-prologue-
The roar of her ship's engine fills her ears, but in her mind, there is nothing but silence. C-3PO's joints whir quietly in their sockets, a light flashes on her dashboard, but her head is in her hands, palms pressed to her eyes in distress.
"Padmé…Anakin has turned to the Dark Side."
Wrong.
"Palpatine is the Sith lord we've been looking for."
Wrong again.
"After the death of Count Dooku, Anakin became his new apprentice."
Still wrong.
It was all wrong, a figment of her imagination, some twisted side effect of this pregnancy wreaking havoc on her mind. Her imagination was wrong, Obi-Wan was wrong, the stupid security holograms were wrong—Anakin couldn't have turned to the Dark Side. Not her Anakin. Not her Ani, not the sweet blue-eyed boy she found on Tattooine a thousand lifetimes ago. The Sith's apprentice couldn't be him.
The view through the windows becomes a deep, fiery red as the Mustafar lava shoots into the air. A tower looms above her, coal black against a backdrop of molten rock. A small, cloaked figure peeks out from behind the tower and starts running towards her ship.
The doors to her ship open and she runs into his arms. They are warm, solid—they feel like Anakin's arms. He holds her there for a long time, her chin nestled in the curve of his collarbone like it always does. Her breathing is ragged and shallow, heart beating fast against Anakin's ribs.
"I saw your ship," he murmurs, stroking the braids in her hair. His chin rests lightly on her forehead and one hand moves to the curve of her waist and hugs her tighter. "Why did you come? Why aren't you in Coruscant?"
"I—I…" her voice trembles and she shudders against Anakin's body despite the burning heat. "I was so worried about you, Ani."
Anakin exhales slightly, half laughing, half sighing. "I'm in no danger, Padmé." He closes his eyes and lets his waves of hair fall over her face.
She lifts her head to meet his eyes. The light from the lava makes his eyes look dark red and yellow, not the same blue ones she knows. "O-Obi-Wan…he told me terrible things, Anakin."
His eyes harden and he sets his hands on her shoulders, arm's length away. "What has he told you?"
"He—"
"No," he whispers, "don't tell me." He cups her face in his hands, bony fingers and calluses against her jawline. "He's trying to turn you against me, Padmé. Don't let him."
"Anakin, he wants to help us. He—he knows. About the baby."
"He knows?"
She nods. "Anakin…I don't care about any of this. I don't care about politics, or the Emperor. I care about you and me. Us."
"I know." His voice is soft and husky, the same voice that teased her in the fields on Naboo, the one that said, 'I do' a million years ago.
"You don't have to do this," she whispered, bringing one hand to his face and running it down the hollow of his cheek. "I don't want any of this—Anakin, all I want…all I want is your love."
"But love won't save you, Padmé," he insists, pulling away from her. "Don't you see? The Light Side cannot protect you from death, but the Dark Side can. I can't love you or protect you when I am a Jedi, and I'm tired of that, Padmé. I'm tired of being helpless, of losing the people I care about. I won't lose you. Not like I lost my mother. You, Padmé…you're all I have left. This," he gestures around him, to the lava and rock, "it's all for you. To protect you."
"I don't need you to protect me," she says. "Anakin, all I need is you. I won't die, Ani, I promise—just come away with me and I'll show you. Leave it all behind before it's too late. Come back to Naboo with me and help me raise our child, Anakin, it's the only way."
"No," he says softly, "it's not."
"What do you mean?"
"The Empire is a good place, Padmé. I can love you here, not in the Republic. I can love you; I can protect you. Don't you remember the fields in Naboo so long ago? Don't you remember what we talked about? I…I have created that world here. The people will never suffer again. Not while I am in power." His eyes gleam in the light as they look down upon her.
She looks at him helplessly, unable to process what she hears. "You're not the same anymore, Ani."
"But I am," he says. He brings his hand to caress her face. "I am, Padmé. I still love you. I still want you to be safe. What has changed?"
"Obi-Wan…he said you killed people. Innocents. Younglings, Anakin. That's not what you would do."
"They weren't innocents, Padmé," Anakin insists gently, "they had to be stopped. And I never killed younglings. These are Obi-Wan's lies to you, can't you see? He's lying. He doesn't care about us, just his precious Republic. Don't you trust me?"
A roar of lava.
"Don't you?"
"Anakin..."
He studies her face with cold eyes. "You don't." He paces, agitated, fiddling with the hilt of his lightsaber. "Do you love me?"
"Of course I do!"
"So come with me," he pleads, hungry light in his eyes. "Join me. I can save you, I can make you the queen of the galaxy; I can make you immortal, Padmé. Our child will never have to suffer and neither will you. I'm done with being in pain." He brushes a strand of hair away from her face. "If you love me, join me."
She bites her lip and turns away from him. "Ani..."
"You love me, don't you, Padmé?" His voice is so soft, so gentle, so familiar. The way he tilts her chin up with the tips of his fingers brings back waves of nostalgia for fields and marble courtyards. "I can give you everything. You and I...we could do great things."
Her lips part, but no sound comes from them. "I..."
He's not the same.
Do what is best for the greater good, Padmé.
You are in love with a murderer, a Sith lord.
"Please," Anakin whispers, his face mere centimeters away from hers, his nose brushing against hers. "I don't care about anything else. I don't care about the Emperor, or the Empire. You're all I have left to care about, Padmé. Come with me." He holds her cold hands in his warm ones, the metal of his mechanical hand clinking as he presses her hand to his chest.
I love him.
But I can't do this.
But I love him.
She looks behind her, at her ship, at her people, at her loyalties. I am abandoning all this.
"Come with me, Padmé."
Her mind is screaming, crying for her to say no, to run back onto her ship and go back to Coruscant. Because she has a duty to the people, and she knows she can't abandon millions because of her own selfish desires. She cannot desert those who have given so much to her, to those who she has served for eighteen years. She cannot leave an entire galaxy for one person.
"Okay."
fin.
[edited once as of 12/30/15]
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