A/N: I hope you all enjoy this extra long chapter. This one's dedicated to RyuuShadow, who's left so many kind and thoughtful reviews.
Have a happy Empire Day...
:)
*** DAY FIVE - EMPIRE DAY.
Padmé stood her ground, trembling in the chill air. It had all passed in a blur.
First, their arrival in the spaceport. Her heart violently throbbing, she'd handed over her false ID to a stormtrooper. She'd expertly answered questions on her new name, date of birth, and purpose for visiting. She'd thought she might pass out as the trooper slowly evaluated her ID, double and triple-checking the information with the official Imperial database. And then- mother of moons, it was a miracle!- she was cleared for entry.
She'd lingered near a tapcafe in the spaceport, waiting for Obi-Wan. Her anxiety skyrocketed, pulse pounding, sweat pooling in her palms, as Obi-Wan was subjected to the same scrutiny by the stormtrooper. And then… she'd audibly sighed in relief. He was cleared for entry, too.
Thank the gods, thank the Force...
And then came their second, equally nerve-wracking trip. Their slow, cautious approach to the Good Omens casino. The brief, very brief, call to Kanan making sure that the casino was still safe. The terror of entering the dark building; Obi-Wan did not have his lightsaber, and Padmé carried no weapons. An Imperial ambush would have killed them instantly.
But incredibly, no ambush came. And the Ghost crew was there to greet them.
To say the crew was "scuffed up" after their encounter with Vader was an understatement: Sabine had suffered third degree burns from blowing up the extra charges at close range; Zeb's fur was singed black from blaster bolts that flew far too close for comfort; Hera's arm was broken in three different places, from when Vader used the Force to hurl metal shipping crates into her right side. Kanan and Ezra were intact- relatively- but shaken.
"Kanan and I took on Vader so the others could escape." Ezra had explained. The blood drained from the teen boy's face, all traces of his good humor gone. "I slipped up during the duel. I fell flat on my back, and Vader almost took off my leg. If Sabine hadn't blown up the extra charges right then…" Ezra shuddered. "Well… good news is, Vader only took off a couple of my toes." The padawan tried to smile, but it only showed the strain that he was under. That they were all under.
By the time the Ghost crew finished explaining their mission, it was half past midnight. There hadn't even been time, it seemed, to take a breath before Padmé was swept away by Hera and Sabine.
The incident with Vader had set them back by thirty minutes. In the grand scheme of things, it didn't sound like much. After all, the Empire Day parade didn't start until nine AM. But the rebels would have to leave the Good Omens by one AM if they wanted to get into position in time. It wasn't because the parade's location (Avenue One) was particularly far- the Good Omens wasn't three megablocks away. Under ideal circumstances, the rebels could have covered that distance in less than an hour by airspeeder.
But these weren't ideal circumstances. Far from it. Because of the Imperial holiday- and the tightened security measures that came with it- all airspeeder traffic was restricted, and made available to only the most loyal and prestigious citizens. And even worse, tonight there was a curfew in effect. Beginning at midnight, citizens could only leave their homes if they carried express written permission from the Emperor or Lord Vader himself.
Any unauthorized trespassers would be shot on sight.
The rebels had a long night ahead of them. They'd have to evade the armed stormtrooper patrols that roamed Coruscant's streets. Thanks to Sabine and her Imperial background, the rebels knew exactly where each patrol would be, and when.
Theoretically.
The Imperial troops swept through each block like a well-oiled machine: in precise, deadly, predictable movements. If the rebels were very careful- very careful- and very patient, they could avoid the patrols. But because of the restricticted air and landspeeder traffic, they would have to head out on foot.
Thank the gods for Ghost Protocol… If Mon Mothma hadn't given them those cloaking devices, Padmé wouldn't have dared to sneak through the dark alleys.
At twelve-thirty AM, the rebels rushed through the Good Omens, preparing to leave at one AM as planned. As Hera hastily straightened Padmé's funeral gown, scrubbing off the dirt from the spaceport and tacking loose seams, the three Jedi quickly reassembled their lightsabers. Certain recognizable features- the gleaming metal hilts, the beveled handguards- had been separated from the other components. Hera had hidden the pieces throughout the Ghost's many smuggling compartments, praying they wouldn't be found if she was boarded by Imperials. Now, with the clock ticking, the Jedi were beginning to wish they hadn't been so cautious.
Padmé quickly freshened up, only to find Sabine waiting for her just outside the refresher. The younger woman bore a basket of flowers. At Padmé's quizzical look, Sabine flushed somewhat awkwardly.
"Your body double, Sabé, wore these too. When she and Obi-Wan forged your funeral, I mean." Sabine quickly explained. She raised the flower basket slightly. "I thought I'd help you'd put them in since you didn't see what it looked like and- well, I figured you wouldn't want to see a hologram of yourself in a casket."
Padmé nodded gratefully. Although the reminder of her "death" stung, at least someone was being frank with her.
Sabine quickly unpinned Padmé's hair from the messy knot at the back of her head. The curls spilled over the widow's shoulders, and Sabine deftly wove the white blossoms through the former's hair.
A lump rose in Padmé's throat as she finally recognized the Ellia flowers. They were native to Naboo- and these were real ones, from the look of it. The rebels had spared no expense when it came to the widow's ghostly attire.
She took a deep breath. "Sabine, I… I'm sorry to ask you to do this, but it's something very important to me." Padmé softly began. She tried to keep the tremor out of her voice.
For a brief instant, Sabine froze. Then the teenager hastily continued to weave flowers through Padmé's hair.
"Obi-Wan told me," Sabine said thickly, not meeting her eyes. "If I can't shoot Vader, you want me to shoot you. That's it, isn't it?" The teenager shook her head. "After all that talk about fighting, you're just going to give up."
"Give up?" Padmé echoed, suddenly defensive.
"Yeah. Give up." Sabine snapped. "We'd all do everything we could to rescue you if something happened. But you're not going to give us a chance."
"I'm not going to give Vader a second chance to hurt you." Padmé gently corrected the younger girl. "He's killed too many people already. I don't want anyone else to die for me."
Sabine still wouldn't meet her eyes.
"Sabine," Padmé firmly continued. She took the younger girl by the shoulders. "I couldn't protect my son." Padmé's grip tightened. "Please, for the love of the gods, at least let me protect you."
Abruptly, Sabine flung her arms around Padmé.
"Don't die," Sabine murmured through her crushing grip.
"You, too," Padmé softly replied.
Swiping her eyes, Sabine pulled away just as abruptly, muttering something about checking the sights on her sniper rifle.
And then it was one AM. The cloaking devices were handed out. The slow, treacherous walk to Avenue One began.
The stormtrooper patrols were everywhere- their plastoid boots smacking the duracrete, their glowrods set to a blinding brightness. Several times, a trooper shined his glowrod directly on the invisible rebels, causing everyone to freeze, hearts hammering… until the Imperial moved on.
The trek was arduous to say the least. The invisible rebels tiptoed through the pitch-black alleys, not daring to speak, trusting Obi-Wan to guide them through the silent city by memory. As they were unable to see one another, they walked in a slow procession, one hand resting on the shoulder of the person in front of them. Several times, the chain was broken when one person walked too slowly; everyone froze in a panic until the lost rebel found their way back to the group.
The sun was rising by the time they arrived at Avenue One. Imperials were already swarming through the wide streets. Automated holocams, representing various news channels on the holonet, hovered overhead. Stormtroopers marched in clean formation along the sides of the long avenue, alert for any rebel threats.
The rebels quickly made their way down the avenue, staying in the dead center to avoid the stormtroopers along the sides. By six AM, they silently parted ways. Sabine and Zeb snuck over to a flat rooftop in Subblock One, where Sabine would set up her sniper rifle, and Zeb would stand guard. Padmé didn't know where the others were headed- she'd been told the bare minimum of information, as Obi-Wan was worried Vader might read her mind and discover the rebels plans….
Padmé shuddered at the thought. To place herself in danger was one matter. Placing her newfound friends in danger was something she wasn't willing to risk.
She felt a familiar hand take hers, and she knew Obi-Wan wanted to lead her to the alley in Subblock Three. The alley where she would confront Darth Vader.
She squeezed Obi-Wan's hand tightly, and let him lead her there.
And now, Padmé stood her ground, trembling in the chill air. She'd abandoned her dark, ratty cloak, hiding it in one of the empty crates that littered the alleyway. But her cloaking device was still hidden beneath the flowing sleeves of her funeral gown, and it kept her invisible- safe, even- for the time being.
She shivered. The sun may have come up, but the glittering city had yet to be warmed by it. A sharp wind nipped at her skin, and Padmé wished she hadn't been buried in such a thin silk gown.
What time is it?
She couldn't tell; she had no chronometer. Obi-Wan had left her here, quietly promising to return for her once Sabine had taken the shot. A blaster bolt that would kill Vader- or, if everything went terribly wrong, a blaster bolt that would have to kill her instead.
Would that be so terrible? A swift, clean blaster bolt ending her heroics, sending her back to her family…. Back to Anakin and Jinn, wherever their souls rested….
Don't think like that, Padmé admonished herself. What would Anakin say?
A small smile grew upon her lips. Oh, she could easily imagine the profanity-filled tirade Anakin would go on if he knew she was attempting something this reckless.
I'm sorry, sweetie… Hopefully you aren't rolling in your grave right now. You deserve to have some peace, after everything… Do that for me, alright, Anakin? Please try to. It's not like I can have much peace, given where I am right now.
You'll just have to be happy enough for the both of us, my love….
Her legs were growing numb. Her teeth were chattering, and Padmé had a hunch that her lips were turning blue. But she waited. She stood there, waiting… waiting for Obi-Wan…
Waiting for Darth Vader.
Sabine laid flat atop the rooftop, just west of Avenue One. Through the scope of her sniper rifle, she observed the twisting eastern alleyways of Subblock Three. That was her mark, alright- that empty courtyard. The small "courtyard" had obviously not been planned by any architect; it was a flat expanse of duracrete boxed in by an abandoned factory on its south side, the backend of a bridal department on its north side, and some old retaining walls on the east and west ends whose purpose had long been forgotten. The only entrance to the courtyard was through a narrow alleyway on the west end- that was where Obi-Wan would be running through. As for the Jedi's escape…
Knowing the Jedi Order's flair for theatrics? She mentally sighed. I'd bet fifty credits Kenobi's going to leap over the retaining wall on the east end. Hand it to the Jedi to make an escape plan that involves jumping at least four meters straight up into the air… and then over a meter-thick wall.
Sabine made the final adjustment to her scope, focusing the crosshairs on the center of the courtyard- she knew Padmé would do everything in her power to keep Vader in that spot, once the Sith Lord arrived.
"Target acquired," she mumbled as she locked the rifle's position, knowing Zeb heard her even though he didn't reply.
The Lasat was still using the cloaking device, as he couldn't fit into stormtrooper armor to disguise himself. Technically, Sabine could have worn her cloaking device, as well. But she'd taken a calculated risk: if a real Imperial saw a sniper rifle sitting abandoned on a rooftop, they'd know something was off. But if an Imperial saw a "stormtrooper"- Sabine Wren- beside the rifle, they'd assume she was part of the Empire Day security measures.
Hopefully….
After last night's fiasco, it was clear that up close, her stolen armor was good as nothing. Without the updated ID codes given to the stormtroopers for Empire Day, Sabine's disguise was worthless. Up close, her outdated ID code would give her away in a heartbeat, but from a distance... all any trooper would see was another mask in the crowd.
Theoretically.
Sabine shifted slightly. Lying on her stomach in plastoid armor was hardly comfy.
Speaking of which…
She pulled on the equally uncomfortable helmet. She'd justified taking it off to adjust the scope, but now it was too much of a risk.
She glanced at her chronometer. Six-thirty AM. Two and a half hours until the parade began…
If she hadn't been so terrified, she might have gotten bored.
But as it was, she simply stared through her scope, watching Obi-Wan appear in the distant courtyard… watching him plant the small bombs at a blind corner in the alleyway…
Sabine had created those four small charges specifically for Obi-Wan.
"If these bombs were to place Vader in mortal peril," Obi-Wan had argued, "he'd sense the danger and turn back, instead of following me through the alley and into the courtyard. But if the charges are just strong enough to slow Vader down- without killing him- he'll most likely ignore the threat and continue to chase me."
Sabine had to admit, it was a real stroke of genius on the Jedi's part.
"Why even bother planting these if they're not going to kill Vader?" Sabine had asked.
"Because I need to slow him down." Obi-Wan replied. "He'll be right behind me when I run into the courtyard. I need to delay him, even by a few seconds, so that I can escape the courtyard before Vader arrives. And once Vader does arrive…"
"You'll be gone, and Padmé will be waiting for him." Sabine nodded. "Not bad, Master Jedi."
And then I'll take my shot….
Her hands tightened around the sniper rifle. The clock was ticking… and somehow, two and a half hours didn't seem like enough time in the world….
*** EMPIRE DAY: 9 AM.
Obi-Wan Kenobi stood near Avenue One. He felt the duracrete beneath his boots shudder as a mechanical foot slammed atop the road. Although Obi-Wan could not yet see the AT-ATs approaching, he could certainly hear them- and feel the ground tremble beneath their distant feet.
One last time, he mentally reviewed everyone's positions.
Hera was one subblock south of them- she was waiting in an open shopping center, of all places. When the time came for them to make their escape, Hera would signal her droid Chopper. Chopper, locking onto the homing beacon in Hera's comlink, would fly the Ghost to her. Hera would hop in, and fly the Ghost herself the last subblock. The dicey rescue of her crew would require a human pilot.
Padmé was waiting in the courtyard in Subblock Three. A hot twinge of guilt panged Obi-Wan's gut, but he shoved it down.
Too late now for second thoughts….
Sabine and Zeb were in position on the rooftop west of Avenue One. Sabine's sniper rifle was charged and ready.
Ezra and Kanan were lurking in a storefront farther down the Avenue, cloaking devices turned on. Like Obi-Wan, they were simply waiting for the chaos to ensue- a chaos that, Force permitting, would lure Vader out of the Imperial Palace.
Obi-Wan resisted the urge to fiddle with his own cloaking device. It was turned on, and the invisible Jedi wanted nothing more than to rip it off and get this whole blasted mission over with. He'd waited long enough.
Ten years… ten years of this nightmare. Ten years of Vader haunting my every waking moment.
Please, sweet Force- one way or another, just let this end.
The ground was not just shuddering, but shaking now. The din of the AT-ATs' metal footsteps echoed across Coruscant's steel skyscrapers. Obi-Wan almost clapped his hands over his ears, his temples pounding at the thunderous sound.
Thud… Thud… THUD… THUD!...
Obi-Wan dared to stare out into the avenue. His jaw dropped. The towering machines were so tall, he was forced to crane his neck to even look above their "knees." Had he not been a Jedi Master, his own knees would have gone weak.
The sort of carnage these things could produce… And if they were put in Vader's hands…
He swallowed tightly. It was now or never.
The AT-ATs edged nearer… Obi-Wan leaned forward in anticipation, sweat pooling in his palms…
Steady, now… Steady… just a few more steps, Sabine, don't press the detonator yet!
Just as the shadow of the first AT-AT fell across him, the machine's neck exploded in a glorious fireball.
The AT-AT's heavy head was hurled forward from the force of the explosion; stormtroopers screamed as the burning metal dove toward them. An ear-grating crunnnnncchhh echoed through the avenue as the hunk of steel skidded across the street.
Obi-Wan thought the explosion was over, but no, Sabine had arranged the light show with her usual dramatic flair. Green and magenta sparks suddenly shot up from the decapitated AT-AT's body. The sparks lept high into the air, and a moment later, Obi-Wan realized these were firecrackers. Two intertwined trails of colorful sparks leapt into the air; with a thunderous crack, they burst apart into a shower of red lights. Red lights that formed the shape of the signature Rebel Alliance starbird.
Deciding this was the moment to make his entrance, Obi-Wan turned off his cloaking device. The Jedi leapt high into the air, soaring above the astonished stormtroopers. He was halfway to the ground before the first Imperials started firing.
His lightsaber was barely more than a blue whirl of light as he spun, deflecting the blaster bolts directly back at the stormtroopers. The Imperials attempted to rush him; they were interrupted by the timely arrival of Kanan and Ezra.
The troops fell back, but only momentarily. Within thirty seconds they had regrouped, moving to encircle the Jedi. There were hundreds of stormtroopers, and their sheer numbers might have overwhelmed the Jedi under different circumstances. But for once, the odds were on the Jedi's side.
One more AT-AT exploded, the metal head bursting apart from the body, the former piece sailing straight toward the circle of stormtroopers. The Jedi leapt out of the way in time. Many stormtroopers were not so lucky.
The pattern was repeated, a second AT-AT, then a third, exploding each time the troopers began to regroup. Each time, the explosion was accompanied by red fireworks forming the Rebel Alliance's official symbol.
If this doesn't catch Vader's attention, I don't know what will.
Obi-Wan didn't know how long he fought there, back-to-back with Kanan and Ezra. What he did know was that sweat was soaking his brow, his muscles burned under the exertion, and there were so many fallen stormtroopers that he struggled not to stumble on the bodies.
Suddenly, the stormtroopers peeled back to the edges of the road, leaving the center of the avenue completely empty, save for the Jedi. Obi-Wan spun around- and suddenly, he realized why the troops had retreated.
Darth Vader had arrived.
Obi-Wan turned on his heel and ran for his life.
Kenobi! Vader's mind snarled. His metal legs pounded against the duracrete avenues, his harsh breathing increasing in tempo. The Sith Lord's heavy lightsaber was clenched in his fist, the blood-red blade dying to be ignited, to plunge itself into the Jedi's pounding heart.
You. She is dead because of you. Vader knew he could never wash his hands of his beloved Padmé's death. And yet, it was Kenobi who had dragged her from her home, who forced her onto the volcanic world of Mustafar, to make pleas on the Jedi's behalf. Had she never been there, in the dark fortress…
And now Kenobi had the audacity to use her memory as his shield; to somehow drag a ghost, an echo of her presence onto Coruscant with him. For Padmé's presence was close, close, ever closer as Vader tore through the alleyways like a wraith.
His limbs trembled, the dark side racing through him like a drug. The Sith found his surroundings melting away into a red haze. Only fractured pieces of Kenobi were in view- the edge of the Jedi's ragged cloak as he dove around a corner, the sound of his leather boots skidding against the crumbling stone streets.
Vader whirled around one blind corner, then a second, a third, terror slicing through him like a knife as he realized that Kenobi was out of sight- the Sith's one chance to avenge his loved one was slipping through his fingers-
A terrible crash sounded dead ahead, just out of sight in the twisting back alleys. A wave of heat rolled across Vader as he realized, too late, that Kenobi had led him on. This detonation had been pre-mediated by the Jedi.
A cloud of dirt and fire rose from the corner just ahead, blowing back over Vader. The Dark Lord summoned the fury surging up within him. He twisted the deadly energy into a Force shield, guarding himself from the knife-sharp shrapnel cutting toward him- and every second felt a lifetime long as Vader tracked Kenobi's presence, sensing the Jedi's growing distance, the coward's retreat!
It had been mere moments since the explosion's first blast when Vader hastily released his shield, charging around the corner and through the flames. He felt the heat sear his skin, felt his leather suit reduced to ash in places, but he paid no head. Kenobi was escaping!
The orange fire that danced across his vision disappeared; Vader emerged into the clear cool air of Coruscant and-
He could not breathe. Despite the many failsafes in his life support suit, for a heartbeat, the cold air felt as distant as the stars.
His lips moved soundlessly. Yet the vocabulator in his suit had never cared what volume Vader spoke at, and it picked up the silent, wondrous word, forcing his synthesized voice to say it aloud: "Padmé?"
Sabine's heart stopped. Through her scope, she saw the explosion in the alleyway. She saw Obi-Wan rush through the courtyard, leaping over the far wall to escape. She saw Padmé suddenly appear as the widow deactivated her cloaking device.
This is it.
I can do this… I can do this.
The Dark Lord of the Sith stormed out of the explosion, rushing into the courtyard- and came to sudden halt, despite the deadly fire raging a meter behind him. It was like someone had flicked the "off" switch in Vader's suit.
Perfect.
Sabine's hands tightened around the sniper rifle, and she moved the weapon in miniscule, practiced motions as she centered Vader in the scope's crosshairs.
"Hey, you!" A harsh, filtered voice called from behind her.
Sabine jerked upright- and in slow motion, she saw three real stormtroopers emerge on the adjoining rooftop to her left. They jumped down onto her level.
"You don't have authorization to-" The lead trooper never finished his sentence- an invisible being named Zeb Orellios had just shoved him off the rooftop.
Sabine was about to turn back to her rifle, to quickly take the shot, when- her stomach flipped and her mouth ran dry- she realized the other stormtroopers hadn't been distracted by their commander's death. The two remaining troops had their blasters aimed squarely at Sabine's chest.
And the stormtroopers fired in unison.
Left with no choice, Sabine dove to the side; she screamed as two blaster bolts landed squarely in her calf. She drew a small hold-out blaster from her sleeve, firing back even as Zeb flung another stormtrooper off the roof.
Two carefully placed shots downed the stormtrooper, but three more troops arrived, no doubt belated reinforcements. Their firefight must have drawn the attention of the stormtroopers down at Avenue One. Glancing over the edge of the rooftop, Sabine saw five more stormtroopers head into the adjoining building, no doubt attempting to pin the rebels in a rooftop crossfire.
Sithspit!
"Zeb, cover me!" Sabine yelled over the blaster fire. Without waiting to see what he would do, Sabine dove onto her stomach, scrambling to reach the sniper rifle.
Padmé was here- here, before him! Vader trembled. Time ceased to exist. The flames at his back no longer burned.
His eyes, from behind his suit's red lenses, greedily drank in the sight of his wife. She wore a blue gown-
Her funeral dress, Vader realized in horror. The flowing dress pooled around her ankles like water; her long, silken curls fell freely over her shoulders. Her hair was laced with flowers, white blossoms, from an Ellia tree…
His eyes stung; he felt the hot tears roll down his cheeks. Flowers from an Ellia tree, the Nubian tree she had promised to bury Skywalker beneath, if he died before her in the Clone Wars… How many times had Vader wished he was buried there, instead of her!
"Padmé," he choked out, extending a gloved hand towards her. He took one faltering step, his knees threatening to give out beneath him…
"Do not touch me."
Vader froze; Padmé's sharp voice instantly freezing him in place. She was shaking, fists balled in her dress, her brown eyes welling with tears…
"I'm sorry," Vader managed to say, struggling to form a coherent thought. She was here- here, truly here!
And you are the reason she was gone.
"Padmé, I"m sorry," He began again, a wave of sorrow threatening to sweep him off his feet. A silent sob escaped him. His suit would not process such sounds; Padmé could not hear him weeping beneath the demonic mask. "I'm sorry."
Padmé was silent. She stared in disbelief, eyes flashing. "You're sorry?" She repeated. Coldly. A frigid tone Vader had never before heard her direct at him.
"For everything." he whispered brokenly. Every piece of him was screaming to rush forward, to hold her, comfort her-
"I said, don't move." She nearly growled, her voice rising. Vader realized he had stepped forward, his body moving of its own accord. Padmé tensed, preparing to step back-
"Wait!" He cried, stretching out his hand.
Don't leave me!
Padmé stretched out her own hand, as if that could keep him away. "No, stay back! Stay-" She began to back away.
A surge of adrenaline flooded through Vader, his stomach flipped as he realized she meant to leave. Calling on the Force to give him speed, Vader lunged for her; his body became light as a shadow, a wraith leaping to her side in less than a second. Time slowed as he reached for her. Padmé's eyes widened in shock, his towering visage was bare inches away.
Vader felt himself possessed by terror, a fear unlike any other as he reached for her, waiting for her ghost to vanish as his hands closed around her shoulders-
And she stayed.
Once again, Vader could not breathe. She was there, substantial, human, in his arms at last.
"Don't go," he begged, his grasp tightening. Padmé gaped up at him. Her jaw was slack, brown eyes wide, too stunned, it seemed, to speak.
"Padmé, I love you, I've never stopped loving you." Vader began, the words suddenly spilling out of him. "And I've been searching for you, every day, ever since- since-" He felt himself trembling. For a moment he was scared he would collapse, taking her with him. "It's my fault," he wept, "my fault that you- that you were killed. I can't… I can't tell you how sorry I am. I could never, never, atone for this." Desperately, one of his gloved hands cupped her cheek, his thumb gliding across her soft skin. "My love, I don't know how you are here, how it's even possible. But I swear to you, I will do anything you ask, anything. Just tell me what to do… please, Padmé, tell me how to save you, how to keep you here with me," Vader begged her unashamedly. His eyes searched his wife's, pleading with her.
Padmé stretched one small, trembling hand out towards him. "Anakin?" She whispered. He could feel her trembling in his grasp.
"I'm here," he answered. Gently, he brushed the back of his hand across her cheek, his heart aching with the familiar gesture.
Padmé's hand tentatively reached toward the side of his face. Vader bent down, obliging her, and was shocked to feel her finger tips touch his skin- not his mask, but the bare skin of his jaw.
Suddenly, Vader realized nearly half of his mask was missing; it had been destroyed in the explosion. It was no wonder he could barely breathe.
Padmé suddenly pulled her hand back, as if she'd been burned. Tears welled in her eyes as she covered her mouth with one hand, muffling her sobs.
"Anakin," she wept, rushing fully into his arms. Vader held her tightly, one hand buried in her curls, the other firmly wrapped around her back, stopping her from collapsing onto the cold streets.
"I'm here," he repeated, relief flooding through him. He didn't understand how- he didn't care how- Padmé was here, all that mattered was that she was. "Please, my love, tell me that you'll stay." Vader pleaded, needing to hear the words.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, the silent sobs still wracking her body.
Obi-Wan sprinted around the subblock, lungs burning, as he turned on his cloaking device. It had been a close call, but he'd escaped the courtyard; now he dashed around the subblock corner, following a long path that returned to Avenue One without passing through the courtyard.
Force permitting, Obi-Wan would arrive at Avenue One, then retrace his steps through the alleyways in Subblock Three, and re-enter the courtyard. By that point, Vader would be dead, and Padmé would be waiting for the Jedi Master to lead her to the rendezvous.
Obi-Wan knew that this was a long, tiresome route to take to the courtyard. But the Jedi feared that if he'd lingered just outside the courtyard, Vader would have sensed his presence… which would've turned the Sith Lord's attention away from Padmé.
Speaking of which- the Jedi could still sense the Sith Lord's presence. Unless the Force deceived him, Vader was still very much alive. Obi-Wan prayed that nothing had gone wrong.
As if his prayers had held the opposite effect, his emergency comlink chimed. Panting, Obi-Wan skidded to a stop.
"GENERAL! GENERAL, GET-"
"Zeb?!" Obi-Wan gasped in surprise.
"Stormtroopers swarming the rooftop! Need reinforcements-"
"I'm coming," Obi-Wan assured him as he shut off the comlink, sprinting at breakneck speeds toward the rooftop west of Avenue One…
"Zeb, cover me!" Sabine yelled over the blaster fire. Without waiting to see what he would do, Sabine dove onto her stomach, scrambling to reach her sniper rifle. She skidded to a halt, stared through the scope, realized it had been completely misaligned during the firefight-
Heart thundering, she swung the rifle to the right, searching for the courtyard Vader was in. The images rushed past her scope, building after building after building until-
What?
There was the courtyard, and there was Vader, but Padmé was in his arms. Snapping out of her surprise, Sabine realized this had to be Padmé's last ditch effort to distract the Sith Lord; Sabine lined up Vader in the crosshairs of her scope, finger slowly adding pressure to the trigger-
Sabine saw Padmé's face, streaked with tears, as the widow sobbed in Vader's arms.
And for a split second, Sabine hesitated. It wasn't a clean shot. Her stomach sunk.
I have to kill Padmé, too.
"Rebel scum!"
Sabine cried out as an armored hand gripped her short hair, yanking her to her feet. She spun around, attempting to swing her elbow into her attacker's face, but it was no use. A second pair of hands roughly grabbed her free arm, twisting it behind her. She bit back a gasp of pain, digging her teeth into her bottom lip. The two stormtroopers forced her to turn around.
Sabine's gaped. Two squadrons of stormtroopers, blasters raised, stood in a line on the rooftop. Zeb was being forced onto his knees, blood gushing down his temple; a nearby stormtrooper pressed a blaster muzzle to the Lasat's temple. The Imperial's free hand held the Rebel Alliance's pride and joy: one of their prototype cloaking devices.
"Cute gimmick," the trooper said, pocketing the device. "Lord Vader will be very interested in the technology behind this."
Trying to ignore her pulse pounding in her throat, she quickly invented, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. If those devices are brought out of this pre-assigned area, they'll explode."
"Sure they will," the stormtrooper flatly replied, locking a pair of binders around Zeb's thick arms.
As another stormtrooper marched up to Sabine, binders in hand, the rebel was shoved to her knees. She twisted as she fell, craning her neck and just managing to see over the ledge of the rooftop. Her heart sank. It wasn't good.
Kanan and Ezra, hands raised in surrender, were surrounded by endless platoons of stormtroopers. As Sabine watched, the Jedi were shoved onto their knees, and stormtroopers clamped binders around their wrists.
"In the name of the Galactic Empire," the stormtrooper beside Sabine announced, "you're under arrest."
And Vader's still alive….
No! Padmé's mind screamed. NO!
Her vision swam and blurred, tears obscuring the sight before her. The sight of Vader, his powerful hands wrapped around her shoulders, caging her in. The sight of his demonic mask, half of it blown away… and the hideous visage beneath it! A human face, stark white, burned- no, charred, charred black- in places, scars dragging across his face as if he'd been mauled by some beast. And his eyes- sickly yellow, sunken things, deep and wrinkled purple shadows set beneath them.
She knew this face. Or rather, she knew what this face had been ten years ago.
As if possessed, her hand lifted itself toward the side of his face. Of Vader's… Anakin's… face. Her fingertips glanced across his rough skin, damp from his tears- and she snatched her hand back abruptly. She'd felt it: his scar from the Clone Wars, the one that ran beside his right eye. It was nearly invisible, buried beneath dark burns and deeper scars… but it was there.
That's when it hit her. This man- this disfigured murderer- was her husband. Her Anakin. She pressed a hand over her mouth, desperately trying to muffle her sobs.
He lied. Obi-Wan lied to me.
Anakin is alive.
On instinct, not realizing what she'd done until she'd done it, she rushed into Anakin's arms. He clung to her, stroking her hair, her back, refusing to let go.
"I'm here," he assured her, holding her tighter, so tight she could barely breathe. "Please my love, tell me that you'll stay."
Her heart pounded. Anakin, her Anakin, was here, alive, and-
Horror flooded through her, and her knees went weak.
Sabine! Sabine is going to kill him, oh gods- what do I do?!
Why hasn't she killed him yet?
What do I do?!
Force help me, I don't know what I'm supposed to do!
"Anakin- I- I-" she stammered, her voice raw. Suddenly her legs gave way beneath her and she collapsed; Vader dove to his knees, catching her before she hit the shrapnel filled street.
She buried her face in his chest, arms wrapped tight around his waist as she wept for her husband.
You know what you're supposed to do, a quiet, rational voice whispered in her mind. Padmé sobbed harder, not wanting to listen to it, but unable to shut it out.
You know what you're supposed to do. You know what Obi-Wan ordered you to do if Sabine couldn't take the shot.
You know the outcome that the rebels are risking their life for.
Darth Vader's death.
She felt, more vividly than ever before, the cold hilt of the dagger concealed beneath her sleeve. Obi-Wan's contingency plan.
She clung to Anakin as the sobs wracked her body. She tightened her arms around his waist, and with slow, trembling hands, removed the dagger from its hidden scabbard.
Anakin simply held her, his gloved hands stroking her hair, her back, cupping her neck and wrapping around her waist.
Padmé felt her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
I'm sorry, Anakin, I'm sorry, I love you, I love you so much, I love you I love you I love you-
Shuddering, not even able to keep the dagger in her hand steady, she set the tip of the knife against the small of his back.
I'm sorry, my love, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I love you-
I love you-
I love you….
"Oh, I can't, I can't," she wailed, the dagger falling from her limp hand.
Obi-Wan, still invisible, barreled into Avenue One, nearly knocking over a pair of stormtroopers as he arrived. Trying not to gasp for air, he scanned the rooftops. He couldn't hear blaster fire anymore, which was a bad sign.
That's it- that's the rooftop where Sabine should be, he realized, staring straight at it. But neither Sabine nor Zeb was there. Not even a stormtrooper was present on the rooftop.
His stomach sank.
I'm too late.
Whirling around, Obi-Wan scanned the quiet avenue, searching for Ezra and Kanan. Neither Jedi was in sight. Only the stormtroopers, quietly treated their wounded, remained.
No… no, they can't all be gone, his mind cried out. But hadn't he thought the same thing about the Jedi, after Order 66?
Obi-Wan, still unseen thanks to his cloaking device, quietly made his way down the center of the avenue. He scanned the rooftops, the storefronts, the alleyways, everywhere the rebels might have been hiding. He quickened his pace at the sound of a landspeeder activating.
Could it be?
It was! There, half hidden behind a protruding storefront, was an Imperial prison transport. Obi-Wan moved as quickly as he dared, given the stormtroopers swarming the avenue; then the Jedi broke into a sprint as he saw the slight figure of Sabine Wren shoved into the back of the dark speeder. The doors slammed shut behind her as the speeder pulled out. Obi-Wan sprinted after the vehicle. It sped away, leaving the Jedi in the dust.
Not one to give up, Obi-Wan called upon the Force to enhance his speed, and for a few precious seconds, Obi-Wan gained ground. He breathed raggedly, watching the prison transport accelerate-
Thinking quickly, Obi-Wan reached into his belt and pulled out a tracking device. He threw it; it flew through the air and landed squarely on the back of the vehicle.
The Jedi Master dropped to his knees, exhausted.
When he thought he'd be able to speak, he pulled out his comlink.
"Hera," he murmured, throat raw.
"General. Ready for extraction?" Hera crisply replied.
"No," Obi-Wan said heavily. "Your crew is alive, but they were captured by stormtroopers. And I can sense that Vader survived the assassination attempt."
"No," Hera whispered.
"I'm so sorry," The Jedi Master hoarsely replied. And he meant it. "Stay where you are. I'll meet you at your location and we'll return to the Good Omens."
"General- is there… are we going to attempt a rescue, sir?" Hera asked thickly, clearly trying to remain professional.
"We'll do everything we can," Obi-Wan assured her. "But that may mean leaving Coruscant, and returning with reinforcements."
"Understood, sir," Hera whispered tightly.
"May the Force be with you," Obi-Wan said, ending the call.
The Jedi Master fought against his exhaustion, and climbed to his feet.
Vader is alive.
And what of Padmé?
All of his instincts told him that if Vader was alive, then Padmé would not have escaped.
But I will not abandon her.
Pressing aside his weariness, Obi-Wan began the long run back to the courtyard in Subblock Three.
Out of the corner of his eye, Vader saw something made of metal fall out of Padmé's small hand, but he paid no head. His full attention was turned to the woman in his arms.
"I can't..." she wept against his chest.
Vader fought the panic rising within him. "Padmé, you can- you can stay here with me; I'll help you, beloved. You don't need to rely on your own powers to appear, not anymore. Just tell me what to do-"
With a dull, splitting ache in her chest, Padmé realized what Anakin meant. He'd misunderstood her cries- of course he had; he didn't know she'd nearly murdered him.
He thinks I'm a ghost.
Swallowing tightly, she played into the illusion. The lie. "I can't stay, Anakin, not here, not now-" She said in a small voice, barely meeting his eyes.
"I will do anything-" he began to protest, tightening his hold on her.
She jolted upright at the last word.
Anything- Anything.
She had an idea.
"Tonight." She interrupted Vader, her wide eyes lifting to meet his.
Vader immediately fell silent, committing each word she spoke to memory.
Padmé softly pushed away from him, gesturing to his belt. "Do you have a passkey to your castle- the one here on Coruscant?" She asked, her voice suddenly strong, impassioned.
"Here," Vader swiftly handed it to her. Padmé took it, softly squeezing his fingertips as she pulled her hand away.
"Meet me there tonight at midnight- midnight exactly. I can't stay any longer than that." Padmé warned him.
"I swear to you, I will be there." Vader vowed. His eyes roamed over her figure, desperately seeking to memorize her form before she disappeared.
"Come alone." She murmured, her parting words to him.
Gently, Padmé pulled his hands away from her, and this time Vader didn't protest. He simply watched her, burning her ghostly visage into his mind as she turned away. Her blue gown dragged across the shrapnel on the ground, pulling it along with her as she slowly glided farther down the alley. She bent over briefly, and Vader saw her pick up what she had dropped earlier-
A dagger? Vader wondered, as Padmé concealed it beneath her sleeve. His wife continued on her path, removing a worn black cloak from a nearby crate. She wrapped it around herself, then turned to him.
"Midnight, my lord." She reminded him. "Alone."
Vader nodded. Padmé pulled up the hood of her dark cloak, draping herself in shadow. Then she abruptly turned to the right, into the darkened opening of an abandoned workshop. She stepped into the shadows, fading from sight… Vader stretched out his senses in the Force, tracing her presence. She was still there, in the mouth of the dark storefront, but… where? He could no longer see her, nor could he hear her footsteps, not even the whisper of her funeral gown dragging across the duracrete.
Vader felt, but didn't see or hear, her presence approach him… coming closer… closer still…
He stretched a hand towards where he felt her presence to be- and flinched. A ghostly hand, unable to be seen, brushed across his own. But he felt Padmé squeeze his hand softly as her presence passed by him. And then her touch faded, and her presence retreated, and Vader was alone in the scorched alley. The only sound was the flames still flickering along the duracrete, back where the bombs had nearly killed him.
Padmé, he was convinced, had saved him.
Trembling, Vader forced himself to rise from his knees. There was much he did not understand- why Padmé had donned her cloak and dagger before leaving him, or even why a ghost would need a key- but he brushed those thoughts aside. He could think of explanations easily enough: the cloak and dagger were symbols of espionage, she might have shown it to him as a warning, a precursor of sorts, of what she was going to ask of him. As for the key, it was obvious she didn't need it to physically enter his palace; but perhaps apparitions needed a sign of trust, or permission, to enter a home- or at least, the home of a powerful Force-wielder.
Midnight. With a jolt, Vader realized how little time he had. He had to deal with the rebels and Jedi, and report to his master before midnight. And Vader would likely have to deal with his master's punishment, as well, before he was dismissed. Without another thought, Vader ran out of the alley, forgetting about his damaged mask, forgetting about the shrapnel that had pierced his knees when he'd fallen to the ground. Padmé was waiting for him… and if he was not there for her, she would not be able to stay.
He might never see her again….
Tears streamed down Padmé's face as she sprinted out of the alleyway, dodging stormtroopers she barely registered seeing as she ran down the main avenue, trusting the cloaking device to keep her presence concealed.
Obi-Wan lied.
He lied.
He lied to me.
He lied to me about Anakin.
It was a long time before Padmé realized she didn't know where she was running to. She paused, panting, staring at her surroundings. She'd headed south, thank the gods, away from the Imperial Palace.
What now?
She was stranded. She had no idea where the rebels' rendezvous point was; Obi-Wan hadn't told her- he'd been worried Vader would read her mind and figure out their plan. She'd been counting on Obi-Wan to return for her in the courtyard once Vader was dead, but…
Padmé muffled a small, broken sob, sinking to the ground. She pressed her head between her knees, trying to breathe… trying to think.
Obi-Wan ignored the stitch in his side, skidding to a stop in the alley leading to the courtyard. He leaned against the rough duracrete wall, trying to draw air into his taxed lungs. He couldn't sense Padmé or Vader in the courtyard ahead. Still, the Jedi Master refused to leave until he saw, with his own eyes, that the courtyard was empty.
Obi-Wan walked through every inch of the courtyard twice over, knowing that no one else was there, but unwilling to relinquish this last bit of hope.
At last, the Jedi forced himself to stop. He had other responsibilities, the most urgent of which was the rebel pilot, Hera Syndulla, who was waiting for him several subblocks away. But that didn't stem the flow of hot, bitter tears rolling down Obi-Wan's cheeks.
He had failed- he had failed the Ghost crew, the Rebel Alliance, even the galaxy at large. But what stung more than anything was that he had failed his oldest friend… again.
Too little, too late… as always.
Slowly and deliberately, Padmé calmed her racing heart. She could cry all she liked later. But unless she could think quickly- think quickly right now- before long, she'd be crying in a cell reserved for rebel operatives. Or even worse- she'd be locked away in some secret chamber in Vader's… in Anakin's… castle on Coruscant, with no one but her husband for company….
Presumably forever.
She shuddered.
I'm not going to think about that. Not right now. Not right now.
Later.
When it's safe, and I can claw Obi-Wan's eyes out.
Padmé laughed a bit hysterically at that last thought. Then she firmly pinched herself.
No time for tears.
She took a deep, steadying breath, smoothing out her hair, despite the ache in her heart.
Midnight. She'd bought herself time, but she only had until midnight to get herself offworld, get to the rebel rendezvous, or get to Vader's castle. Carefully, Padmé weighed the options.
First, the obvious choice: getting offworld.
But where would I go?
A small, truthful voice answered: Nowhere Vader's won't find me. Nowhere he wouldn't be willing to destroy, if it would bring me out of hiding.
Padmé shuddered. Vader would- Anakin had already- practically burnt down half the cosmos trying to save her. And now he had an Empire at his disposal to help him do it.
No, she decided. Running from him now would be beyond stupid…. Stupid both in regards to her own fate, and the fate of the galaxy.
She could, of course, look for the rebel rendezvous. That was her second option.
Try finding a hidden meeting place that could be anywhere on this entire planet…
She didn't have a comlink, nor did she know any of the rebels' comm numbers. It wasn't like she could call and ask where the rendezvous point was. And searching for the rendezvous on foot would mean dodging stormtroopers- and risking another encounter with Vader.
She shivered in her thin, silken dress, but she knew it wasn't because of the cold.
Even if she managed to avoid Anakin and his stormtroopers… what then? Her heart sank as she thought it through.
They've probably left without me.
She only knew two things about the rebels' escape plan. The rendezvous was somewhere on Coruscant that wasn't the Good Omens- they'd let her know they wouldn't be returning once they left for the parade. And, once Vader was dead, the rebels would leave Coruscant immediately.
She fought down the hot tears welling in her eyes. Obi-Wan had promised to return for her once Vader was dead. He'd promised to rescue her, to bring her to the rendezvous, but…
But Sabine never took the shot.
Padmé's stomach dropped.
What if she's dead? What if Obi-Wan left me to try and save her? What if everyone's dea-
She buried her face in her hands.
Regardless of the reason why… she wouldn't be finding the rebels' rendezvous point any time soon.
Which left her one option. Vader's castle.
It was his words- "I will do anything"- that had inspired her plan. Anakin would do anything she asked; even if she asked him to kill the Emperor.
Would he?
If she promised to stay with him- and made him swear to never try and learn how she'd first appeared- would he kill the Emperor? Would he hand control over to the Rebel Alliance?
Padmé took a deep breath. It was an impossible question to ask if she was thinking about Darth Vader. It was, however, something she could ask of Anakin Skywalker. If she thought this through slowly, and carefully, she might actually have a chance to make things right... to a degree. To what degree, she didn't know.
But I can do something… I know I can.
If she didn't, she'd go crazy.
Padmé didn't know how long she sat there in the cold road, unseen, simply thinking.
He wouldn't want to abandon the Empire.
She knew that, given their conversation on Mustafar. Padmé shivered, blocking out that memory, turning to the reason she'd thought of it in the first place. He wouldn't want to abandon the Empire- but would he allow her to rule at his side? Would he give her true power within the government?
She felt certain he would.
And what then? Could she right things from the inside out, create an empire in name, but a republic in reality?
Anakin would help her, if he thought that was what she wanted. If he thought that would make her stay. She felt sure of that.
But how long could that arrangement last? What if Anakin realized she wasn't a ghost, that she'd lied to him, used him, even?
I'm not using him, her mind automatically responded. I love him. I love him enough that I stupidly, stupidly saved his life….
But would he see it that way?
She hesitated. Should she… should she tell him the truth? Everything? Her miscarriage, her coma, her brief stint with the Rebel Allia-
With a jolt, Padmé realized her mistake.
Miscarriage?
Obi-Wan had told her that her unborn son, Jinn, hadn't survived. Her lips twisted. Obi-Wan had told her that.
Obi-Wan did not have a spectacular track record of honesty.
What if…
No.
Even if… even if what Obi-Wan had told her wasn't true... even if she'd given birth to a healthy son or daughter… her child was safer if she believed that he or she- or even they- were dead. That way, the Emperor couldn't find them.
Her heart sunk.
The Emperor.
Oh gods, she'd forgotten about him.
Palpatine would search for her child, if he knew Padmé was alive.
Vader would never let the Emperor take her child away.
Was this it, then? The deciding factor? The safety of her child?
Tears began to flow anew as she thought of her baby. Her child would be ten years old now, her little Jinn or Kiné. She had no memories of what her baby looked like. She didn't have any memory of giving birth, all she could remember was-
"Save my baby, please, just save him, we're wasting time…."
Obi-Wan rushed over to soothe her-
And then... nothing. All she could picture was blank, white, fuzzy nothingness. And then blackness, a different type of memory- a blurred memory of her nearly endless coma.
Could Obi-Wan have…? Her stomach twisted.
Could he have sunk so low?
Had Obi-Wan altered her memories, used some sort of Jedi trick to make her forget the birth of her child?
She didn't know. Padmé wasn't sure she wanted to know. But if Obi-Wan had erased or obscured her memories, it was possible another Force-user would be able to uncover them.
Now… are you going to go backpacking around the galaxy until Emperor Palpatine captures you, tortures you, and pulls the fate of your child from your memories?
Or are you going to do what you can to prevent that? To protect Jinn, or Kiné?
Her feet started moving before she realized she'd made a decision. It took her a moment, but Padmé realized where she was walking as the silhouette of Vader's castle slowly grew larger in the skyline...
