Hey everyone. This is probably just going to be a small short story because this plot bunny was sitting in my head for a while now and I felt like I needed to write it. Of course, I will still be updating Last Spark, so don't worry, I haven't given up on it. Anyways, enjoy, and please leave a review.
PART ONE
FOR PERHAPS NOT ALL IS LOST
CHAPTER I
Hiraeth
homesickness for a home you can never return to, or that never was.
or: Darth Vader cries for what will never be
Darth Vader had always told himself he was above crying. He was a man who rarely showed emotion, who tried to conceal it. He was a Sith Lord, he was above all of this, nonsense. Even as Anakin, he had never cried. Well, he liked to say never, but that wasn't quite true…
On that day, some of Anakin shone through.
He was sat in his meditation chamber when her name had wafted through his very soul, and he lost it.
It had been weeks, years, since he had dared let himself embrace her memory. It haunted him, every day, every hour, every minute, but he had never embraced it. He had tried to push her and her memory back, back into the deep recesses of his deep, dark mind.
He didn't want to remember.
He didn't want to miss her.
But he did. Oh, so very much.
And that day, he let himself, for trying to stop the onslaught would be like trying to stop breathing, but he wasn't breathing, not really, that was the suit—
No, that wasn't the point.
Her memory burned his mind, reminded him of his failure, failure, failure— failure to save her, to save their child, to save anything.
He had lost so much.
Hot tears seemed to burn his face as they flowed down, gravity taking effect.
Memories sped through his head at a hundred miles an hour…
Two youths, lying in the tall grass. A shining sun, reflecting off the girl's hair. The boy, grinning at her madly. Rolling in the fields, riding tall beasts—
The same youths, smiles plastered on their faces, the girl's dress shimmering and shining brighter than a thousand suns, the boy, the boy's eyes shining about as much as the girl's dress, filled with love, with never-ending joy—
Hurt. Vader felt the pain. Why were these memories haunting him now? Why? Hadn't he suffered enough? They had stayed silent all these years, pushed away into a corner so he would never have to lay his mind upon them again because it hurt, it hurt so much. But he was a Sith, it wasn't supposed to hurt. So why did it?
He was about to get up and leave the chamber, to ignore these painful images, but there was more. His mind held him hostage as scenes flitted through his mind's eye, scenes that never were, and that could never be, for it was his fault—
A med-centre room, white walls. The woman is laying on the bed, her smile like a diamond, holding two infants. The man, gently caressing the heads of his children.
"Luke," she whispers, as if not to wake the two babies. The man smiles even brighter.
"Leia," he says gently, letting a finger run down one of the infant's tiny faces.
The woman smiles at him, and he looks at her lovingly, and then they both look at the sleeping children, their children, their happiness. The joyful feeling of the room shining bright, so bright, too bright—
The woman is laughing, watching a small toddler run around her legs. The man comes up behind her, chuckling. The face of the little girl in his arms is joyful. She claps her pudgy hands as she watches her brother. She hits her little palms on her father's chest, as if saying, "let me down!" and then he puts her down to run with her brother.
"Wuke!" She giggles, bringing about another round of laughter from the woman standing above her. The man lays a gentle arm around the woman's shoulders, pulling her into his embrace, laughing, smiling.
The woman looks up and grins at the man, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before bending down and pulling him with her to be on the twins' level. The man laughs as the children climb upon him, pulling at his brown tunic. They all look so, so happy, it hurt, it—
The two children dance about in a meadow. They laugh and run about, happy.
"Luke, Leia! Come along, it's time for lunch!"
The two run to their smiling parents, who had laid out a small collection of various sandwiches and fruit on a picnic blanket. They dig in, wanting to finish quickly, but the man shakes his head.
"You have to slow down," he says, looking at the two pointedly.
"But Papa," whines the boy between mouthfuls. The woman laughs at her son's antics.
"Listen to your father, Luke," she agrees.
The little girl finishes her sandwich while her parents are focused on Luke and starts to stand up when she feels her father wrap his long arms around her waist. She shrieks as he lifts her into the air.
"Come on, Leia. You know that you can't leave without saying thank you."
"Thank you, Ma, Papa," says the little girl, afterwards looking up at her father, asking with her eyes for him to put her down.
"That's my girl," he laughs, setting her onto the ground.
"Let's go, Luke!" She yells, grabbing her brother and taking off into the grass.
The man and the woman watch them run, leaning into each other, smiling, laughing—
The man bolts up in his bed, his eyes wild and filled with fear.
"No, no, no," he whispers. "No!"
His shout wakes up the other occupants of the airy house, and soon two little children run into the room, and the woman is awake too, embracing her husband as he cries.
"Papa?" Asks the little girl, while the boy is already climbing into the bed, wrapping his tiny arms around his father.
When Leia doesn't get a reply, she climbs up as well. The man is speechless, paralyzed with fear, his heart beating, breathing quick, and then…
"It's okay, shhhh," whispers the woman.
The man relaxes, slowly. He feels three pairs of arms around him, Three pairs of eyes, meeting his, their worry evident. He sighs and cracks a watery smile, wrapping his own arms around his family. His voice is quiet as he speaks, almost too quiet to hear, but…
"I love you. So, so much."
They hear, and they hold him tighter. Lying down, snuggling closer, the family falls asleep.
Finally, Vader is dragged out. He breaths as if he'd been drowning, and he realizes he has. The three words hang in the air as if the man had been in the same room, and perhaps he had, but what was it then? Why had he been shown these impossible scenes, these 'what ifs'?
And then he realized. Realized why he's crying, why it hurts, so, so much.
He was dreaming of home.
For that's what it was. He didn't belong here, he belonged with her, with his family. Home.
But it was too late. He'd ruined any small chance that they had of having a family. He'd ripped them apart, torn his heart open, let himself drown, their chance was gone, as were the people he loved. They were all long gone, dead.
Anakin was supposed to be dead too, but yet Vader felt. He longed for the home he could never have. He longed for the family in his dreams, he longed for his wife, for love. The tears flowed freely down upon his broken face, the guilt ate away at his heart, for he'd done this, it was his fault…
I'm sorry, Padmé. I'm so sorry.
A spark of light began to illuminate the inky darkness.