Chapter Nineteen

I make a sincere effort to meet Padme's demands and keep matters professional between us, but it's a struggle for me. I don't know why it is more difficult staying away from her on her terms as opposed to my own. Perhaps, she's right after all. Perhaps, this has been about my need for control. And now that it seems that I don't have it any longer, I feel like I'm spiraling.

Still, despite the growing anxiety I feel, I keep my distance from Padme' for the remainder of the day and throughout the entirety of Owen and Beru's wedding ceremony. The reception that follows is an informal event. Owen and Beru have chosen a nondescript cantina in Mos Eisley to entertain their guests. Most of the attendees are family, former slaves and a few of our neighbors and fellow moisture farmers. Thankfully, no one else from her delegation decided to accompany her so I hadn't been forced to put up with looking at Rush Clovis' smug face all night.

Padme' stands out like a glowing beacon on a darkened landscape. Even dressed as simply as any other native Tatooine woman with her dark hair pulled back from her face in a single, intricate braid, her incomparable beauty shines iridescently. It's little wonder then that I spend most of the night watching her while she engages in customary party games, effortlessly charms our neighbors, and makes small talk with my mother and Beru.

"So, are you going to stare at her all night or are you going to go over and invite her to dance?" I cut a doleful glance in Owen's direction when he drops into the vacant seat beside me. "You might have a lot less trouble if you just admitted you were in love with her."

"I've never made a secret of the fact that I'm in love with her."

He nudges me with his shoulder. "Then why don't you do something about it?"

"She doesn't want that."

"She doesn't or you don't?" he presses skeptically.

"She doesn't."

Owen groans. "Oh Anakin, what have you done now?"

"Why do you always assume it's something I've done?"

"Because it always is. You never think things through," he admonishes.

It's evident to me that his comment stems from much more than my inability to make things work with Padme'. There is a trace of criticism resonating between us in what he's left unsaid. "Do you really want to do this right now?" I demand with a mixture of disbelief and exasperation, "At your wedding?"

"You really haven't given me any other options, have you?"

"So, go ahead and say it," I invite him flatly, "You think I'm responsible for Jett's death!"

"Do you think you're responsible?" he counters.

"Don't try to project this back at me, Owen! You're the one pushing for this conversation so, the least you can do is own it! Speak your mind."

"Why? So, you can fly off the handle the way you always do?"

Unable to refute the accusation, I drop my head forward with a chastened grunt. "I won't fly off the handle," I promise gruffly.

After studying me for a long, speculative moment, Owen concedes. "Alright, truth. I don't think that you set the best example for Jett."

"You mean because of the podracing and my association with Jabba?"

"That's partly the reason," Owen admits, "You and Jett had that in common. You both go looking for trouble."

"Not necessarily true," I argue tightly, "but go on."

"Listen to me," he says in that tone he uses when he thinks I'm about to lose my temper, "I don't fault you for taking those risks for yourself. I know you can handle them. You're a former Jedi after all. You don't have the same limitations as the rest of us do. Jett failed to recognize that, and I think that you did too."

"I didn't expect Jett to be like me, Owen."

"But you never told him that he couldn't be either."

My family still believes that Jett's death was an accident, a result of a foolish attempt to emulate me. I haven't disabused them of that belief mainly because doing so would mean enlightening them to the true nature of my activities for the last six months. While I am confident that there are a great many things my family would support me through, I am sure that treason, espionage, and murder would most likely be their proverbial line in the sand.

Besides that, whether I incur their condemnation or not, it won't change what I ultimately must do to end this war. If anything, them knowing the truth will only create more resistance for me. It will only hurt and disappoint them when I refuse to yield to their concerns. Why even give them the smallest hope that they have a chance of changing my mind? And so, I keep silent as much for their sakes as for my own.

"Are you saying that I should have made it clearer to Jett that he couldn't do the same things I was doing?

"Yes."

"And you think he might have lived if I had done that?"

"I'd like to say 'yes' but honestly? I don't know. That boy was almost as headstrong as you."

"So, you're saying it is my fault," I determine grimly.

"I'm saying that we all could have done better about setting boundaries for the kid," Owen says, "But I think we were reluctant to do that…I was reluctant to do that because we weren't his family. I didn't feel like I had the right to tell him what to do."

"But you feel like you have the right to tell me?" I conclude wryly.

"Well, you are my little brother." He grins at me, and I can't keep my answering smile from pulling at the corners of my mouth in return. "I'm going to give you some good advice that you're probably going to dismiss out of turn because you never listen to reason."

"Thanks, Owen. Always expecting the best of me…"

Unaffected by my mocking reply, he places a gentle hand on my shoulder and advises me in an uncharacteristically quiet tone, "I know you feel like Jett's death was your fault. Maybe it is and maybe it isn't. Either way, you can't change what happened, and punishing yourself continuously because you can't change it isn't going to help anyone. You did the same thing after what happened with Mom and the Tuskens."

"What is the point having all this power at my disposal, of being the Chosen One at all, if I can't keep the people I love the most from being hurt?" I reason aloud, and not for the first time in my life either, "What good is it then? Nothing should be off limits to me."

"And maybe that's what you and Jett had in common after all," Owen murmurs softly, "Because for all your power, there are some things that should be. Everyone needs limits, Ani. Even you."

"That's it? That's your grand advice?" I demand rather dryly, "'Know my limits?' What kind of cryptic counsel is that? Did you attend the school of Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

"Ahh, you're hilarious. No, that's not my advice but, you should listen to it anyway. My real advice to you is to get out of your own way. Let yourself be happy for once. If you want to be with Padme' then be with her. If you want to race for the rest of your life, then do that. But figure out what you want.

"You may not like hearing this but…sometimes, you are your own worst enemy, little brother."

I continue to stew over Owen's words long after he's left me to my darkened corner of the room to join his new bride. My brother, who I wouldn't readily describe as a bastion of wisdom, could be astoundingly perceptive on occasion. He had no idea how spot on he had been in his assessment of me. In fact, my entire tenure as Darth Vader could be defined as being my own enemy. Hadn't that been Vader's most enduring goal, to permanently destroy all lingering traces of Anakin Skywalker?

In a strange way, he had succeeded in his quest. I am no longer that boy whose heart was filled with such idealism all those years ago that he left his mother behind on the hopes of becoming a powerful Jedi. In his place is a cynical, disillusioned man with too much blood on his hands. And try as I might, wish as I might, I cannot ever get back to that optimistic boy I had been. He is gone forever. I knew that when I mourned him on Mustafar. That knowledge doesn't stop me from yearning for his return, nonetheless.

Maybe that was the reason Vader had been so single-minded about killing him. Anakin Skywalker had been a constant reminder of all the things he would never be. Things he secretly wished he could be. It had not been hatred that had driven him all those years. Not completely. Envy and fear had been his motivation. Vader had always known the price he'd paid to be Sidious' puppet had been much too high and Anakin would never let him forget that.

And what about me? Who is this being I've become, this person forged in the wake of Vader's demise? No longer was I defined by the same rage and hatred, but I was also without optimism and even goodness at times. I have strong convictions and I'm willing to fight for them but what happens once I accomplish my goals and the war is over? What happens when Sidious dead? What will be left to fight for? Can I even exist without it? Can a product of war and violence even truly know peace?

I don't have the answers. Yet, the questions continue to plague me in an endless loop until I'm finally forced to my feet and driven out into the crisp, desert air to escape them. But I cannot escape my own thoughts. They hound my every step and haunt me wherever I go.

Still, I try, determined to avoid them, at least for a little while. With no real destination in mind, I head over to my swoop bike with the full intention of riding until exhaustion overtakes me, when a familiar but unexpected voice sounds softly behind me. I freeze mid-step.

"You're going to leave without saying goodbye to your family?"

I slowly pivot to face Padme' with a chagrined expression. "They're used to it."

"Your complete lack of social etiquette, you mean?"

"No," I answer, unsure if I should be offended or amused by her comment, "My random disappearances." I wait in expectation for her to explain what she is doing out here with me and, when she doesn't, I simply ask her outright.

"I saw you leave. You looked upset. I wanted to make sure nothing was amiss." I refrain from reminding her that she had demanded I stay away from her just that very morning so her apparent concern for my well-being now seems a bit misplaced. Despite my silence, however, my facial expression must still convey those sentiments because she adds, "Your mother told me what happened on Malastare during your last race. I'm sorry, Anakin. I didn't know."

"Would it have changed anything if you had?"

"You lost a friend. I might not have been so harsh with you had I known that."

My mouth twists in an aggrieved smile. "I don't need your pity."

Even after all that has happened between us, Padme' still appears unprepared by my rejection. She draws herself back with a startled gasp her hurt plainly visible on her face. And then she gradually composes her features into a familiar, stony façade. "You're right. I shouldn't have followed you. Goodnight."

Owen' earlier words suddenly echo in my ears as I watch her walk away. Sometimes, you're your own worst enemy. "Padme', wait!" I cry out, poised to chase after her when she doesn't stop immediately, "Please don't go!" Her steps falter but she keeps her back presented to me. "I don't want to be alone right now."

When she finally yields and turns to face me, her expression is cautious but compassionate. "I'm sorry that you've been having such a difficult time."

"He was a good kid," I tell her thickly, "My friend…the first real friend I've had outside of the Order since…" Since you. I look away from her as tears begin to well and guilt seizes me anew in its unforgiving grip. "I think you would have liked him."

"Your mother said that you two were quite a pair and that seeing you together made her wish she could have given you a younger sibling."

"That probably would have been a mistake. I'm very good at destroying the people I care about."

"Anakin, don't do that."

"I'm the reason he's dead. He never would have been there if it weren't for me."

If she is disturbed by my admission, she doesn't betray it. Nevertheless, she seems to easily discern what I've left unsaid. "So, the rumors are true then?" she queries softly, "You did intend to kill Jabba after all, didn't you?"

"That wasn't how we planned it to happen, and I didn't do it for the reasons that you think!"

"And the senators and representatives? The Separatists leaders? Has that been your doing as well?"

"They were all corrupt, Padme'. They had to die."

The way she is looking at me now is similar to how she had when we were back on Mustafar following my tacit admission of the atrocities I'd committed at the Jedi Temple in her name. She's staring at me in a mixture of disbelief, disappointment, and disoriented confusion. It's as if she is truly seeing who I am for the very first time and she doesn't like what she sees. She falls back a step with a sickened grunt.

"Anakin, do you realize what you're saying to me?" she whispers, aghast, "You're confessing to murder. Do you understand that?"

I shake my head firmly to refute that statement. "Not murder. Justice."

"On whose authority?" she demands, in much the same sanctimonious tone that Obi-Wan had used with me days earlier, "What gave you the right to determine a death sentence for those men without the benefit of a trial?"

"Because they were beyond redemption."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I've seen what they do!" I cry sharply, "I've seen it, Padme'! I've lived it!"

She squints at me in confusion. "You've said that to me before. What do you mean you've 'lived' it, Anakin?"

It all comes tumbling out of me then, my former life as a Sith, Palpatine's true identity, Order 66 and the rise of the Galactic Empire. I tell her all of it. It's amazing how unburdened I feel when I do. All things considered I think she takes the revelation rather well even if her first inclination is to write me off as a complete lunatic and nervously offer to fetch my mother to "calm me down."

"So, what you're telling me is that you haven't only seen the future," she states as she slowly begins to process everything she's just heard, "You are telling me that you're from the future?"

"Correct. Approximately 13 years from now."

"And in that future, Chancellor Palpatine is actually a Sith lord who destroys the Republic, appoints himself as Emperor, and you're his second in command?"

"Yes."

"This…is…a lot, Anakin," she says with deliberate, measured breaths, "You do understand that this is a lot to accept, right?"

"I do understand that very well," I tell her, "Maybe now you can appreciate my reasoning in all this. Those men I killed were not going to change because they were being driven by their own greed, then and now. They were going to continue to take advantage of the poor and vulnerable because there was no one to put them in check!"

"So, you decided to do it this time around?"

"Yes."

"But all of this bloodshed…" she mumbles with a sorrowful shake of her head, "When does it end, Anakin?"

I square my shoulders then, prepping myself for the rejection and ridicule that I know will follow. But this is the path I've chosen for myself, and I'm willing to own the consequences. In a way, the unveiling of my true nature to her is liberating. There's no longer any need to hide what I am from her…or apologize for it either.

"I told you a long time ago that I was a killer," I remind her quietly, "It's what I know and I'm very good at it. This is who I am, Padme'. You can accept that or not, but it won't change the truth."

"That would be so simple for you, wouldn't it?" she grunts softly, "If I were to write you off as a cold-hearted monster? I'm almost think that's what you want me to do."

"You should. I am a monster. Do you believe me now?"

"No, I don't. Because I know that you're a good person. The more you try to convince me otherwise, the surer of that I become. You're not evil, Anakin, but you are misguided."

A sharp, rancorous laugh escapes my lips before I can stop it. "Have you ever considered that maybe I'm not the one who's misguided?" I challenge, "Maybe you're the one who has it wrong! Democracy doesn't work, Padme'."

"And your way does?"

"No." I can tell I surprise her with my honest reply because she suddenly snaps her mouth shut against whatever argument she was preparing. "I know it doesn't work. But it gets results."

"At what cost? What is it costing you, Anakin?"

"What I owe."

"That's the true reason you've been holding me at arm's length this entire time. You imagine you're sparing me from this darkness that consumes you!"

"Everything I have done is to protect you, Padme', to spare you pain!"

My own words reverberate in my ears, reminiscent of a similar claim from another lifetime. I cannot understand how we've found ourselves in this same place again, having this same argument. My greatest fear is that it will also end with the same result.

"You're not sparing me anything!" she cries, "I suffer along with you whether we are together or not! You need to stop this! Come back before it's too late and you're lost forever!"

"You don't understand."

"I do understand," she insists fervidly, easily turning my earlier words to her back on me, "I know your fears are very real to you! But you do not have to face them alone! I can help you, Anakin, but only if you allow it!" As if realizing belatedly that she has become so impassioned that she's raising her voice, Padme' abruptly composes herself, her countenance calm and poised once more. "I won't beg you. I won't come to you! If you want us, if you want me then you have to take the first step."

"What are you saying right now? Should we just pretend that this conversation never happened? Can you really set aside everything that I've done so easily?"

"I haven't put it aside," she replies, "I think you're wrong, and I don't condone what you've done at all. You absolutely can't continue to go on as you have. But I still love you despite that because I know that you truly don't see a better way…not yet. But you will and I can help you to do that if you're willing." She extends a trembling hand to me, a gesture of unmistakable love. "Are you?"

There are two choices set before me now. I can take her hand and allow myself to be swayed by her ridiculous notion that she can convince me that something better lies ahead, or I can reject her offer and guarantee that she and I will spend the remainder of our lives in opposition to one another. One option seems foolhardy while the other is unbearable.

Get out of your own way!

I don't even make a conscious decision to take her hand. I just do it. And, when I do, I pull her into my arms as if it is the most natural thing in the world. It feels like it is. She yields to me without the slightest resistance. When her arms wrap around me and our embrace tightens, I know truly in that instant that I am home. This is home. With her. In her arms. It always has been.

I know that I am never going to let her go again.

Our first kiss after so many months apart is soft and tentative, little more than nibbling exploration as we gingerly reacquaint ourselves. It is only when I whisper her name and the kiss begins to grow deeper, bolder that Padme' suddenly wrenches away from me in a breathless rush. I meet her glassy stare in the moonlight, disoriented by the sudden shift between us.

"What's wrong?"

"You can't take it back," she says, her dark eyes a little wild, "You can't kiss me and take it back. We're not doing that again, Anakin. You'd better be sure that this is what you want!"

Relieved that she hasn't changed her mind, I smile and tug her back against me for another lingering kiss. "I'm sure. You're what I want."