A/N: I was wondering what you all were thinking on the last chapter. ^__^

Chapter Fourteen

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Anamaria woke several hours later to a cold dark space. For a moment, her mind began to panic, seizing control of her to intend that she thought herself in a closed-out place, and she felt her breath quicken. But wait...

Her hand fumbled clumsily, and found the linking chain to the lamp upon her bedside table. Light flooded the room, revealing that she was not in a closet, but instead in her quarters. On the Innuendo. Alone.

For a moment, the girl wondered why she was on the ship in the first place, but the memories slammed her like a sack of bricks. Vespasian was dead. Her world had been shattered. Anamaria clapped a hand to her mouth as the tears pushed themselves up from her sinuses again. Her father, who saved her life at the tender age of eight. Who nurtured, and cared for her as she grew up. The same man who disciplined her with patience, and held her when she cried.

He. Was. Dead.

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Bliss.

It swirled, and churned in the ever-echoing abyss that was his mind, burning coals too hot for the skin into his subconscious. Everything around him was a black, smouldering rasp of charcoal hope, kindled with the strike of a fallen match, and each gurgling breath was a subtle chance for survival. Hate, greed, lust, vengeance, all-too-far for what one mind could fathom, but between these primitive emotions, there was a trickle of white light. Something forgotten a long, long time ago.

His whole person was a longing for breath. Each willful attempt was made perfect by some unseen censer, or an even more powerful force of which none knew existed. A wonderful feeling returned to him, and that was the arresting grasp of the force which had abandoned him so long ago, and, like a traitorous dog reverting back to the master it had bitten, so was the force to he. It perpetrated itself to his every being, urging him with perfumed strength to continue a cumbersome battle for life, and manifested itself within his longing body like the dry soil soaks water.

No more chains...

No more whips...

Bliss.
In a peaked facet, it was like seeing himself anew. Without a ravenous hunger to be accepted by those he held worthy to be loyal, life was unstressed. Certainly, there were confessions, and other ramblings to be made, but he was free. Free, like a cotton blossom to be taken by the destiny called wind, and go where it pleased. This... this was life. He only wished that his light-starved eyes would open, in a shadowed request to observe himself as this new creature.

'Well, you're free.'

'Yep.'

'Free as a bird.'

'Yep.'

'What are you going to do now?'

'Sleep off whatever massive hangover I just experienced.'

'Really?'

'I though you were going to leave me alone...'

'Nope.'

'I'd really, REALLY like to sleep.'

'Okay.'

'...'

'What?'

'Go away.'

'Okay. Bye.'

Tangled thorns, and flowers, all standing in a bunch. But to their heart's unconscious dreams, they cannot live as such. Little red chrysanthemums, and rose's sharpened spines. They realize where their true fate lies, but in the end they die.

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A fitful sleep engulfed her brain that night, but her dreams were those of prosperity, and happiness. It stationed her far away from whatever Hell she had just experienced.

Anamaria first dreamed that she was standing on a riverbank, and all sorts of beautiful flowers surrounded her. The sky was pink, and the grass was blue, and a fish popped out of the water with Vespasian's head. She laughed. Then, Anakin came out of the ground, all dressed in black. Huge wings sprouted from his shoulders, but they had fallen to the ground at his feet, twisted, and broken. They were also black. He smiled, though. That impish smile which every boy cannot hide.

Then, in her second dream, she imagined herself on a planet not unlike Tattooine. She was washing dishes in a stone sink, and her belly bulged with child. Outside of the window, a sandstorm of flower petals raged, and several pod racers flew by. She waved, and they waved back.

Last of all, in her third dream, she saw herself on a lush planet, wet with morning dew. A white sun was rising, and it was very quiet. She strained to listen for any sound, but it was a fruitless attempt. Suddenly, a mango plopped into her hands. Anamaria took a bite, and it tasted like fish. She took another bite, and it tasted like grapes. The wind blew, and it rushed about her body like wrappings, carrying with it: a voice. She strove to hear it, but only the last words came to her ears before she woke up.

'They realize where their true fate lies, but in the end they die.'

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"Master?"

"Hold fast, Anakin. I'm putting the ship into overdrive. Coruscant's five day's worth of flying, and we need to report this to Yoda. Fast."

'Anamaria still hasn't awoken, and that dunderhead Sith is dying... God, what have I gotten us into?'

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A/N: Okee dokee. Yeah, this is a weird one. I hope that this chapter is better than the last few have been. I'm typing in lightspeed, now, and trying to make the chapters equally good. Sorry if I've been taking so long, though. I have been very busy with preparing other stories for publishment, and the strain is killing me. ^__^;;;

FREAK: Well... hm... I really don't know whether to take that comment as derogatory, or encouraging, but if there's something wrong with my story, please let me know. Cuz, well... I'm fifteen. I'm not perfect. (Just check my report card!) @_@