"You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul."
-Julie De Lespinasse
The Coruscant cityscape lit the night sky afire.
Padmé leaned on the railing, watching the ebb and flow of skylane traffic carve brilliant lines into the black. Wind ruffled her hair, and she closed her eyes, envisioning a green meadow and a beautiful lake. Organic architecture, warm colors, bright flowers. The Emperor's fashion sense had invaded Coruscant, and the only colors found in any abundance were red, black, white, and steel. They wearied the eye, so much metal and blood. Before Palpatine, Coruscant had been a city of light.
She could remember that, out here.
In the free night air, she could remember what democracy had been like, what friendship had been like. She could remember happiness as a tiny kick from inside her womb. She could remember what Anakin looked like when he smiled.
All smashed in one horrible day.
In one day, democracy had died and an Empire arose. One day, and all the Jedi were scattered or slaughtered, Obi-Wan burned. One day, she had lost her friends, her babies, everyone who trusted her. She had drowned, choked, screamed and died on that day. Her world had been reduced to black, white and red in one thrice-damned day.
Only Anakin was left.
Choking, she pulled back from the banister, turned away from the thousand meter precipice that suddenly loomed and collapsed into one of the veranda chairs. He would not make her cry, not again. She was done with the weeping willow.
Glaring at the tile stones did not particularly help, but at least there were no tears.
His eyes haunted her.
He dressed in black and fought with red, but his eyes broke the monochromatic hold of Palpatine. Sometimes, a light broke through storm steel, and the pure blue of sky shone through. The sweet, true heart of a little boy she once knew still lived, even shrouded in shadow.
She hated him.
She hated that he could still be there, that she could still recognize her Ani in a man who had betrayed everything she believed in, destroyed or twisted everything that mattered to her – the Senate, the Jedi, peace, justice, freedom. To protect her, he had burned Obi-Wan. To heal her, he had killed her babies. To save her, he had shattered himself.
In the face of such soul-destroying love, what is there to do except hate?
No tears. No more tears.
She could not keep loving him. She could not afford to. The galaxy would not survive it.
Padmé had tried everything to get to that little boy. Reason drove him farther away. Love untested had only enabled them to see each other, turned the shadow to transparisteel. Mercy...
Mercy had buffeted him like a gale, brought him to his knees. Mercy had cracked that transparisteel cage, blown away the shadow Ani hid behind. And fear had chased him out of the apartment.
Stars forgive her, she could not stop him.
His eyes glared back at her from the tile floor. Not his sky eyes, nor even his storm. No, these burned yellow with all the fires of Mustafar.
He had killed Palpatine.
He had killed Palpatine, and then came back to her doorstep with all the mad energy of a vine tiger. Driven by the furnace behind those yellow eyes, he announced that the deranged plea he had offered her a year before had finally come to pass. He was now Emperor Vader, and she ruled beside him as Empress. They could do what they wanted; make everything the way it was meant to be.
She had asked him if he could walk the sky again. He had not heard her.
Padmé stood and padded inside, past the half-open bedroom door, to a wooden chest in the corner of the living room. She undid the ornate locks and carefully pushed back the lid, resting her eyes on the treasure that gleamed dully inside.
His old lightsaber.
Her hand drifted toward it, ran lightly over the metal and rubber. He had saved the Galaxy with this, even as he now destroyed it with the other. She snatched it from the holder, then buried it in her nightgown. Drawing herself up, she walked to the bedroom door.
His yellow eyes stared at her, unchanged.
"Padmé." He sat shirtless on the bed, burnished hair spilling onto his shoulders and disappearing into the hungry shadows around him.
She drank in the sight of him, trying to ignore his eyes. "Tell me you love me."
"Why?" More of an accusation than a question. She was so tired of suspicion.
"Just say it, please? I need to hear you say it."
"Are you alright, Padmé? You don't have to worry anymore. I've saved you."
"Please." She looked straight into those fire-drenched eyes, watched him stand up and come to her. Her hand slipped down to the hidden saber.
"I love you." He gathered her into his embrace, and she went willingly, pressing her cheek to his steel chest.
The sky was never coming back. None of the feeling that used to permeate those words were there, and his eyes didn't even flicker. She stood, encircled by the shell of the man who ruled the galaxy.
A blue glow filled the room, and he gave a tiny jerk.
She pulled away from him.
Padme wept.
AN: written in '05 - reread it and noticed I missed a rather important line, couldn't figure out how to edit the thing without re-uploading it, so here it is. Sorry about that - I wish I could have done it a different way, but...
And the line was "A blue glow filled the room, and he gave a tiny jerk." See? Too important to not edit.