Time to Come Home

Padme is fighting back the stormtroopers to get off Coruscant safely. Darth Vader fights to get to his wife.

AN: This is very similar to the previous one-shot, but this one was actually written first over a year ago. So a similar concept, but a different take on how it could go.

Padmé held her blaster tighter. She was already squeezing it tightly and her fingers had long since gone numb. Blaster fire echoed in the building all around her. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to get a moment of calm to center herself. An explosion went off nearby. The building shook and rattled. Dust shook loose from the ceiling. The place was already crumbling and falling apart when they had been forced to flee into it, and now it was finally coming down around her.

The Republic Loyalist soldiers were putting up a good fight against the Imperial forces, but she couldn't help but wonder if this would be the fight they truly lost. At least the group that worked with Padmé and served as her bodyguards. The room shook again as another explosion went off. Her throat was dry from all the dust and her eyes stung. She was hiding behind a large piece of metal. It was bent and crooked with rust spots. Its original use had been forgotten. It could have been siding on the wall or perhaps even a large metal table, but now it served as a shield.

She was crouched behind it with one hand gripping her blaster and the other resting on a container sitting next to her. To her left was the commander of the Loyalists. They were the only ones behind the table. The rest of the squad was scattered in the building holding the Imperialists off.

"How is that escape route looking?" the commander asked over the comm.

"Not yet secure, ma'am," a static-filled voice reported back. "These troopers are never ending."

The commander sighed and looked at Padmé. Nothing needed to be said. They were both painfully aware of their situation. Padmé was the one to look away first. Her gaze went to the ground. Her heart was heavy. This was her fault. They were in this situation because of her. They had agreed to act as her protectors, and now they were dying. Tears stung at her eyes but luckily did not fall. She should say something, anything, to the commander and her squad. But words were failing her as the sound of blasters grew louder and closer. The shouts over the comm grew more desperate especially as fewer and fewer voices were heard.

Then the first red bolt came into the room. It left a smoking mark against the wall near the commander's head. The commander gave a nod to Padmé as she jumped up and started to return fire. Padmé wanted to jump up and help the commander. She was a good shot, but . . . Her eyes flickered to the round egg-shaped container her hand rested on. No, she couldn't. Stormtroopers were now in the room. Bolts were flying everywhere. The metal sheet hummed as shot after shot blasted into it.

Suddenly, it all stopped.

Silence.

It was . . . odd . . .

It left a ringing in her ears.

She had grown so accustomed to the bombardment, that it felt alien without the noise. She could hear the sound of her own heart banging in her chest. Her blood coursing through her veins. Her breathing was heavy in her chest.

She slowly looked up at the commander, whose eyes were wide and face was white. Her blaster was still raised over the metal sheet. Then suddenly she screamed and let loose a volley of bolts. Padmé's body tensed up as she heard a familiar hum of a lightsaber. The commander's green bolts were deflected into the walls and ceiling all around them. Suddenly, the commander gasped. Her blaster fell from her hand as both hands grasped at her throat. Gurgles came out of her mouth.

She was choking!

Padmé had to help, but just as she started to move she heard a clear snap. The commander's lifeless body fell to the ground with a heavy thump. It matched the cold weight that dropped into Padmé's stomach. Tears welled up in her eyes again. A few slipped down her cheek, but she blinked the rest away as she heard the heavy steps approaching her.

A figure walked around the metal sheet. He stood tall and proud. His robes were all Imperial black with black plastoid armor on his shoulders. A long black cape hung on a silver chain. His lightsaber was clipped to his belt. His long hair was brushed back. It pained her to see that familiar face with gold eyes rimmed in red. He first looked at the commander's body. He gave a huff of disgust before his gaze turned to her.

His eyes widened. A small smile grew on his lips. "Padmé," he said softly. He took a step towards her, but she snapped up the blaster she still held tightly in her hand. He stopped. His eyes narrowed as one of his gloved hands rose up. "Put that down," he growled.

"No," she whispered. "Don't come any closer."

He slowly took a step; she pulled the trigger. A bolt zapped out straight towards his chest and- and- it landed in his hand. The bolt sizzled out as if it had been nothing more than a small firework. He flicked his fingers and her blaster was ripped out of her hands and flew away. It soared over the metal sheet. She heard it clatter against the floor on the other side. She put both hands on the container and leaned over it protectively.

He now stood over her. His face in shadow. His gold eyes appeared to glow. Slowly, he knelt down to one knee. He placed one hand on the container.

"Don't!" she hissed.

"Padmé," he said. A sob bubbled up in her hearing her name on his lips like that. "It's time for all this to stop. Time for you to come home."

"What home?" she asked. "Do you mean the Empire?"

He sighed. His hand slid across the container until it brushed up against hers. His pinky rose up and gently stroked against her own.

"Padmé," he said again.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Say my name like that. Like you're my husband."

"I am your husband."

"No. My husband was Anakin Skywalker." His eyes narrowed at that name. "You are not him."

The room suddenly grew cold. A shiver ran through her. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as goosebumps ran down her arms. But she didn't cower. She wouldn't. Not in front of him.

"Anakin would never have done the things you have done. Not my Anakin," she said bitterly.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked. His voice low. His words heavy.

"Yes," she snapped. "He would never hurt me!"

There was a sharp and short gasp from him. A slight widening of his eyes, but it was quickly gone.

"I . . . I was angry . . ." he said. "I just accepted the Dark Side. I was high off its power. I thought you had betrayed me that you had-"

"So you choked me?" A few tears ran down her cheeks. "You- you- almost killed me, Anakin! Almost killed us!"

They both looked down at the container. He lifted his hand off and waved it clearly using the Force. She heard the click of the button and the soft hiss of the container's lid unlatching. She grabbed the container and pulled it to her as it slid open. Inside were two sleeping babies. Not much could be seen of them. They both wore knitted caps to keep their heads warm and were swaddled in blankets. Only their round little faces could be seen. They had slept through the chaos.

"They're beautiful," he said.

Fresh tears streamed down her face. This was his first time seeing them. His own children . . . Neither one of them moved or said anything. They both just watched the sleeping babies. Luke wiggled but didn't wake up. With a wave of a hand, the hover pram closed. His gold eyes were now on her.

"It's time to go," he said. He held out his hand to her. She didn't move.

"You can't take them," she said. "You can't have them."

His face twisted into a scowl. His fingers curled into claws. The biting cold returned.

"They are my children." Anger and possessiveness laced his words.

"They are the children of Anakin Skywalker."

Silence fell between them again thick and heavy and tense. She was walking a thin and dangerous line with him. But would he hurt her again? She believed he could. She believed not only would he hurt her but also the babies. Maybe not now, but later when they grew up a little bit. When they could speak their minds.

He leaned over. His face hovered only a few inches away from hers.

"I am Anakin Skywalker," he said in a low voice. A shiver ran up her spine. "I am their father. I am your husband."

She didn't miss a beat. "I thought you were now Darth Vader." The name hung heavy in the air between them like a stain. His gold eyes searched hers.

"I am," he said after a moment's pause. "I killed Anakin Skywalker. He was weak. He-"

"I loved him," she said. Her voice cracked as another sob threatened to come out. "I loved him with my whole heart. With everything I had." Tears again ran down her cheeks. They were hot and it felt like they were burning her skin.

One of his hands slowly rose up and gently slid around her neck and cradled the back of her head. He leaned in and pressed his lips against her cheeks and started to kiss away the tears.

"I love you," he whispered between the soft kisses. "I have always loved you. I always will. I can't do this without you, Padmé."

"Come away with me," she whispered. She leaned in towards him. Their foreheads touched. "We can leave this all behind. It can be just us. The four of us."

His eyes fluttered down to the pram. It was a familiar gesture. One she had seen her husband do time and time again. A shy look down. It made her heart squeeze. His free hand slid on top of hers, which still rested on the top of the pram. He gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I can't," he said. His voice soft. It had lost its edge. It sounded so much like Anakin. Her Anakin. "I can't leave."

"Yes, you can!"

"I can't . . . I . . . Everything I did, Padmé, was for us. Was for you. I can't live without you. I couldn't let you die."

"I'm not dead. I'm right here! I'm alive! The babies are alive!"

Though he was still looking down, she saw him smile. He squeezed her hand again.

"I'm tired of hiding," he said. His voice sounded tired. He sighed and looked up at her. His red-rimmed gold eyes seemed to burn. "I'm not going to run away." The darkness had returned to his voice. "I'm not going to lose you either. You will see, Padmé. I will remake this galaxy. I will kill the Emperor when his usefulness runs out. I will claim the throne. We can rule together side by side. We can finally right all the wrongs and make this galaxy better."

She shook her head from side to side. "Anakin, please," she cried. "This is a path I can't follow. I can't do this."

"You're a very strong woman, Padmé. You can do this. I know you can. If not for me, then for them."

His eyes glanced down at the pram.

"Anakin. I . . ."

He sighed. His gaze darted to something behind her. She whipped her head around just in time to see a stormtrooper holding a syringe. She opened her mouth to shout, but it was too late. The needle was pushed into her arm. She turned back around and fell on top of the pram and held it tight. Her thoughts were on the two small babies inside as she lost consciousness.

Darth Vader looked at his wife. Her body was wrapped around the hover parm. His eyes snapped up to the trooper standing behind her.

"Is the stretcher ready?" he asked.

"Yes, my lord," the trooper said.

Vader stood up and carefully collected his wife into his arms. It felt good to hold her again. It felt right. He walked around the twisted metal sheet she had been hiding behind. A hover stretched floated in the middle of the room and he slowly lowered her down onto it. He brushed some brown curls from her face. She looked pale and thin. Had she recovered from the birth? He looked up at the four troopers in the room. They had been there the whole time. They had heard everything. Heard the heartfelt reunion between husband and wife.

He couldn't have that.

His lightsaber was lit in a blink of an eye. He cut through the trooper who had given Padmé the sedative first. Then he turned on the other three before they could get their blasters up. When all four bodies laid on the floor in smoking clumps, he deactivated his saber. He marched back around the metal sheet and knelt down next to the pram. He opened it.

His heart swelled seeing the little babies again. They were as they had been before. Both sound asleep. He pulled off the black leather glove on his flesh hand. With only a knuckle, he gently brushed the cheek of one baby and then the other.

"I love you two so much," he said in a hushed tone. He pulled his hand away, slipped it back into the glove, and closed the pram. He connected his commlink to the pram's control panel. As he stood it also raised into the air and it followed him around the metal sheet. His hands gripped the handles of Padmé's stretcher. He paused for a moment to look at her before he pushed her out of the room. The babies' pram following silently behind him.

He couldn't help but smile. He finally had his wife and children. His family. Now he just needed to take the Empire.