A/N: Just a short little one-shot that has been bouncing around my head for a while. I'm not an expert in the whole Star Wars Saga, so if I've offended anyone, my apologies in advance. Also, I didn't spend a ton of time on this piece, so if you spot any mistakes or places where improvements could be made, feel free to point them out.

Disclaimer: Star Wars and its characters belong to the genius that is George Lucas.

Vader was sure this was a nightmare – an impossibility that could never, would never happen.

He vaguely remembered some sort of an accident in which he had been caught unawares by the force (something so outlandish in itself that it seemed unlikely) and that he had been rushed to the sick bay on his ship.

Let's see, Vader thought, there had been a malfunction that absolutely needed his superior attention, and he had gone to fix the problem. Simple. Easy. So why was he staring at his leather-clad hands in growing horror?

The main problem was that instead of his normal gloves, some imbecile (a soon to be dead one, at that) had replaced them with mittens.

Mittens.

Mittens did not strike fear or horror in the minds of the grunts doing the labor – it did not inspire a coil of animalistic terror in the guts of the rebel alliance. If anything, it would elicit a chuckle the next time he raised his arm to "force choke" someone for their disobedience or defiance.

Children wore mittens, not galactic ruling, legendary sith lords.

Irritably, Vader propped himself up on the bed with his – he grimaced – mittens, before calling over a silver droid unit so similar to C3PO he had made so long ago.

"Why do I have singular-finger units on my hands?" he inquired in between his evenly spaced respirator breaths. Even if he wanted to huff, it wouldn't have been possible, and now he didn't have gloves as well…

"Master Vader, in the accident on deck C4 in room 66-"

"Yes, I know where it happened, just tell me why such a… lapse in judgment was shown in the healing process."

"Well, in the accident, you received major circuit damage that controlled the finer motor functions in addition to burning away much of what was left of your natural flesh. Upon contacting the Emperor for details on how to handle the situation, it was thought that these replacements would do until further notice and that they would serve as a 'lesson in humility.'"

So his master thought that he was becoming too comfortable with the amount of power he controlled… Vader's clenched his fist. No matter. This little "lesson" would be corrected upon arrival on Couresant.

Until then, he needed a good name for these abominations. No longer could it be what he referred to fondly as "Macbeth's gauntlet of death" or the "anti-peace and dove glove".

No, now it would need a new name. At least temporarily, just for his peace of mind. If any of the insubordinates even suspected where Vader's thoughts occasionally ran, they would not be so quick to jump and obey his every word.

Sometimes it was nice being a feared tyrant.

So, names. However, as Vader pondered over the subject, the best he could think of was the "smitten kitten mittens". Images of love struck tabbies batting wool mittens popped into the sith's mind, and inwardly he scowled. Perhaps something better would arise later.

In the meantime, however, he had a ship to run. He could just see now someone foolishly crashing the star-destroyer into a wayward asteroid or mistakenly allowing a rebel in disguise aboard his ship.

After these thoughts crossed his mind, scenes of him dropping his lightsaber in the midst of battle or being unable to perform adequately in carefully crossing wires of computers and circuit boards quickly followed.

No, he could sit in bed for a few moments longer.

Two hours later (and being unable to lace his fingers together so that he could twiddle his thumbs – not that he ever would do such a thing) and Vader had just about had it.

At that moment, a door opened and a commander in a smart grey uniform stalked in with a confident swagger. He carried a data pad, obviously to be signed (another thing he couldn't do with his normal flourish, he mentally added), but paused upon seeing Vader's black leather clad body propped up upon the white linens.

His eyes were decidedly fixed on Vader's hands, and his face was struggling to show no expression.

Immediately taking the opportunity presented to him, Vader raised the mitten that would cause the "surprise demise" of the foolish man. Immediately he was raised a few inches above the ground, and was grasping desperately at the invisible force holding him by the neck and slowly choking him to death.

After the man had slumped to the floor, dead, Vader thought to himself with dark glee: Yeah, he still had it.

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