Disclaimer: Star Wars and all associated characters, plotlines, and worlds (good and bad) are property and copyright © of George Lucas (aka The Richest Man in Hollywood). This is purely for fan entertainment only.

Chapter 1

It was your continued strength, the way you did not flinch or pause, as to why I lingered in the room, why I let them keep you in that interrogation room. Your pride remained in tact the entire time, even as you were nearly naked, only a filthy simple robe adorning you, your hair chopped off in a short bob. Why did they have to cut your hair?

At one point in my life, the sight of your skin would have brought desire. But now, you are merely another one of the mindless slaves, brought here to quell any whisper of a rebellion. You cannot threaten my security, my peace.

My fingers curled as I refrained myself from touching your face, trying to find within you what I had once loved. My angel. But there was nothing of your grimy exterior or your cold eyes that could even remind me of the woman I once loved. Still love.

You did not answer me, even then. You held your jaw firm, proud as ever. What did you do with her? Where is my Padmé? But you had no answer to my question, either you didn't know or you wouldn't tell me. The dead can't reveal themselves; it was your duty to let me know my Padmé was dead.

But yet I could not leave, could not tear myself away from the display, from your eyes. They had trapped mine, even behind the mask, behind the helmet. I thought you could see the truth, see within to my very soul. My heart constricted painfully as I realized you would know who I am, truly who I was asking for.

My mind raced, wondering how you could know it was me within the mask, that my questions were not just more questions thrown at your already overwhelmed and overtired brain.

But I steeled myself- you had not yet revealed your hand, I would not reveal mine. You must not know that I was once yours. I held my breath, then let one thought form in my head: Anakin Skywalker is dead. So easy to think it, so easy to hope it. I could laugh at myself now- to hope that hope is dead.

Anger coursed through me, anger that you would not respond to my query, that you would not show emotion. How could you? When did you grow so cold? I squeezed my fingers into tight balls, clenching them at my side. I knew it would be formidable, that I would intimidate you in the black suit.

Yet you did not shirk.

That cannot be; you have to know my pain.

I knew of one way.

"Padmé…" I began, letting the breath drag out, knowing the voice amplifier would pick up on the sound of my breathing. "Tell me of Anakin." I felt ridiculous in saying my own name aloud, and at the same time the name sounded foreign, already not my own. But you knew me by my new name, knew me as Darth Vader.

This finally brought pain to your eyes, tears pricking in the corners. A-ha! You still care. How easy this could be… I watched as you drew yourself to a sitting position, spat at my feet. "How dare you?" you hissed.

I should have laughed. I should have crowed with delight, flaunt how I killed your pathetic Anakin. Only it was a lie.

You gathered yourself, your anger still glowing in your face. You glared at me; all your rage centered on me for the first time since I had last saw you. How good it must feel. "You monster." Your words snaked through my brain, ate at my heart. Again, I gave homage to my shield from you, my mask.

"You have it wrong." I corrected, as close to a matter-of-fact as I could manage. I gathered my own pride, wrapped my anger about me like my cloak. I would tell you the truth- and it would sting. I would give you the details, let them burn like salt in your wounds. I did not speak, there was no need to.

I raised my gloved hands to my head, holding them steady as only a skilled Jedi could under such duress, unscrewing the bolts of the helmet closely. Finally, it was ready to be removed. I slid it away from my chin, letting my hair fall out of the helmet and relishing the cool air against my cheeks, against my burning eyes. The chill could take away the tears you were not to see.

I revealed the truth, revealed my identity and saw at once the anger flare and the grief instantly wash away. Shock lined your pretty face, your gasp echoed throughout the room. "I thought you killed him." You whispered, conflict marring your calm exterior.

Now you too have to question, now you too have to live with the reality instead of some pretty painted lies.

My voice remained calm, aloof, "You need to quit believing everything Obi-Wan tells you." I would later learn that it was the same lie he told my son. Too convenient, to warp the truth. What had he hoped to accomplish by telling you Anakin was dead? It became self evident to me- he wanted me out of the picture for you.

Your tears were falling freely now, uninhibited, sobs wracking your body. It had been too easy. But revenge did not taste sweet. In fact, it was downright bitter. Damn you! How could you take away that, too?

You turned your eyes towards mine and I felt the familiar burning once more. I turned away, not letting you see their inevitable fall. I gestured to the guards at the door, pointing for them to take you back to your cell. I did not let you see as my hands shook as I replaced the helmet, seeking anonymity behind it.

You were not to see my eyes spill over with tears, my weaknesses exposed once more for everyone to see. While I retained Anakin Skywalker's eyes, nose, jaw, hair, every aspect of his face, he was dead. Keep telling yourself that.

I did, however, take your name off the execution list.

Just snippets for now, while it grows. And while it will be explained further in detail later, while Anakin has obviously fallen, he does not wear the suit for physical necessity. We'll leave it at that for now. ;)