Palpatine laughed maliciously and leaned back again, his composure reinstated. "I told you, I will never do that. No matter what I do to you, I will always rebuild you and do it again...and again. You belong to me."
"Then give me the water."
"You may have it. You have only to kneel."
His Jedi looked again at the water; Palpatine reached out with the Force and made the glass shake just slightly, to clarify that he would simply overturn it if the boy reached for it without his permission, and his Jedi looked down again, to the side, to his battered hands, anywhere but at the glass. And Palpatine knew that he was completely lost. "This fight is over, my friend." He reached out with the Force to brush the boy's mind so benignly. "You know it as well as I do. Let it go; do as I ask."