Author's Note: My apologies for the long wait. I could tell you something about writer's block or problems in real life that kept me from writing, but I would have to lie. I'm just a terribly slow writer. -shrugs- Anyway, I have more reason for this author's note than my always returning apologies.

To understand some aspect of this chapter I have to tell you where I got the idea from. When I was a little girl, I was terribly frightened of the dark, always told stories about shadow monsters wanting to eat me alive. So my mum let a nightlight on, to help me sleep. But it didn't work. The nightmares got even more realistic. And one day my grandfather told me a story. Told me about the monsters becoming more powerful in the light, that they couldn't find me if it were really dark in my room. He told me that in darkness one can be protected.

Dedication: To my dear grandfather. For the gift of silent dreams I have to thank you, Papa. May this give you something to smile about in heaven. I miss you.

Delilah - June 30, 2004

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- Chapter Two -

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Darth...

There it is. The one truth that should never have been, but can no longer be denied. Or even hidden. Poor boy. Poor lonely boy, he tells himself as he leaves the safe haven of arms that hold him so lovingly. Poor boy who never dared to cross the bridge. Poor stupid boy, so full of fear and longing that leaving the one place where happiness was free to hold seemed like the only chance. Poor boy to believe such nonsense.

He is in pain. More pain than he ever imagined, and the reason is not what he wants it to be. No lingering discomfort remains to keep the torture awake. No memory to cling to that reminds him of treachery and hate. Nothing but a cold emptiness. Nothing.

He wants to cry, to seal his fate and lose himself. To escape in the only way he has. But he does not. At least not now. Now is not a time for tears.

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The room is dark in a way that makes him shudder. He knows darkness, probably better than most. Knows what the dark can do and what it takes to keep it at bay. He knows that true darkness is not evil. Despite what one learns, the dark is never evil. It is pure. It is the epitome of protection. In the total black of night the shadows have no power. And thus it keeps one safe.

But this room is dark. It is filled with twilight and shadows, so that the grey becomes black. Disturbingly familiar. Frighteningly equal to another room he once had the honour to inhabit, though only in its function. Nothing else. This room, this cell does not remind him of his home before he finished his training. No it does not. I cannot.

And thus he dreams.

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He is running. Running away from what he can't remember, nor does he care. All he wants is to get away, as far away as his feet can carry him. What the teachers told him frightens him to his very core. No, it can't be true. No. His father was Corellian, not some freak from a strange mystical planet.. No, the teachers obviously made a mistake. That's it. They made a mistake. That is why they brought him here to this desolate place. That is the reason. The only reason.

There. A door. Behind which he will probably find a place to hide, and if not that at least a way out of here. But what he finds is not what he wished for. No way to freedom, no dark cupboard to protect him from the doctors. What he finds is only a private room. A room which is not empty if the angry voice is any indication.

"Leave me alone." No, not angry. More like desperate for a moments peace. Sad.

His feet bring him to the white curtains that surround the patient's bed without him even ordering it. His hand, broken more times than he cares to think about, longs to touch the soft cloth and move it aside to see what is behind it. Just a bit more, just a tiny step and he is there. Just...

He is pressed against the wall. The very air seems to hold him prisoner. Not even the smallest of movements is allowed in this chain of nothing that seems to delight in his pain, in his fear. For one moment he is at the brink of death, welcomes the thought of him leaving this existence, but as fast as the thought came it goes away.

What was that?

"I said, leave me alone."

This time he does not run.

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"Wake up, sleepy head. Dream time's over." This voice he remembers, would have remembered with his ears cut of. It is the voice of someone who would never betray him, never hurt him. The voice of a trusted friend sworn to protect him at all cost, a companion who is at his side since nearly eighteen years ago.

"Chewie? Is that really you?" he asks though he already knows the answer.

"Of course, it is I. Who did you... Oh." Silence follows. A thick silence one does not wish to break. "I take it you remember?" Remember? Did he really remember? Or are the memories now filling his mind nothing more than wishful thinking? He does not know. It hurts to think of the past.

What he knows is of the now, and now at this moment he is as sure as one can be that the one person who owns his heart is as lonely as he. What he knows is that to return, to follow his heart, would be to betray all he has fought for in the past. And it frightens him to realize the decision is already made.

"Yes, I remember. I remember everything, Chewie." Every painful detail, every oh so tiny secret. He just doesn't know what to do with it.

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At the other end of the galaxy a beauty finds her way through the great emptiness that is space. Those who serve her call her many names, but Lady is one of the most cherished. She is a cold mistress, full of danger and intrigues, but also never ending devotion. For she is the Silver Queen, daughter of proud ideals and foolish dreams. She is the one who will decide about the end of this conflict that divides the planets.

She is the Great Lady Executor. Flag ship of the Empire. Protector and destroyer. Lover and killer. And home to one of the most feared warriors ever known to sentient society.

May she find it in her heart to have mercy with us all.