Disclaimer: As I've staded before, in every single chapter, I don't own Star Wars.
A/N.: Bonus chapter just because it was ready and I feel like it! This doesn't have much action, see it sort of as an interlude, so it's mainly just the feels, which, if you couldn't tell, is actually what I enjoy writing the most LOL. I hope you guys enjoy and leave a comment! :)
Time
That was the night that her children were born. As they lay in their small cribs and she watched them sleep, Padmé wondered, how was it possible something so incredibly pure and beautiful had come to the world in such a night? A night filled with such pain, blood and despair?
She'd never forget it; she'd never be able to erase from her mind what she saw that night.
Padmé truly did not want it to happened, she remembered screaming. She remembered saying no, begging for him to not give in, almost pleading for him to kill her. But as she gazed upon her perfect children she knew that nothing would ever be enough to repay Obi-Wan Kenobi for his sacrifice, for what he had done to save her family. Not only her and her children, but Anakin as well.
So often she closed her eyes and remembered what he did on Tatooine all those years ago; so often did she excuse him and tell herself he was in an untold amount of pain; so often she told herself that it wasn't him; that it would never happen again, that he was not in his right mind.
So often she deceived herself.
But Obi-Wan did not deceive himself; he didn't have the luxury of doing so. So she watched as he did the unthinkable; she watched as he lost himself to the very thing he fought to destroy, she watched as one of her dearest friends gave his soul for the only family he had ever known.
And then she looked back as she was dragged away from him and she saw him as he knelt before the Emperor; she heard as he vowed to submit to his teachings and obey his commands.
Her heart broke as she watched as Obi-Wan Kenobi perished and she cried for the loss of her friend; for the loss of the man who was as much part of her family as her husband and her children and the pain was too much to endure.
Later she found herself alone, a droid cooed her softly as she gave birth to her children, and she remembered how it rained so much outside, and how the sky was often lit by lighting.
She saw Luke first; and then she held Leia. Rays of sunshine in the midst of all that darkness. As she saw them she kept crying, crying of sorrow and happiness; crying out of despair and hope.
Then time had passed and things had changed.
Her cell was traded by a luxurious home away from the city center; it was a more secluded part of Coruscant; one she was not familiar with.
The day she was sent there was another one that would be etched into her mind. The place had a view to a garden that surrounded her from all sides, and she saw no other people, only the speeders in the distance and the faint lights of the city.
She walked into the house. Unlike most of the construction in Corsucant, the building it was not a tall one, though it clearly stood on the high levels of the city. Her home new occupied two entire floors, for some reason she suspected the few levels above her were empty. Everything she owned was there: the furniture from her old home, her dresses and jewlery, the things she had bought for her babies; even the robes that Anakin always kept in her closet
She held the worn out cloak against her chest, hoping he would be alright, hoping that the sacrifices made on his behalf would not be in vain and hoping she'd see him again, that one day she could see the look on his face as he saw their beautiful children for the first time; she hoped she'd see him smile again and that she could touch him once more.
And as she held the only thing of her husband she had left, she looked over to the beautiful garden that surrounded her new home, and she watched as the ray shield activated around it and gave the sky a white cast of light,.
Padmé knew that, despite not being in a cell and being surrounded by all the luxuries credits could buy, despite being able to go and lie on the grass, she was still a prisoner, and so were her children.
She settled into her strange new life and soon she discovered that time passed by very slowly when one is alone. Her only company was her faithful droid: Threepio ran around the house, doing whatever needed to be done and he kept her company as much as he was able to. Once a week he gathered the supplies they and it was the only time the doors to her new prison ever opened. She often glimpsed the troopers stationed outside. But they were the only people she ever saw.
The garden and kitchen droids were nothing like Threepio, surely being assembled in a production line made them lack the personality and human like traits Anakin had given to his own creation.
The babies kept her busy for the most part; but at night, once they were sleeping and the droids shut off, all Padmé had was the background sound of the heavily censored Holonet. And that was even more unbearable than the loneliness.
Journalists spewed news about the betrayal of the Jedi and celebrated their swift executions. Of course the propaganda omitted that there was no sort of trial and praised the new Emperor for the swift action against the traitors and his overwhelming victory against the Separatist.
Late at night, the faces of the still living Jedi were paraded, with bounties placed under it. Their evil deeds put on display: they were murderers, they plotted to overthrow the Chancellor, they plotted to assassinate him and takeover the Senate and an endless current of lies.
The first time she saw Anakin in those images her heart sank. The absurd amount that was the bounty on his head flashed incessantly under his beautiful face; the reported claimed he, along with Yoda and Windu, had been the masterminds of the coup. But, despite now being aware that her husband was now one of the most wanted man in the Galaxy, Padmé had to take solace in the fact that, at least, he was alive.
Soon she desisted on watching anything at all and often spent her sleepless nights in the twins' room, watching them breathe peacefully in their slumber, and often she cried, longing for freedom and her lover's warm embrace.
As for Obi-Wan, she did not see him for quite some time. But eventually he came, on the day the twins turned one month old, she woke up early in the morning and, as she left her room, a dark figure sat on her sofa and stared at the bright green grass outside, with his back turned to her. She would never believe it was him, all dressed in black as he was. No, Obi-Wan had always been light rather than darkness. If not for the auburn locks that adorned his head she would never have recognized him.
"Obi-Wan?" She dared call out and he looked back. He was eerily the same, but so very different. There was a sadness in his eyes that was not there before, and they were different. Their brightness was gone and a yellow hue covered the beautiful and almost transparent blue that used to look at her before.
Yet Padmé didn't care, what he was he had become for Anakin, for Luke, for Leia, and all Padmé could do was love her friend regardless, so she ran across the room and she hugged him, burying her face in his chest and staining his black robes with her tears. "Are you alright?" she asked and felt his hands on her back, but his touch was cold and distant.
"Yes," his soft and familiar voice answered and then he held her shoulders and pushed her away from his embrace. He looked straight into her teary eyes, as if searching for something that he could not find. "Are you and the children alright?"
She nodded and felt his touch abandon her. He picked something up from the small table and held it in his hands. "Good. I don't know when I will return, but I'll come check on you when I can."
And, as he turned to leave, Padmé grabbed his arm. "Please stay. The twins are one month old today and Threepio is baking a cake to celebrate." Padmé paused and her words said something with a meaning far beyond the literal one. "You don't have to go, Obi-Wan."
He smiled a smile filled with sorrow and he took her hand from his arm, squeezing it within his gloved one. "Yes, I do."
Obi-Wan let go of Padmé's hand, he pulled his hood over his head and placed a mask on his face, covering his mouth and nose. Only his eyes peeked through all the darkness surrounding them, their yellowish color contrasting with all the blackness, and, even before he left, Obi-Wan Kenobi was out of her sight.
Time was a funny thing. And all Anakin had those days was time; like he'd never had before. In that Force-forsaken rock there was nothing to occupy him, no slaver to order him around, no mother to make him do his shores, no Master to drag him from one lesson to another, no war to fight.
All there was was time.
Time to think, to reflect, to mourn. Time to analyze his mistakes, time to meditate, time to search the Force for answers and so, so much time to wait.
As it went by the seasons began to change; in the beginning the air was dry and hot; nights were easy and starry. Now, the first glimpses of cold began settling, the morning frost would ice around them and the nights were cold and unwelcoming.
And as it changed the seasons, time also had a way of changing people.
That night when he felt his Master's presence disappear into nothing and saw Padmé's face in agony he had been so angry; so incredibly and painfully angry.
Images of him slaying Palpatine constantly flashed in his mind; he imagined himself cutting his head from his shoulders, he imagined how he would choke him with his bare hands, or how he'd just beat him to death.
But then the days came and went, and he slept and awoke and ate and drank and bathed in the cold waters of the river. And as he did something within him changed, he was so tired of being angry, he was so tired, so exhausted.
He was tired of being filled with the need for revenge; it had been eating away at him. It was consuming him and depriving him of his sanity.
Anakin thought and thought; he barely spoke, he barely listened to anyone other than his own mind and he realized he had been angry for so long; he had been angry all his life. He'd been angry at Watto for being his slaver, he'd been angry at his mother for letting him go, he'd been angry at Obi-Wan for his brutal honesty, at the Jedi Order for not trusting him and not giving him the recognition he thought he deserved, at the Separatists for the war, at Ahsoka for leaving him, at Palpatine for betraying him and taking his Master and his family, at the clones for turning on the Jedi.
Anakin was angry at himself for being angry.
Yet now, that he had time, he realized he was so incredibly tired of being angry.
So, as time did with all things, it changed him.
One day, Anakin was not angry. He was just sad, so painfully and unbelievably sad.
And, somehow, he finally realized that anger and vengeance would do nothing to abate the emptiness that had settled within him; it would not bring his mother back, or Obi-Wan, or Padmé, or his unborn child.
Finally it dawned on him that he would never see them again, that, no matter what he did, they were gone forever and it was so unbearably heart wrenching that he did not find strength within him to be angry anymore.
It was a night like any other when he found himself in their makeshift shelter, built with the remnants of wreckage from the ships, with Ahsoka and Rex for company. They sat around a fire, Rex had long drifted to sleep, and he found himself with his former apprentice, in silence, staring at the cackling flames that would warm them through the cold night.
He looked at her intently, actually seeing her for the first time in so long, buried as he had been in his own sorrow. Finally, he realized that she was just as sad as he was and that she had lost just as much as he had and Anakin knew that, despite having lost so much, he had not lost it all.
Maybe he didn't have to be broken hearted alone.
After all, they still had each other, and while they had each other, they could fight. They would do it together, as they always had. He was not sure how or even why, he wasn't certain he would ever have the strength to fight for anything again, but if he ever did, he did not have to do it alone.
Anakin rummaged through the small pouch on his belt; it had been so long since she left, but he had always carried it with him; never finding in himself to leave it behind or throw it away; never finding the will to let go.
He held the string of beads in his palm, the symbol of his connection with his Padawan, the physical evidence of their friendship. He searched inside his mind, their bond remained intact despite everything. For the first time in so long Anakin reached into the Force and slightly tugged at it, sending her a call, as he had done so many times before.
Ahsoka's eyes widened and she looked at him, surprised, as if she had forgotten it was there. He had almost forgotten it. He managed to smile at her, it was not an exuberant smile, not even a joyful one, but it was the best he could muster.
He held the beads in his hand as his smile faded. "There is so much I haven't told you." He said, finally. "I should have. I kept so many secrets that I became buried in them and it almost cost me everything. But I realize now, that I didn't lose everything. Obi-Wan is gone, Padmé and our child are gone. But you're not gone. You're still here."
Anakin watched as a tear slid down Ahsoka's cheek. "I'll always be here, Master."
"I know." The Jedi smiled again. "And I will always be here."
Anakin held out his hand and showed her the beads she had placed in his hand so long ago. "Will you come back? Please?"
Ahsoka looked at the string laid on her Master's palm and she took them and placed them on her head, where they used to be. "I've never really left."
He watched Padmé leave, dragged away by the guard. He watched as the door closed behind her, snuffing away the sound of her voice that kept calling his name.
Was it even his name anymore?
He stared at the door, unwilling to look away. He thought he should feel some kind of relief for keeping his promise to Anakin, after all, he had always been a man of his word.
But what he felt was anything but relief.
What he felt was… emptiness?
"Lord Menis?" He heard a fatherly tone spoken in an acid, coarse voice. The voice of his new Master.
"Lord Menis?" It spoke once more, but somehow it didn't seem like it was directed at him, for some reason, he didn't seem to recognize the name.
The voice said the name for the third time, this time more demanding, definitely imperative. "Lord Menis!" It shouted and he realized that was who he was now.
He was not Obi-Wan Kenobi, he was not a Jedi Master.
Now he went by a different name: Darth Menis, Dark Lord of the Sith.
Finally he tore away his eyes from the door and looked at Sidious, acknowledging that he was really that thing. "Yes?" He replied, feeling his voice break.
The Sith Lord glowered at him, chastising him. He knew why. "Yes, Master?" He corrected himself and the Sith smiled warmly, placing a gentle yet ice-cold hand on his elbow.
The new Sith apprentice felt himself in some sort of state of stasis as he was being led by Darth Sidious. He heard him speak to him, but could barely register what was being said. As they crossed the room to the exit, his eyes fixed on the floor and he looked at the bodies of the children he had just slain.
They were so small.
He kept looking back at them, hardly processing that it was his handiwork, and yet painfully aware of it.
His Master kept pushing forward, and they reached a corridor and, as he still looked back, the door closed again, blocking those children from his view.
He should feel sympathy, pain, but there was nothing.
Averting his eyes forward he allowed himself to be led by the Sith, he had stopped speaking, probably aware that his words were not being heard.
The place they were in was like a maze, but he remembered entering a turbolift and, as it moved, he could not discern whether it was ascending or descending. The Sith released his elbow and his apprentice leaned his back against the cold metal wall.
It seemed like it had taken a very long time until the turbolift finally stopped, but as he looked at the display he realized that they were only two floors above his prison.
The metal doors opened and, without thinking, he followed Sidious into another maze of corridors and turns that all looked the same, grey and dull and lifeless.
Darth Sidious led him into a room that contrasted with the hallways so much he seemed to suddenly have entered another planet.
It was decorated in dark brown tones, pieces of art ornated the walls and the large bed in the middle seemed warm and inviting. It was large, larger than his apartment in the Jedi Temple. There was a room with a sofa and a table, four chairs around it. It even had a small kitchen adjacent to the living space.
He wondered, had anyone lived there before? Was this was new home? Was this his new cell?
Sidious gave him a slight push inside. "Lord Menis." He said once more.
"Yes, Master?" he found himself replying.
The Sith sighed, a look of feigned sympathy adorned his deformed features. "I know you are tired, my boy. Rest, I will send droids to tend to your wounds and to bring you a warm meal. Tomorrow your instruction begins."
Then he was left alone, he would say that he was alone with his thoughts, but there were no thoughts in him, there were no feelings, no sensations.
The Force was still around him, as if it was dead, dead like Obi-Wan Kenobi.
He dragged himself to the refresher and, as he walked in, he discerned a person in the large mirror, someone foreign, someone he did not recognize. He looked at it, facing the reflection of this strange man.
He wore tattered and dirty Jedi robes, his beard was long, his eyes and cheeks sunken in. Removing his clothes he realized that the person in the mirror was emaciated, his ribs protruded from his overly pale skin, almost greyish. A gaping cauterized hole was on his shoulder, it seemed to be there for some time even though it was barely healed.
He stepped closer to the mirror and he observed that man. That man was not him, but he was someone he was now recognizing. That was Obi-Wan Kenobi, not the lively, sarcastic, alive one. But his shadow, his corpse, the remnants of who he had been, the last bit of him, shriveled and decaying. A fool, a weakling, a traitor, a murderer.
The rage he had felt earlier returned with a vengeance and his eyes burned gold.
He screamed from deep within him and he felt hatred for the man in that mirror, the man he had once been, the man who had betrayed everything he had ever believed in, who had thrown all his principles away, who had killed the people he was meant to protect.
And for what? For what?
It hardly mattered, because he hated him! He hated him! And he couldn't stand to look at him anymore. So he closed his eyes and he reached for the force, screaming away his pain he grabbed on to his anger and he listened as the mirror shattered into a million pieces, scattering across the floor.
Then he opened his eyes, and he was gone. Obi-Wan Kenobi was finally gone.
Darth Menis turned on the water to the shower and picked a piece of glass from the floor. He bathed himself of the remnants of his past, he cut his beard and his hair. The face he had seen on that mirror, he never wished to see again, not ever.
He would not be like him, he'd be strong, he'd be powerful, he'd protect the ones he loved, not slay them, not fail them like Obi-Wan Kenobi had failed everyone.
He spent a long time under the water, purging himself from his past, from his weakness, letting it flow away with the water into the underground. And when he left, he left anew. He left without a past, only a future to look forward to.
His wounds were tended, he downed his meal and dressed the clothes that had been laid out for him. Black clothes, like what was inside of him.
That night Lord Menis lay on a plush bed, in the midst of soft silk sheets. That night he slept for the first time in a very long time. That night he dreamt of the cries of children, of blood and death, he dreamt of fallen Jedi and of burning flames. He dreamt of war and fear and hate, of bombs ravishing cities and of soldiers falling in battle.
In the morning he would endeavor to forget his dreams, to erase all of his pain.
All he needed was time; and time was all he had.