A/N: If questions arose from last chapter, this may provide some orientating answers. Enjoy :)
CHAPTER THREE
The terms were simple enough. Amidala had come to him not so much as to save their marriage but to strike the second part of the cleverest, two-pronged political alliance of her career. Had there ever been a smarter match that a Senator—soon to be Governor—wed to the Empire's right-hand man with the blessing of Palpatine himself?
But first she would have had to convince the Emperor. Vader imagined her striding alone into the atrium of the Imperial Palace, demanding an audience with Palpatine. They would have ceded to her commands only after recognizing the once classical, now severe beauty of Senator Amidala. Up to the main tower, once the Chancellor's, now the Emperor's, the clones would have led her, pressing the tips of their riffles into her back. They no longer owed her one iota of respect.
The Emperor would have made her wait, relishing the sensation of her stewing on the other side of the doorway. Finally the red, towering statues would have parted and let the slight woman past, bowing gracefully to their Emperor as Amidala fixed her steady gaze on the one being she had once hated beyond all other things.
But hate was beneath her now. There was no room for passion in the new politics of the Empire.
Vader had since heard both versions of the conversation from both parties. He had constructed the scene in his head over the years.
Vader imagined him smiling softly at her stony face, gesturing grandly for her to take a seat. Even during the days of her reign on Naboo had Palpatine had played her warm, grandfatherly mentor. Amidala had never appreciated this role even at fourteen, and now at twenty-seven the belittlement would have wired her jaw rigid.
Palpatine took a seat on the other side of his desk. "Yes, Senator? How may I be of service to you on this fine afternoon?"
In Vader's mind, Amidala leaned forward, and with her powerful, unsmiling leer told him, "I need you and you have most desperate need of me."
Presumably, Palpatine said nothing for a moment, steepling his fingers: the politician's habit he still had not lost in his two weeks of tyranny. He had also not yet traded his office for the gloomy throne room Vader would come to know very well in the coming years. "Hmm," the Emperor would have grunted, the left side of his mouth pulling into a terrible grin. She would have stifled her repulsion, not yet used to his newly-wrought ugliness.
"I can understand the need you have for me. It is quite suspicious how you and Senator Bail Organa have been unavailable to the Senate for these past few weeks. I can't say I ever liked that fellow. Very suspicious. I have terminated senators in the past for lesser grievances. And then there's the matter of you being the leader of opposition in the Old Republic. I don't know how familiar with our new political system you are, but I can assure you that this position is no longer required. In fact, I believe you've already been formally relieved of your duties in the Senate."
"So, I've been told."
"Then you've come wishing for me to re-instate you?"
She would have shaken her head, smiling slightly. "I desire nothing more to do with the Senate."
This would have surprised him. "Then what is it that you desire? Tell me, I am most eager to be disinclined."
"I've heard rumors of a new ruling body, comprised of governors—favorites of yours. I've heard you've divided the galaxy between them, allowing them rule over hundreds of star systems. All military and political power has been placed in their grip and they answer to you alone."
"You've heard correct. And?"
She would have said nothing for a moment, just watching, waiting. Then, "I want a seat on this governing council."
Vader imagined his master's scoffing laughter.
"I only ask for Naboo. Surely you can find it in you to grant me that." Amidala wouldn't beg, but she would reason.
"And why would I do that. You must realize by now I've wanted you dead since day one."
"You need me."
"So you've said, but I fail to see just exactly why I need you."
"You see, somewhere during my conversation with my husband on Mustafar, it became apparent to me that you had promised him my life in return for his services. Now, Anakin—excuse me, Lord Vader—has suffered a very raw deal; I understand he is recovering from terrible injuries at the Imperial Rehabilitation Center."
"He is."
"Spare my life and make me a governor. In turn, you will be able to hold up your end of the bargain you forged with Lord Vader. I will live and stand by his side with your blessing."
"Hmmm," he would groan thoughtfully. "True, true, very true. Ipromise him that. But tell, me, Governor, why did you come back? I had hoped you had perished, but wonderedif perhaps you had gone off into exile. I thought peace, justice, and democracy was you mantra."
"Why did I come back?" Vader imagined her snide, triumphant smile. "Peace, justice, democracy—I truly believe we share these principals, your Highness. I can't imagine the galaxy in better hands. It would be an honor to continue working under you"
All traces of humor would have vanished from the Emperor's face.
"Now I know you're lying."
For some ill-defined reason Vader would never know the truth of, Palpatine agreed to this treacherous proposition of Amidala's. And for that reason alone, Palpatine granted her access to what was left of her husband.
"The Emperor wanted me to evaluate your condition myself before I agreed to remain married to you," she told Vader with all the warmth of a comet streaking space-ward.
"You're safe." he managed: a croaky whisper, even more painful to say than it was to hear. He tried to take a great, gulping gasp of air in retribution and failed. He coughed fiercely.
"Yes." She looked very pale but stood very straight.
At once, he saw she was a great deal littler around the middle than the last time he had laid eyes on her. The roundness of pregnancy had shrunk away.
"The child," he cried. "Where…?"
She must have given birth he realized. A million and one questions came to him. Boy or girl? Who did it look like? Was it healthy? When could he see it?
Amidala's face was unreadable. She let him wonder wide-eyed for a moment. She let him think for the first time since he had been at the Imperial Rehabilitation Center that there was still something good in the world.
This way the news would be all the more painful.
"It was a stillborn. I delivered it dead."
"No…"
"The doctors think that it was lack of oxygen that killed it." Was that cruel satisfaction he discerned from her features? Amidala rubbed her throat as though it were tender. "Apparently it suffocated in my womb. I wonder how that happened…"
He gritted his teeth, letting out a high sound of anguish, turning his head away. Vader closed his eyes, hoping for once the medication would soothe him back into blissful oblivion.
Finally, he said, "And you want to stay married...Why?"
"Many reasons, but spite chiefly."
He moaned pointlessly.
"The Emperor also thinks I should keep a close watch on you as you adjust to the suit."
"Suit?" All at once he felt the awkward numbness in place of where his limbs ought to be. Breathing was suddenly all the more laborious.
"I wouldn't dwell on it. That just makes it worse." Amidala said lazily and stepped closer to the slab until she stood over him. "How much do you remember from Mustafar?" From his blank look she surmised, "Not a lot, eh?"
But he did remember. He remembered all of it. She had tried to kill him; she had brought Kenobi to do it. He remembered rage. He remembered the look of horror and betrayal and then love still in her eyes in that eternal moment before she crumpled to the floor. And he remembered fire. He had been on fire! He was burning—even now still!
The soft, medicated cloak of half-consciousness was ripped from his body. The pain! He screamed and he hollered—not from the pain which in itself was insurmountable—but the agonizing acknowledgement that he was but half a man. The words of the Emperor rose like bile in his mind and Vader gagged at the reality of his situation.
"…circuitry and coverings…"
He screamed until he gasped for breath that would not come and then could only gaze horrified up at Amidala who had not so much as flinched during his outrage. He expected her to tell him that he deserved every minute of it. Instead she brought her hand down along his chest and pressed in on a button in much the same manner one would start up a droid.
Vader felt the seizing of his heart slow so that it was out of rhythm with his panic.
"Wh-wh-a…are you do-ing to me?"
"Look up."
He obeyed fearfully and she switched on the overhead mirrors. Vader was reminded of those alien, tackily decorated hotels where the ceilings were mirrored so that lovers could watch themselves in bed. Their macabre reflection seemed assterilized as the surgical instrument were. She was so white, dressed in heavy, dark material that caught the cold light and glimmered in an unworldly way. He shone too: the black metal of his shins and shoulders gleamed in industrial splendor. Vader was brand horribly new except for his scarred, raw head—too weak and battered to belong to this powerful body.
They caught the eyes of each other's reflection.
Amidala looked away first, gesturing to the panel built onto his chest. "This panel controls the suit. The suit controls your body. You control this panel." She went onto explain the different functions, telling him his lungs were damaged beyond repair and he would have to wear a mask unless he wished to spend the rest of his life flat on his back.
He was twenty-three years old and he may as well be dead.
"Now, one last thing, Lord Vader. We have yet to discuss the conditions of our marriage." Amidala ticked off the new stipulations. "One, I am your wife in only the loosest of legal senses. I will go and come as I please. I will do and not do as I please. The same applies to you."
"Agreed," Vader whispered.
"Two, the past is the past and do not ever attempt and make it the present. Know what we had is lost. All we can do is move forward professionally."
Vader nodded.
"And lastly…" She rubbed at her throat, this time unknowingly. Something shined in her eyes. "Don't you ever,ever touch me again."
"I won't hurt you, I promise. I'll keep you safe…I'll"
"No. That's not what I said. Do you vow to not even touch me, Vader—ever again?"
"I do," he said.
And thus began the first day of their second marriage.
Assured, Amidala left his side and strode majestically toward the exit. "They will be fitting you with the mask shortly." In the next second she was gone.
Vader refused to recall his exact thoughts as the mask lowered and the black helmet snapped into place. Even now it caused him a terrifying claustrophobia. He rose furiously from his memories,rising from the salon sofa twenty years later. The first breath had been so loud; he scarcely heard it anymore.
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