Crimson Tears

Chapter 17

By aznJEDI13


Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Anakin and Amidala and everyone else. Heck, he owns just about everything in the story. This is purely for fan enjoyment.

Notes: This takes place during the Clone Wars. I must warn you right now that I'm not a big fan of Anakin turning into Darth Vader so it probably won't end with anything like that. I hope you like this; I've been reading too many ami/obi ones I was sooooooooooooo mad. That was completely random and I'm going to write a bunch of stories to rebel against them!

Thanks to everyone who left a review! Please continue to do so. I was so shocked, I've never had so many reviews and I enjoyed reading them over and over again so please continue! I like long reviews too!!!

Sorry I've been so absent. Life is hectic now that school's started! Look hopefully for an update a week.

Once again, Italics means flashbacks or dreams. =D

This is my favorite post!

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'…I'm finding my way back to sanity again though I don't really know what…'


Wineglasses clinked.

The noise was inevitable. Ambushing his ear drums into unexpected fury and unpredictable emotions.

Drunken laughter sounded.

Sweet taunting voices.

Joyous praise, resounding song, glistening harmonics.

He shook his head furiously, trying to drown away the unavoidable.

Tender hands, silky smooth.

Slender arms around his neck.

Holding her tiny waist.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear his crowded mind. He could not concentrate, he could not see.

A luscious beauty looked him in the eye. His vision, incoherent and distorted, blurred and cleared, cleared and blurred.

Awkward steps to serene ballads.

Spinning. Circling. Gliding.

Laughing. Smiling. Loving.

Gentle hand pressed against his rough cheek.

Coarse hand tenderly caressing silky smooth skin of her ivory face.

He was spinning in circles. He was lost. He was confused. His head hurt. He could not tell what was happening. His head shook back and fourth in confusion.

Firm gentle hands gripped his shoulders. Soft flesh reached and pressed against his forehead. She mumbled words to him and he in turn unconsciously nodded. The hands left him and rested against her tiny chest. Clutching it in anticipation.

His vision blurred, cleared, blurred, and finally cleared.

He gave her lopsided grin and she returned it with a teary-eyed smile. He took more small steps and she let out an uncertain gasp. Suddenly, a pounding headache shook his temples. All conscious thoughts fled. Images streamed and flooded his confused mind.

Vision cleared and blurred. Incoherent pictures.

Sweet kisses on gentle lips.

Tasty cake melting in watery mouth.

Satin virgin white.

Sweet smell of lilacs in her hair, vanilla scent on her skin.

He shook his head, closed his eyes. Excruciating pain, tormenting agony. Clutching his head in his hands, trying to shake the unnerving feelings. He realized he was now holding onto nothing. His breathing stopped, caught in his hoarse throat. He fumbled for the bars, for something to hold onto.

Incoherent -- blurred then distorted.

Loving hand on his arm.

Single kiss on the cheek.

Muted words from unspoken angel.

His fingers brushed the metal, but missed it completely. His slender and thin body plummeted below with nothing to catch him except the mat his face fluidly slammed into. Two strong hands reaching to help him up while two gentle hands ran lazy patterns over his body to see if he was all right.

Pompous handshakes, superficial smiles.

Sweaty palms, knowing glances.

Eyeing gazes, dancing eyes.

Rushing heartbeat; crazed emotion.

Voices echoing and images reeling through his chaotic and disordered mind. Glassy tears on his fragile eyes and an assured smirk on his handsome face. His shaky hand grasps another's. He was enveloped into a comforting embrace, given proud smiles and a warm kiss on the cheek.

Potent kisses; passionate caresses.

Fevered motions in the heat of the night.

A silk smooth hand pressed against his cheek. Other hands patted his back. Words not spoken, words not needed. He had done it. He had fallen, but he had done it. Hadn't he? He had fallen, he kept reminding himself, he had fallen…

Unspoken words exchanged of a knowing vow…

Visions, remembered and forgotten, incoherent and distorted, cleared and blurred, blurred and cleared…

'…There's no love on these streets
I have given mine away to a world that didn't want it anyway…'



"It amazing,"

He turned his head to look at his company. Her head was bowed and he could see the slight sign of joyous and sober tears.

She turned to look at him.

And clearly, he could see the salty tears sailing down her plum face. She cocked her head to look at him. He realized she had been talking to him. He cleared his voice, "What's amazing?"

She laughed, but became solemn once more; "I spent six months trying…" her voice cracked painfully, "to get him to walk…" She wiped her eyes, "She does it in six weeks."

Feeling sorry for her, he went over and placed his hand on her shoulder. Squeezing it gently, "I'm sorry, Jewel," He turned and looked out the window, "But she loves him."

He smiled to himself, "And he loves her."

A sniffle followed by a whispered voice, "I know."

To be continued…

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