The supports were cut and Kenobi, battered from the duel, could not react in time. Large segments of the roofing fell down, shattering against the walkway and its remaining supports. The platform beneath their feet shook, but Vader was prepared for it. He leaned back and grasped the wire while Kenobi tumbled. Durasteel twisted with a screeching whine before falling away at an angle that caused the Jedi to spill from it, falling in a tumble to the slanting rock cliffs about twenty meters below. Vader could tell from the way Kenobi fell that he'd broken several bones upon landing. His former Jedi Master struggled against the incline but stumbled as rock outcroppings broke and fragmented and sent him slipping further down the cliff face, perilously close to the river of lava.

He turned from the scene and, after searching for a way to seal off his advantage, used his lightsaber to cut away the last support holding up another two tone segment of suspended walkway. He reached out with the Force and launched it at Kenobi. The Jedi master saw it and managed to dodge it, but the segment hit the lava bank and sent a huge splash of molten rock, a fiery spray coated Kenobi and set him on fire.

Darth Vader watched the immolation with dampened enthusiasm. He had no time to celebrate this victory, however sweet it may have been. Even Kenobi's screams of pain and anguish couldn't get a rise from him. It was done. The obstacle was removed from his path and now he had to turn to the siren he felt blaring through the Force. That was all.

Padmé!

Vader turned and ran back up the walkway, back across the bridge of the mining station, through the control room where he'd slaughtered the separatist leaders and back to the landing platform where Padmé lay. He stopped when he came upon the scene, taken aback by just how horrible it looked. Had he really done this? His shoulders slackened and the anger that had filled him with such terrible power began to subside.

Force. Force, he had.

But he did it for a reason, didn't he? She'd brought Obi-Wan here. And Obi-Wan had tried to kill him.

Or did she? No, no, she didn't. Why would she? Obi-Wan could've stowed aboard the ship, used some Force technique to hide his presence from her. If he had found out about them, then he could have anticipated where she was going. Yes, yes, that made more sense, now that he was thinking of it. That had to be the truth.

Then why did he do this? He remembered just seeing Obi-Wan walk out from the ship and reacting. Jumping to a conclusion. It made no sense now, so how could it have made sense then? Padmé wouldn't betray him like that. How could he believe that? Even think it? Padmé loved him! Her words and her actions were clear and unequivocal. She came here to check up on him, to make sure that he was alright, for Force's sake!

Obi-Wan just used her. Manipulated her, then deceived her, as he and his fellow Jedi had deceived so many others. The kriffing bastard. Vader wished he could kill him again.

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly while withdrawing from the Force. The adrenalin began to subside and his body started to feel the exhaustion of the tremendous fight he'd just had with Kenobi. He'd jumped to a conclusion and made a mistake. He wiped three finger's worth of sweat from his forehead. His anger made him mighty but it could steer him so wrong at times.

He wanted to kneel at Padmé's side and make this right. He wanted to brush away strands of hair from her face and kiss her on the forehead. Once she was awake, he would tell her how sorry he was, how mistaken he was and that he would never do that again. It would be alright. She would never be in danger again. Obi-Wan, the last person that could ever hurt them-that could ever hurt their baby, take their baby away-was burning to death less than a kilometer away. The Jedi Order had been swept away. Peace had been restored to the galaxy. And he'd done it for her-he'd done it all for her.

Then he caressed her cheek and recoiled at how cold it felt. His eyes went wide and the adrenalin started to spike through his system again. He put a finger under her nose. She wasn't breathing. He rolled her on her back and put two fingers on the side of her neck. There was no pulse.

His reaction was so stark that it could have been a real, physical response, perhaps to a toxin in his gut. That's what it felt like. It was every fear, every nervous thought, every anxiety he'd ever had, congealed into a knot that folded his stomach on itself. His heart jumped into his throat and he was suddenly aware of just how rapidly it was beating.

Then the first aid training kicked in. She had to breathe. Her heart had to beat. She had to! She couldn't be too far gone, she couldn't! He pressed his mouth to hers and gave her two breaths before setting his hands over her chest.

Oh Force, Padmé, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!

He did the compressions. It took a considerable mental effort to keep his his shoulders square and his shaking arms steady.

I didn't mean it! I was stupid, so, so stupid! Come back to me!

He gave her two more breaths, then did another thirty compressions. There was no response. No improvement. No flicker in the Force to inform him of his progress. In fact, there was no feeling from the Force at all, just a silence, a stillness that covered him with goosebumps. Never mind the fire and the lava; he could have been on Hoth that moment and not known the difference.

He started shaking his head after he finished the third set of compressions and was aware of the tears dripping down his face. Some of them fell upon his arms. A few dripped on her face.

"Padmé, Padmé, please!" He groaned to her, pressing his forehead against hers while he begged, even though he knew, deep down within that he didn't have a right to. This was his wife. The woman he had loved since he first laid eyes upon her, thirteen years ago. The mother of his children.

Oh kriff. The children. Were they alright? How could they be? How? They weren't even born yet and their mother was dead. How could they survive? They would suffocate, just like he'd suffocated her. The true consequences of what he'd done-which had seemed so distant and so trivial before he realized that she had died-dawned upon him. He Force Choked her, all upon a jump to conclusions. He Force Choked her.

"Come back to me, Padmé," he sobbed. "Please!"

He was holding her in his arms now, bent over and sobbing into her shoulder. He'd done it. He'd killed her. It was his fault and he couldn't-he couldn't take it back. Worse, the only person he could blame-the only person that had any reason to cause him to jump to that conclusion and strangle her-was already dead. Obi-Wan was burned to death. And no amount of punishment Vader further inflicted upon that wretch could change this horrible, numbing outcome.

"Lord Vader."

He looked up from his dead wife. If it was any other time, if he was in any other state of mind, he would have went for his lightsaber. He didn't know who this person was but he didn't sense them through the Force which told him immediately that they could be a threat to his person, perhaps even to his life. But he didn't as though his life was particularly valuable at that moment. If, somehow, Kenobi had survived, he wasn't even sure if he would try to defend himself from his wrath.

He would take whatever he deserved.

But the person that stood before him was someone he'd never seen before. A thin, lanky Muun, shrouded in a garb similar to the black robes Palpatine had donned after throwing Mace Windu from the window with Force Lightning. The hood he wore hid the entirety of his face, with the exception of a narrow mouth that seemed to be permanently set in slight downward frown.

"Who are you?" Vader asked as he felt ripples in the Force. The figure walked towards and seemed almost seemed incorporeal. The pigments of his robe shimmered with the slightest hint of red.

"I am Darth Plagueis."

Vader's eyes turned to saucers. "...you...you save people from dying, don't you?"

"I've returned to aid you, young one." The Dark Lord knelt at his side and placed a faintly glowing hand upon Padmé's swollen womb. "The children must be taken care of. There isn't much time. Your legacy-our legacy is in peril."

Vader didn't hear a single thing that Plagueis had said. "You have to bring her back."

Plagueis turned to him. "Lord Vader, you are the chosen one. Your children are the future of our kind, the dark ones-"

"Save her! I beg you, My Lord Plagueis, please! You have to save Padmé!"

"Your children can be retrieved now." He sounded annoyed. "But what you ask for is different. It is no small task. There could be difficulties. There could be complications."

Vader shook his head. "I don't care!"

"There are costs."

"I'll pay them." His face was turning red. "I'll do anything!"

"The Force exists upon a balance, one that even you and I cannot completely negate." Plagueis straightened to an imposing height. For the first time, Vader seemed to realize just how he was dealing with. This was Palpatine's master, who had likely been Dark Lord of the Sith for longer than Vader had ever lived. "The price of life is life. Do you understand?"

"Do whatever you have to," Vader said. "Just bring her back, please."

The Muun looked at him balefully and Vader saw a glimmer of the Sith Lord's ochre eyes beneath that hooded cloak. "As you wish, young one."

Plagueis laid his hand on Padme's forehead and Vader felt the Force flow considerably. There was a struggle, a flurry of moments, tiny kicks and punches and squirms that twisted and tensed and slowly began to weaken. Vader saw ripples moving in Padmé's clothing, around the area of her womb. The children were struggling, responding to the undulating flow of the Force and the tremendous darkness that overwhelmed it.

The lifetime of Jedi training he had to fall back upon told him to panic. The darkness was bad and now it surrounded his children, seemed to swallow them whole, as it fixed upon his wife's body. But he dismissed those fears, allayed those doubts, by telling himself that this was necessary. He was a Sith now and darkness was his way. It was the way he would protect his children and his wife. It was the way he would get them back.

Padmé gasped, then jerked up, eyes wide and face contorted with what he could only describe as utter panic.

"Padmé?"

"Anakin!" She reached for his hand, and squeezed it with a desperation that sent static up his spine. She looked upon him with eyes that weren't quite hers. Instead of the soft brown that had smiled upon him and laughed with him and longed for him, he saw a sulfurous yellow that made him balk, almost draw back. And he felt something move within her, a power so great that it could be akin to the Force itself re-aligning itself.

"It is done," Plagueis said. Vader and Padmé looked up at him, then looked everywhere trying to find him. He had disappeared into thin air.

"Who...who was that, Anakin?" Padmé asked as leaned into the crook of his shoulder.

He blinked several times. "It was..." His voice trailed off and he just held her and stroked her hair gently. "I think that was my true master."

She looked at him, expecting more answers but he just kissed her.

"I love you, Padmé," he whispered. "I love you so much, and I'm so, so sorry. I'll never...I swear, I'll never hurt you again."

She tilted her head, confused. Her eyes had returned to their normal color. "Hurt me?"

"I..." Did she truly not remember? "I failed you. I lost control. Allowed you to be hurt. Obi-Wan-"

Padmé frowned. "Yes, Obi-Wan. He stowed aboard my ship. He was looking for you. What happened?"

"I fought him. I killed him."

He expected shock, or horror or disbelief. Instead, he felt nothing from her. She was a void that unnerved him to the point that he had to wonder exactly what Plagueis had meant earlier by...costs. "That's terrible, Anakin," she said, finally. Then he felt the sadness in her. "You couldn't have had a choice."

He looked at the bulge of her stomach. "I didn't."

"Can we leave here, then?" Padmé asked as she put a hand on her belly. "They'll be born soon. I don't want them to be born here. Can we go home to Naboo?"

Vader tried his best to force a smile. "Of course."