Hi! Oh my gosh, I realize I've taken dreadfully long to update and I'm so sorry! I kind of drifted away from Padmé/Anakin for a while and was starting to get into Luke/Mara, and I completely forgot about this story! I truly hope I haven't lost all my readers! But thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter.
I will also now start replying to reviews. I realize I've been a bit lax on that, LOL. Thank you for all your kind words!
Onto the chapter. I realize it's rather short but the next one will be where the action really begins, so, I need to save up my energy for that. LOL.
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Padmé's first matter of business was getting Anakin out of that suit—and quickly.
On her outing with Dormé, she had become achingly aware of the barrier that lay between her and her husband; and it was that blasted suit. It was Vader's fortress, where he could shield those blue eyes from her and ensure that she couldn't see what he was feeling. It would be nearly impossible to reach him in there, a broken, battered body inside his protective shell. That's really all it was, anymore; a shell. Sometimes she would forget that a man lived in there, a man that she had once touched and caressed and held within the circle of her arms.
As soon as she returned to the apartment—where Anakin was not present—she marched straight to the comm. center, intent on pestering those Kaminoans into speeding up the cloning process a bit. They had created an entire grand army in ten years, after all—surely they could produce a few limbs much quicker than this.
"Hello, Senator Amidala," came a pleasant, cultured voice over the comm., accompanying a thin, elegant humanoid face with wide set eyes. "What an unexpected surprise. It's been a long time; how are you?" The humanoid smiled warmly and touched his lips with his long, elegant fingers.
Padmé mustered what she hoped was a friendly smile. "Prime Minister Lama Su," she greeted the man. She had spoken with him once or twice before during the Clone Wars, and he'd always been a courteous and polite man with impeccable manners. "It's good to see you; I am well, thank you. However, I'm afraid I don't have time to chat; there's a rather urgent matter at hand that I must discuss with you."
Lama Su immediately straightened in his seat and put on his business face. "Of course, Senator. What can I help you with?"
Padmé took a breath. "I'd like to know if there's anything we can do to speed up the cloning process for Ana-" she stopped herself, and took a deep breath. "For Lord Vader's new limbs and lungs. The medic informed me that it could take up to a year, but Lord Vader's health is in jeopardy and I would really rather have his new limbs as soon as-"
"Senator," Lama Su interrupted her, his face solemn. "Please forgive me, but I'm afraid I am not sure what you're talking about," he apologized slowly. "Lord Vader is in need of new limbs?"
Padmé blinked. "Of course," she assured him, though her voice was wavering. "The Emperor told me so himself. He said he had sent Lord Vader's DNA to your facility." This was absurd. How could the Prime Minister forget such an order?
Lama Su eyed her for a moment. "I'm terribly sorry, but I don't believe that such an order was placed," he told her in his soothing voice, his hands coming together to fold in his lap.
Padmé felt as if her heart had suddenly stopped working, and her stomach was fluttering uncontrollably. "No, you must be mistaken, Prime Minister," she declared, and barely heard her voice pitch an octave higher. "Perhaps Taun We was overseeing the order; I didn't realize you might not know. May I please speak with Taun We?"
Lama Su began to look extremely uncomfortable. "Senator-"
"Taun We will know," she said, starting to talk faster and faster. "Please, let me speak with her. It's extremely important. The order was placed, I'm sure of it. I'll just need to speak with her and everything will be fine."
The Prime Minister stopped her babbling and looked at her harshly. "Senator," he said in a slow, firm voice. "I've just checked the records. No such order has been placed. I am sure of it."
Padmé blinked again.
"I'm sorry," Lama Su offered, looking at her warily. "But the order was not placed. I'm afraid the technology to clone individual parts of a species has not even been perfected yet—we've been working on it, but no attempts have been successful."
Padmé stared. And she stared.
The humanoid leaned closer to the comm. station. "Senator?"
Rage.
She felt terrible, all consuming, incomparable rage, racing through her veins, making her heart pump faster and faster. Without bothering to bid Lama Su farewell, she reached over and deactived the comm. Slowly, very carefully, she stood, her eyes trained on the wall ahead of her. Looking down at her hands, she realized that they were shaking.
He'd lied to her.
Such technology wasn't available yet. This whole time, nothing had been done to help Anakin's condition. Palpatine had flat out lied to her. Anakin wasn't getting help. He probably never would. He was going to stay in that suit for the rest of his life.
Padmé cried out and clenched her fists, helplessly. No…no. This was wrong. This was a lie. None of this was real.
As her mind reeled, her body began to wildly malfunction. Her lungs flew away like a bird and her stomach slithered away like a snake. Her ears went deaf. Her muscles starting shivering as if she had malaria and her knees began to shake like they were dancing. Her heart strained against the cage of her ribs and her vision began to swim in and out of focus. Every part of her, in the manner most suited to it, fell apart.
But then the rage began to recede, leaving her dizzy and weak. Now instead of anger, she felt terrible, awful shame; shame and guilt. This was her fault. Her fault. This was all her fault. This was no longer about the suit—no, this was something much deeper. How could she have not seen this coming? The lies and deceit and Anakin's desperate fight for sanity—how could she have not known?
No. The sad truth was that she had known; she had just chosen not to see it.
And now they were paying the price. They all were. The entire galaxy. Everything was lost to her. Because she hadn't seen it, or hadn't wished to see it, her entire life was in shambles. Nothing would ever be the same again. Nothing.
She'd seen the darkness in Anakin ever since that day she comforted him in the Lars' garage. A part of her, deep down and dormant, had known. She'd seen the terrible, terrible demons within his soul, seen the way that they slowly ate away at him, fueling his doubts, feeding the flame that was his anger. She'd seen his temper, terrible, dark, and unstoppable, and had been achingly aware of what he was capable of. But the rest of her, the part that loved Anakin, the part that desperately wished not to see what had been coming, had denied it, had violently pushed the thought aside and pretended it had never happened.
And now she knew. Oh, how she knew; how appallingly aware she was now.
Padmé fell to her knees, a raw cry escaping from her throat. Oh, the fragility of life. Everything could be ripped away from you in a single, dark moment of decision. She was sobbing, screaming in despair, and there was nothing to catch her. Dimly, she realized that Dormé was beside her, frantically calling her name, but she hardly noticed. In fact, so consumed was she by these thoughts, that when her midsection went into painful spasms and a cool wetness ran down her leg, she didn't acknowledge it. Instead, she slumped to the ground and allowed darkness to soothe and numb her tortured mind.
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To be continued…
