Disclaimer: No, but if I did I'd have a lot of fun.
Author's Note:
phantom-jedi1: I've always kind of wanted to smack Yoda in the head with that concept whenever I watch the movies or read any of the books. All the bad results come from attachment, not love itself.
Kyer: It won't end entirely badly. I promise.
badkidoh: I can see where you would think that Padme is a little OOC, because the decisions she's making certainly aren't ones she'd make in the movies. The way I'm viewing her right now, though, is that she pretty much reached a breaking point when she realized that Anakin could corrupt her children. After that, her focus shifted from devoted-to-Anakin to devoted-to-children.
Anakin T Skywalker: I was kind of sad about it too. Believe it or not, I actually like Padme's character.
aliceandjasper: I think it's in your definition of tragedy. I promise that this story won't have a completely unhappy ending.
jedigal125: No, she won't commit suicide.
Thanks to everyone else who reviewed!
Feedback: Makes me as happy as staying safely on the ground makes Obi-Wan!
After an afternoon of time with Luke, Anakin finds Obi-Wan standing on the balcony with Leia, watching as the sun sets over the industrial skyline of Coruscant. Only, Obi-Wan isn't doing much watching—instead, he's talking to Leia. The sight alone is enough to make Anakin's lips quirk upwards in a rare, genuine smile. His former master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, is talking to a baby in a way so undignified that Anakin knows he's going to hate realizing he's been found doing it.
He clears his throat loudly.
As expected, Obi-Wan flushes a bright red. "Anakin."
"You never did that with me," he teases, just for something to say—just because he's enjoying the moment. He's missed light moments like these.
A tiny ghost of a smile flickers in Obi-Wan's eyes, though it never reaches his mouth. "You were hardly a baby when I became your master, Anakin. I doubt you would have liked being spoken to as if you were an infant."
Nodding, Anakin shifts Luke in his arms. He's had full care of his son all afternoon, even shortly before Padme went to visit with friends—not that he's complaining. He would never complain about the time he spends with Luke. Never. The way Luke lays in his arms, so trustingly, staring up at him with enchanting blue eyes that seem to radiate acceptance—the feeling is perfect, and he craves the sort of acceptance that only his son is giving him anymore.
Leia, as much as he loves her, isn't the same. Whereas Luke seems to calm when Anakin holds him, Leia becomes fussy, agitated to the point where she cries. Oddly, he thinks it's because she's too much like him. The darkness that she can sense in him obviously upsets her, and, like Anakin, she responds to what she doesn't like by complaining. Loudly.
Luke... he's different. He must sense the darkness as well—Anakin knows he's Force-sensitive—but instead of fearing it, he seems to want to face it, to calm it with his sweet personality. He's just a baby—too young to really understand what he's doing—but the way he looks at Anakin with such love—it's as if he sees the darkness and intends to outshine it with his light.
It's enough to make Anakin want to let him, if he wasn't so scared to let go of the power that the dark gives him.
"She's very comfortable with you, you know," Anakin says, nodding toward where Leia is falling asleep in Obi-Wan's arms. "It's nice. Thank you for watching her while Padme visits with her friends. She needed the time, I think."
He supposes that Obi-Wan's tiny, nearly imperceptible flinch is worry at the fact that Padme needed the time at all. He can understand—he feels the same way.
Anakin supposes he shouldn't be surprised that his daughter has taken so well to Obi-Wan. He's already admitted to himself that Leia has his personality and, well, Obi-Wan has had years to learn how to deal with Anakin's temperament. It's unsurprising that he's so good with a baby who displays so many of Anakin's traits.
"You have beautiful children, Anakin."
He takes the compliment in stride, pleased that Obi-Wan at least still likes something about him. "She's more like me, you know—Leia, I mean. Luke—Luke is more like Padme."
Obi-Wan glances at where Leia is curled in his arms, blinking sleepily, but still fighting off slumber. "Yes."
"Leia is headstrong already, but Luke—he's calm and will probably be more thoughtful once he gets older. Sensitive."
"Leia is sensitive, too." The all-but-sleeping baby in his arms stirs a little as he speaks, raising a hand to lightly close around Obi-Wan's tunic. "It's just in a different way."
"More like how I was as a child?"
"You, Anakin, were an entity unto yourself," he replies with a small sigh. "But, yes, more like you. A lot like you."
Anakin doesn't enjoy the sadness that taints Obi-Wan's features. He looks as though the memories hurt. "Do you remember when I was about ten, and I saw someone's face get blown off for the first time?"
A frown pulls at the corners of Obi-Wan's mouth. "Yes. You pretended it didn't bother you. You wouldn't talk about it, and you became irritated when I tried to make you."
"Until I had a nightmare. Then I came to find you in the middle of the night."
"And wouldn't go back to sleep, as I recall," Obi-Wan adds, wryly. "Yes, I remember."
"So you got me a cup of tea and let me sit awake in your bed talking until I finally became too tired to fight off sleep anymore. You let me stay with you."
Obi-Wan nods. "What you saw bothered you."
"Because I was the same kind of sensitive that I bet Leia is going to be. I—it's hard to explain. I didn't like to see things that hurt, but I didn't like to admit I could have any kind of weakness, either. I didn't want you to know how much things got to me, so when they did, I got angry and irritated in an effort to hide how I really felt."
"Like Leia does, at least as much as a baby can," Obi-Wan agrees with a smirk. He turns his gaze down to Leia and rocks her gently. "She'll be the sharp-tongued one of the two, I'll bet. Never one to admit weakness, but kind and loving underneath. Sensitive in a way she'll try to stop people from seeing."
Anakin's stomach twists. Was that what Obi-Wan thought about him? "Is that an observation about her, or about how you thought I was?" He doesn't understand how he can so very much want it to be about him. He shouldn't—he's a Sith now. He shouldn't still crave Obi-Wan's approval.
Immediately, Obi-Wan's expression closes off, and the moment is shattered. It's so quick—so complete that Anakin can't hope to get it back, as much as he wants it. "Why are you out here, Anakin? Did you need something?"
Anakin considers pressing Obi-Wan for an answer, but after last night, he doesn't relish the idea of another fight. Besides, he's come to tell Obi-Wan something. "I—try to touch the Force, Obi-Wan."
Whatever emotion was left on Obi-Wan's face vanishes, replaced by something completely unreadable and closed-off. "I'm not playing this game, Anakin," he says slowly, every word precisely articulated, so much so that Anakin understands he's trying to make his point—trying to stop this now without having to show how much the loss of the Force is hurting him.
"Just try."
He knows the moment that Obi-Wan does. It's nothing blatant—no ostentatious display that Anakin himself would likely have made—but the tiny light fueled by hope which brightens his eyes is enough. Obi-Wan knows he has the Force back, and as the realization sinks in, relief begins to find its way into his features, relaxing his mouth, causing his eyes to flutter closed for a few moments. Anakin hadn't realized how tense Obi-Wan was until now, when he's finally relaxing, if only a little.
"As I'm sure you know by now, there's an implant somewhere inside of you that stopped you from accessing the Force. I had its setting changed so that as long as you stay inside this apartment, it won't do that anymore."
Obi-Wan swallows, raising his gaze to meet Anakin's. "I presume that, should I leave these apartments, I'll suddenly find myself without the Force once again?"
"Yes."
It's obvious that he'd like to say something—would like to protest—but he remains silent, perhaps in the name of prudence, Anakin thinks. Obi-Wan is smart enough to know that an argument might only earn him a revocation of this unexpected reprieve.
Instead, he settles for a comment that's only mildly provoking in its nature, though the weariness in his tone takes most of the sting out of it. "You offer an odd sort of hospitality, Anakin."
"I've told you that Sidious will kill you if you leave this apartment. Why is it so difficult to understand that I'm trying to stop that from happening?"
Obi-Wan doesn't answer right away. Instead, he settles down on a seat a few feet back from the edge of the balcony. Leia is still cradled in his arms, asleep now, though her tiny hand continues to clutch at Obi-Wan's tunic.
"It's not difficult to understand that you are trying to stop that from happening, Anakin. It's simply difficult to understand why."
He feels his brow furrow. "I don't follow your meaning."
"Why do you care, Anakin? About me, about Padme, about that baby in your arms? Why? A true Sith lord wouldn't care—he would be fueled only by his anger and his hate."
"I just wanted to be able to save Padme—"
"So you embraced the dark. Yes, I know, you've told me. But, ultimately, wasn't it because you were afraid to lose her? That, Anakin, is why the Jedi code forbids attachment... not love. If you can love in a way that allows you to let the person go..."
"Then why would you never tell me that you loved me?"
The way Obi-Wan regards him almost sadly is a bit surprising. It's enough to make Anakin listen attentively to what he's about to say. "Because I never quite realized until recently that love is not the same thing as attachment."
"And you seem to almost regret that..."
"Would you believe me if I said that I did?"
Anakin glances down, taking note of the way Obi-Wan is holding Leia. It's... fatherly, and not at all the pose of someone who doesn't care for the tiny life in his arms. It's someone who's entirely comfortable with the child he's holding—someone who doesn't regret that he cares for that child. "I might."
"I'm beginning to think that I do. Just as I believe that you regret some of the things you've done."
"I don't regret what I've done," he snaps, mentally recoiling. He's not in the mood for another list of his short-comings. "I don't regret saving Padme."
Only, he does regret the methods he used. The memories of the destruction of the Jedi Temple haunt him, even if he keeps telling himself they shouldn't. The Jedi were traitors, they betrayed the Republic, and they deserved what they got.
"I know you wish you hadn't hurt Padme the other night, and I think you're scared you'll do it again. Because you know that as long as you cling to the dark side, Anakin, you can lose control—"
"No, I'll learn to control it!" he cuts him off, trying not to feel guilty when Luke gives a fussy cry. He can always sense the darkness in the Force, and Anakin hates it when he makes his son cry. He hates that there's a part of him that even his own son despises.
"It can't be controlled, Anakin. It will dominate you, just as the light side of the Force does. In the end, we can only choose which side we want to live by."
Luke's tiny face screws up and he begins to squirm. "You're wrong!"
"You are the one who's wrong, Anakin," Obi-Wan counters, shooting him a look tinged with sadness. "Though, you're not the only one. Even the Jedi had their faults. No one was infallible, but you still have to recognize that this path is only going to lead to destruction."
Even as a sneer rises on his lips, he's already hating himself for it. The possibility that Obi-Wan is right is enough to make him loathe his inability to even consider that he's wrong, because he's afraid that he might be and, if he is, where will that leave him? After all that he's done, what will happen to him if he was wrong? He's killed so many people—there's so much blood on his hands—and, surely, if he admits that, he can't expect Padme, Obi-Wan, and his children to stand by him... and he so desperately doesn't want to lose any of them.
No, he simply can't be wrong.
"With my power, Obi-Wan, I saved Padme. Could the Jedi do that?"
The sadness in Obi-Wan's face deepens. "They might have been able to if they'd realized that love is not the same as attachment. But, even if they hadn't been able to, the light side of the Force would have still been able to help heal you from that loss. The dark side—it heals nothing, Anakin. It only destroys."
The dark undercurrents of the Force begin to hum inside of him, growing stronger with every word that Obi-Wan speaks. He doesn't want to lose his temper again—doesn't want to hurt Obi-Wan like he did the night before—but it's so difficult to keep control. That in itself is defeat, because hasn't Obi-Wan just told him that? He can't control the Force's power, but whereas before the light side aided him and those around him, the dark side brings only power and destruction. To lose control of that side of the Force is far more deadly.
"You can manipulate the Force for a time, Anakin, but eventually its power will overwhelm you."
The beeping of Anakin's comlink interrupts his intended reply. It hardly matters, anyway—he's not even sure what he was going to say.
A quick check reveals that it's Sidious who's summoning him... again. It's as if his time is not his own. The very prospect of seeing that man's twisted face is enough to increase his annoyance. He doesn't want to see him, and knowing that he has to answer the call is enough to make him want to go even less.
Unfortunately, he knows he has to if he doesn't want to suffer repercussions.
"I'm going to take Luke up to bed," he tells Obi-Wan as he puts his comlink away. "Please keep an eye on him. I'm going out."
Obi-Wan doesn't ask why.
Anakin's not surprised—he has a feeling his former master already knows without having to be told.
After Anakin leaves, Obi-Wan puts Leia to bed. He loves the little girl, but she needs some sleep... and he needs some time alone. It's been too long since he's touched the Force, and to have it back now is something beyond even relief.
Except, he's having trouble meditating.
When Obi-Wan was younger, this was a problem he'd often had. He'd certainly never told Anakin that—the boy would have been insufferable if he'd known that Obi-Wan had possessed the same difficulties that he himself had—but it didn't make it any less true. Back in those days, proper meditation had always seemed so illusive, a calm center seeming to be a mere ideal and not a reality.
Now, kneeling on his bedroom floor in a meditative pose, he's beginning to wonder if he's back to that stage again. He can grasp the Force—can feel it singing all around him—and while it's a balm to his injured mind, he can't quite seem to properly release all his feelings to it.
Worse, he knows exactly why.
He can't release his feelings to the Force simply because he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to give himself up to the will of the Force, mainly because he fears what that will might be.
He fears that it may mean killing Anakin.
The idea is enough to bring back every bit of anxiety that he'd managed to release, leaving him in the same position he was when he'd begun meditating. Until he gives in to whatever the Force has planned for him, he knows that what he is doing is useless.
But he's not yet ready to bow to a larger plan. He's not ready to accept that he may have to end Anakin's life.
With a deep sigh, he gets up off his knees and heads for the door of the room.
He'll try this again later. Maybe by then he'll have more clarity in his thoughts.
Anakin can barely remember a time when he was actually glad to see Sidioius. It seems so strange that this man was once Palpatine, the kindly old gentleman who was almost a grandfather-sort of figure. How this man could have ever been a trusted friend—someone Anakin asked for advice—he's not sure. Now he's fairly certain that Sidious would kill him if he thought it would further his plans.
Though, that was likely always the case. It's just that Anakin is only seeing that now.
"You summoned me, Master?" Anakin says, sinking to one knee in front of Sidious. His mood is as harsh and unmovable as the durasteel room around them. There's nothing welcoming about these new chambers—it's nothing like Palpatine's office used to be. Before, where there were warm, inviting colors, there's now dark, harsh metal.
Sidious stares down at him with his reddened eyes. His face is terrible to look at—almost diseased, and certainly very deformed, as if his face has begun to melt. "Yes, my apprentice. I thought it necessary to inform you that a... setback has occurred."
All right. He has Anakin's attention.
"I think that perhaps you might have insight into exactly how this misstep came into being."
"I am sorry, Master, but I'm unsure of what you mean."
"Undoubtedly you are, Lord Vader. Allow me to enlighten you." Each movement a deliberate one, Sidious rises from his chair, indicating that Vader should stand as well. Once they are on an equal level, he catches Anakin's gaze and holds it with an intensity that Anakin has very seldom seen matched. There's a warning in those sulfur-colored eyes: whatever Sidious is about to reveal, he's very displeased by it. "Somehow, the remaining Jedi were able to discern where we were holding our prisoners, mainly ones from the Jedi Order."
Anakin feels his stomach plummet to what feels like somewhere near his boots. He knows what's coming, but he dares not interrupt. It would only make things worse… and if this is what Anakin thinks it is, things are horrendous already.
"It seems that the Jedi had information from the inside. Can you think of anyone who might have seen the prison levels—who was shown where they were?"
"My Lord, I apologize for my failure. It won't happen again." He'll find out who Obi-Wan is in contact with, and he'll kill that person. Slowly and painfully. Then he'll make sure that Obi-Wan doesn't interact with anyone else, and he certainly won't be taking him on any more excursions out of the apartment.
"You're correct," Sidious replies sharply. "It won't. Master Kenobi will be removed, just as I said he should have been from the beginning. I was remiss to allow this little... indulgence at all."
No. Anakin won't accept that. "You can't kill him. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."
Sidious's mouth curls into something between a snarl and a smirk. "You misunderstand me, Lord Vader: I have already arranged for him to be terminated. Tonight. Now."
No. No.
Some strange mixture of rage and terror erupts inside of Anakin, melding together until he can't begin to separate the two emotions. All he knows is that Sidious is going to kill Obi-Wan, that he's going to kill the man who's been like his father and brother, and that, right now, Anakin is incapable of stopping it. There's nothing he can do. He'll never get there in time.
"Call it off!" he demands, abandoning all pretense of an obedient apprentice as he lunges to his feet, stopping barely an arm's length away from Sidious. "If you kill him, I will never do anything that you say."
Sidious smiles, wide and open. There's delight dancing in his deformed eyes and face, so twisted, but pleased with the destruction he's causing. "I think you will, Lord Vader. I know you will. There are still others that you care for, after all." He pauses, slowly wetting his lips with his tongue in a grotesque parody of thoughtfulness. "Your children, for example. It would be so... easy to snap their tiny necks. Imagine how they would look, as the life flows out of them..." His eyes flutter closed as he smiles even more widely. "Just imagine..."
"I'LL KILL YOU!" Anakin screams, lunging forward. He doesn't know what he intends to do, only that he will do whatever it takes.
His hands never close on anything more than air before agony rips through him, through his skin, through his bones, through every part of him. He's on fire, burning for the inside out, dying, falling, slipping away—
It stops, and he's on the ground.
Sidious's hands still crackle with blue lightening as he looks down at where Anakin has fallen. "You still have much to learn, my apprentice. So much to learn. This foolish love that you have for these people—it gives me power over you. Only your pain and your rage will give you the strength that you need to embrace your true destiny. I can feel your conflict, your hate," he whispers, inhaling deeply as he closes his eyes, drawing himself up to full height as he feeds on Anakin's emotions. "Let them take control..."
No. No, he won't, because if he ever does, he won't have Padme. He won't have his children. He won't have Obi-Wan. He'll have nothing to live for, and the entire reason he embraced the dark side in the first place will be gone. It will all mean nothing. His life will mean nothing, and he'll only be a puppet for Sidious to use.
He'd be better off dead.
"They hold you back, Lord Vader. With their passing, you will embrace the dark side fully."
"I will never be like you!" he rages, clambering to his feet. His nerves scream in protest, but he ignores the pain. He doesn't have time for pain right now.
Sidious's lips stretch back over his yellowed teeth in a wide, satisfied smile. "You already are."
"NO!"
"Do you think your family will ever accept you after what you did to the Jedi? You slaughtered them. You left their corpses littering the halls of the Jedi Temple. The old and the sick, the younglings—all of them. No one could forgive that. The things you have done, my young apprentice—they are so heavily imbued with the Dark Side. None of the people you love will be able to excuse or forgive you."
Maybe they won't, but Anakin still won't let them die. They deserve better—better than him—and he wishes he'd realized that sooner. Padme would be better off dead than living in the world he's created, and now maybe she will be dead, because Anakin very much doubts that Sidious only intends to kill Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan.
Sidious doesn't know he can touch the Force. It's not much—Obi-Wan still doesn't have a weapon—but it's a glimmer of hope, and if anyone could stop whatever assassination attempt Sidious has planned, it's Obi-Wan.
He's got to believe that.
Fixing Sidious with one last murderous glare—because this confrontation isn't over, but merely postponed—Anakin turns and sprints for the door. He has to get home, has to try to stop this, even if he knows he'll be too late.
"You will return, Lord Vader," Sidious says, cackling as Anakin flees the room. "The darkness is already in you, and you will return. You will return, and I will be waiting..."
Anakin runs.