Chapter 1

His lips left hers an instant later. She pressed herself still closer, curls caressing his face soothingly, warmth washing over him through her body. Hands buried inside his hair almost frantically as she pulled away, searching his face.

"Anakin…" she breathed, "I've been so, so worried…" She stammered.

The accent in her voice was true; she was shaking with fear.

"I'm fine, my love."

The words sounded hollow even to his ears. They were everything his earlier words, then, behind that pillar, were not. He sounded comforting, almost lethargic in his happiness but it was a lie.

She seemed to sense it for she smoothed the sides of his face between her warm palms. It failed to provide the comfort it once brought him. Her embrace was shallow and cold where it was once warm and soothing.

"Are you hurt?"

Her brown eyes searched his and he smiled. The smile didn't reach his eyes though.

"I'm all right. The war is over. Everything will be all right."

The comforting, soft tone of his voice made her shiver and she frowned. He never again wanted to see her beautiful face marred by a frown. He would see to whatever was troubling her. She would get everything. This world, the galaxy, the whole Universe if needed to be.

Everything.

He would see to it.

"The Separatists leaders are all dead. The Holonet proclaimed it earlier today." She whispered in the darkness.

But in her voice, there was no contentment or gratitude.

There was fear and mistrust. She was hiding something; he could see it in her eyes. Something treacherous, something she would not tell him.

Was she betraying him too? Would she turn her back to him like the Jedi did? Like Palpatine himself did?

She knew he was the one responsible for this and she did not like it.

"Yes, they are." The glove reached her cheek and caressed it, in a mockery of what his former self used to do with his real hand. "We're at peace, at last."

Padmé frowned further, and though she did not move an inch, he felt her retreat from him. The thought left him even colder than he already was.

"Palpatine proclaimed the Empire as well."

Her voice was cold, her eyes accusing. He felt himself lose patience.

"I know. Only the Empire will bring peace. But it won't last long, you will see. Soon enough, Palpatine won't be here to rule us."

Once I know how to save you, I will kill him with my bare hands.

But his smile didn't seem to convince her. She took a step away from him, arms reaching around herself as if she felt cold.

There was something else, something else troubling her.

Cold fear wrapped around his heart as her brown eyes seemed to pierce through him. He felt like she knew every single one of his dirty secrets. She knew what he had done; she knew who he was now, what he was and the thought left him shaking with terror.

Padmé would not understand, would never see his way, would never accept him as easily as she did after the Tusken massacre. And something was stopping her from fully trusting him. A gap was tearing them apart at every minute that passed. He could feel it. She was about to speak and he sensed that what she would say would break everything. It would break the relative peace in this silent dark room. It would break the sanctuary he had come back to.

Suddenly, the coldness around his heart receded, leaving him empty and exhausted.

"Ani, Obi-Wan-"

He cut her off, raising a gloved finger towards her.

"I don't want to hear about it, Padmé. Please, not tonight."

He didn't want to know what happened to Obi-Wan. He didn't want to know if he was alive or dead, if he would have to face him or kill him. He was tired, so tired and he didn't want to think of his choice and all it entailed anymore.

Did she sense the change within him? He didn't know. Yet she came closer, nodding slightly, small hands depriving him of his cloak soundlessly. The dark material fell at his feet and he let her undress him. The lightsaber fell down with a loud thump and he sighed deeply, pulling her closer to him and breathing into her hair. Hands divested him of layers of clothes but he stopped her when she pulled at his undershirt. Somehow she had seen the burns on his tunic, burns from Mustafar, burns from lightsabers as some Jedi vainly tried to reach him in their final moments. He had felt the small burns on his chest and didn't think much of it. But for a reason unknown to him, he didn't want her to see this. She moved closer, lips trailing on the skin of his throat, hands caressing him lower and he shut his eyes tightly, almost drowning into her. He wanted to bury himself inside of her to forget, so she could purify him somehow. But as his lips traced the outline of her neck, she pulled away slightly.

Her fingertips traced his face in the darkness.

"Shower?" she whispered.

He frowned and spotted the trace of dirt on her fingertips. He realized abruptly that Mustafar and the Jedi temple smoke had clung to him for days. He was dirty from head to toe.

He felt dirty.

She didn't await a response, taking his live hand in hers and pulling him towards the bathroom. He stopped in the middle of the room, his hand closing over hers painfully. She whirled around, eyebrow arched in confusion.

"Rest." He whispered, gesturing towards the bed. "I won't be long."

He strode towards the bathroom, the electronic door closing behind him with a hiss. The light came on automatically and he blinked at the sudden change of lightening. He sensed her confusion through the Force but she soon settled to wait for him, outside the door. Removing his boots and clothes wearily, he was about to reach the shower when something stopped him. He caught his reflection in the grand mirror above the elegant sink and he stopped in his tracks.

The burns on his chest were already healing, the scars from previous battles barely visible on the tanned skin.

His face looked dead.

Blue empty eyes looked back at him. He came closer, locking his eyes on the face of the murderer in front of him.

The murderer snarled and eyed him coldly, jaw clenched. There was hatred in his eyes, blue flashing dangerously. A tiny voice whispered in the confines of his mind. Is it the way you looked when you killed all these- innocent- people?

The voice pounded relentlessly inside his skull.

What have you done?
What have you done?
What have you done?!

His fist clenched, golden metal rising to smash the image in the mirror.

The reflection changed, the face twisting in despair. Hot tears streamed down the dirty cheeks of the murderer. He felt the hot liquid on his own skin and closed his eyes instantly. He turned his back to the mirror and opened blurry eyes to slide under the shower.

The water was hot and calm on his skin. It rained on his body calmly, washing the dirt –and shame- off of him. He sighed, a hand passing in his wet hair, before pressing two hands on the cold wall in front of him, clenching his teeth to avoid the ache in his chest to spread over.

It was all her fault somehow. She had washed away the wall between him and his emotions. And he had to stay strong at all costs. She didn't need her emotional husband beside her. She needed the strong Sith he was now.

Sith.

Sith.

He was a Sith now.

The realization only left emptiness inside him, the water cascading relentlessly on his back as he bent his head down.

There was a voice in his head telling him he was strong, powerful now, and he had done this for her, everything for her and he needed not be so weak. He was Darth Vader and soon enough he would own everything. He would give her everything.

He would control everything. Even his weak emotions.

He appeared later on, clad in a simple towel, his blue eyes piercing her as he eyed her sitting on the bed, hands fidgeting on her lap. She looked up as he stood in front of her. She didn't say anything about the raindrops falling on the floor. She didn't seem to care for once.

"I need to know." She said suddenly.

He felt himself stiffen at the look in her eyes.

"I need to know if, if-" Her teary eyes searched his in the darkness. "If you are involved for the Temple, if you-"

"Padmé." His voice cut her off and he came closer standing directly in front of her. The expression on her face begged him to deny it. It begged him to tell her he was still the man she loved.

He was too tired to lie.

His live hand enclosed her cheek shakily and he knelt down in front of her bed, blue eyes locking with brown ones in the darkness.

"I love you." He whispered.

He felt his lower lip begin to tremble and he brought his head forward, pressing his lips against hers, trying to convey the raw feeling in his chest, the one that made him fall down on his knees in front of Palpatine and made him crawl on the floor, begging for her life.

He wanted her to feel that these words were true. It was the only thing keeping him sane, keeping him from falling off the edge and stumbling into the darkness threatening to engulf him.

She sighed in his mouth and her small hands caressed his damp face, tangled into the wet strands of hair. His lips traced her neck, before attacking her collarbone, hands removing the top of her nightgown. She stiffened in his embrace, even when his mouth reached the outline of her breasts, a lone hand tangling into his hair.

"Tell me the truth, Anakin."

He groaned against her skin in agony. His heart was pounding in fright in his chest, making him shake against her warm body.

"Please, Padmé…" He whispered as his hands deftly pulled back the nightgown, revealing her swollen belly. His face twisted in despair, tears escaping his eyes in spite of himself.

"Trust me." He said through clenched teeth, his blue eyes boring into her worried ones.

Her lips closed over his swiftly and her hands clutched at his bare back as he explored her once again.

Afterwards, as they lay together, limbs tangled, he felt her belly pressing against him. The bulge, warm and solid against his skin, reminding him of other pressing matters and happiness and death was suddenly touched by a trembling golden hand.

A soft voice, whispering, breathed by his ear.

"I love you, Anakin."