Chapter Twenty-Three - Dreams and Nightmares

Fresh linen…the sour smell of sterility…it smelled like this when Master Alanna had given him the cloning treatment…

Then Obi-Wan remembered. The wonderful day, telling Padmé that he loved her, the battle with Darth Vader. I can't be dead, I still have a body, he reasoned. And I hurt too much to be dead.

Thank goodness I'm not; I'm betrothed. "Padmé," he murmured, smiling through his hurt.

"Sshhh, drink this," said a soothing voice. He tasted sweet and tumbled back into dreams.


It was the sunlight that woke him this time. It blazed full in his face and reflected up from his blanket, bathing him in heat and light. Obi-Wan blinked and was rewarded with pain, which made him aware of aches throughout his body – his chest, left hip, and head.

A healer entered the room. Obi-Wan had a hundred questions, but when he opened his mouth, the only thing he managed to croak out was, "Padmé."

The healer smiled. "Well, look who's awake." She checked over him in silence, poking and prodding, making him wince in spite of her gentle touch. When she was finished, she said, "You gave us quite a scare, Master Kenobi. I've never seen wounds quite like these. It took some extensive work to repair your ribs and replace your hip." The healer folded her arms. "If you tell me what happened to you, I might be able to get you patched up faster."

Raising his eyebrow hurt, but it was the only response he gave her. He just wanted to see Padmé and the children.

The healer sighed and pulled out a comlink. Thumbing a switch, she said quietly, "He's awake." She busied herself with updating his records for a few minutes while they waited.

After what seemed like forever, the sound of running feet reached their ears. The door opened and he smiled – Here she comes.

But it was Laurae who entered. "Force be praised, you're alive!" She looked glum underneath her smile.

"Barely," he replied as the healer left. "Where's –"

"The twins are safely hidden in another part of the Palace Complex, and they're being taken care of," Laurae babbled. She poured a cup of water for him and put it to his lips.

He drank gratefully, but he was not to be dissuaded for long. "Padmé," he prompted. She looked at the floor. "Lieutenant?"

"General, she ordered me to stay outside the nursery, and she stood guard just inside the house. I heard a blaster and some kind of electonic whooshing noise, and she cried out, but I didn't come out until Lord Vader left and she called for me." Laurae sniffed. "I thought she was okay, she said it was a flesh wound and sent me out to find you, once I called the Palace Guard. But when I came back inside, she was gone." She breathed in and out quickly and covered her eyes with her hand.

Obi-Wan didn't understand, refused to understand. "Gone."

Laurae's chin trembled. "The healers said that the blaster bolt pierced her stomach, there wouldn't be anything they could do, even if she'd been shot here in a surgery room," she whispered, grief thickening her voice to near-unintelligibility.

Obi-Wan blinked. His mouth felt dry as paper as he watched the tears stream down Laurae's face. Every fiber of his being wanted to deny it, but the Force confirmed the truth of her statement. His chest spasmed painfully, for he'd forgotten to breathe. "What?"

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm so sorry," Laurae wept quietly.

He wasn't listening. Instead, Obi-Wan reached out with the Force. He found the children in another part of the Palace Complex. Luke sensed the probe and began to call for his mother. Leia joined in as their worried, despairing caretakers tried to comfort them. Obi-Wan withdrew, remorse coursing through his veins.

Searching for guidance, Obi-Wan snagged a filament of Light, and it told him the same thing it had when he learned of the genocide of the Jedi: Acknowledge your sorrow.

"Please watch over the children, Lieutenant." Laurae stood. She opened Kenobi's hand, and placed the delicate silver bracelet in the large palm. Then the young woman saluted and left him alone in the chamber. Obi-Wan's tired, broken body succumbed to tremors of grief as he wept for his love.


If I could only ask for one thing in my entire life, I wouldn't have to any more.

Obi-Wan remembered saying it. He hadn't known it then, but it was a lie. How was he to know that those few, precious minutes were all he would have, and that it would not be enough? That Kenobi would not feel Padmé's touch, her kiss, her sweet Force sense ever again?

His face wet, Obi-Wan thought back over the last three years. Padmé had been present in every minute of conscious thought: the dread that he carried as he'd traveled to Naboo, believing that the news of Anakin's death would make her hate him; his concern for her well-being; his concern for the babies' well-being; the tender attachment that developed; the separation that forced him to leave. Duty had become devotion a long time ago.

Chaos, the children…

The possible future of the children dissolved into hopeless nonexistence as he tried to recall what it looked like. The voices and hugs from the might-have-been family were a memory of a dream. Even the twins that really did exist were strangers.

What am I supposed to do now? Why should I bother to live and heal if I can't share the rest of my life with you!

Padmé had changed him into a normal, loving man for a day, but now he had awakened. Reality exploded all over Obi-Wan like a proton torpedo, and the agony was acute. Recalling his daydreams of being a father and husband were torment. There was no future now; at least, none that he could possibly look forward to.

"I didn't die when he did. I have a future, and I have hope." Her words came unbidden to his mind, and Obi-Wan felt each syllable settle under his skin, despair that razored through his body.

This was much worse then losing Anakin or Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan had desperately wanted to cease to exist when his knight-master, his father, had been slain all those years ago. He had forced himself to keep breathing because of the promise he'd made to train Anakin.

At present, breathing was an affliction. Padmé had told him dozens of times after Anakin first disappeared that he didn't know what she was going through, and she was right. Losing a friend was nothing like losing a love. Now Obi-Wan had an idea; he'd lost his future, his happiness, his tranquility. He would never forgive himself.

This is one of the reasons that attachment was forbidden. This is what Master Alanna went through when Qui-Gon died. Force help me, I can't take this...


Vader entered the Emperor's Throne Room and knelt a respectful distance from Palpatine.

"You are back early, Lord Vader."

"I did not complete my mission on Narendra, my Master."

Yellow eyes glared down at him from under the black cowl. "You had better have a good reason for disobeying my orders, my young apprentice."

Vader's heart beat faster. As powerful as he knew he was, the Emperor was stronger, more cunning. He told Palpatine about sensing the Jedi Knight while in orbit, the delay due to maintenance, then going to Naboo and hunting for Obi-Wan. He spoke of the duel and Padmé's assassination attempt. Though his voice never wavered, unseen tears pooled in Vader's eyes as he finished by telling the Emperor how he had left his wife and knight-master for dead. "I swept the area with the Force, Master, no one else was there," he concluded.

"Did you examine the house visually, Lord Vader?" growled Palpatine.

"No. My eyes are still weak, and my mask limits my vision." Vader steeled himself for a reprimand. That was the only thing he preferred about Kenobi's tutelage, he reflected, then he chided himself. The harsher punishment would be absorbed faster.

Palpatine stood up and stepped off the dais. No reproof came. "Rise, my friend." Vader obeyed, his apprehension fading. The Emperor had never called him that before, like an equal. "You are sure that they were alone? No handmaidens, no children?"

"I am, Master."

"I will confide in you, Lord Vader, that even though she no longer was in public service, your wife was a threat to us. And so was the Jedi you defeated. You have proved your loyalty to me on Naboo. Though you have not quite cleansed him from yourself, you are Anakin Skywalker no longer. Our victory is complete.

"Power and wealth beyond your imaginings shall be yours, Lord Vader, such is my gratitude."

"I thank you, my Master." A ghost of a grin began under the mask, but smiling hurt, so it disappeared just as quickly. He thought about what he'd done, and the pleasure at his master's praise was replaced by sorrow.

The Emperor picked it up, of course. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You must master your emotions, my young apprentice. Compassion can lead to your undoing, so smother it now. Purge the remnants of Anakin from yourself. A Master of the Dark Side has no sympathy, no compassion. There is no room in a Sith for weakness or grief." Palpatine dismissed Vader, with orders to rest and return to Narendra in two days.


In his pressurized, sterile quarters, Vader floated in a large bath. The lights were out; he didn't want to catch any glimpse of his own scarred, mutilated body. Unsupported by his armor, not a single limb was intact, and ninety percent of his remaining skin was charred. For once, though, that wasn't what was troubling him.

He had murdered his own wife. Vader didn't recognize her in time. He hadn't adjusted his saber blade so the bolt would deflect harmlessly to the side. Vader ignited his weapon at the exact moment that the blaster discharged, and it was kill or be killed.

What he wouldn't give for enough warning. He'd harbored dreams of finding Padmé and bringing her to live with him, somehow. A part of Vader's mind whispered that she'd never come without being under permanent sedation, that she'd hate what he was now, but he brushed it aside.

Shmi Skywalker's face drifted before him in the darkened room; she looked disappointed. Mom had liked Padmé.

Other faces appeared in his mind's eye. Padmé, Masters Windu and Yoda, Obi-Wan, then two that he didn't recognize, except through deduction. The young woman looked a lot like Padmé, and the man had Anakin's eyes. Vader remembered how Anakin and Padmé had talked about having children, what it would mean to them, it had been one of his hopes. But a child would still be so young that Padmé would have it with her, and nobody else had been there at that ramshackle house.

Come to think of it, how had she hidden? When Vader had entered the clearing, he hadn't sensed anyone but his former knight-master. Not just Obi-Wan and another person with amazing mental shields. The Sith Lord would swear on all that he knew to be true that he and Kenobi were completely alone. Except for that little flicker when I first arrived...

Alone. Well, he was for certain, now, except for his Master. The two people dearest to Anakin betrayed him with each other. There were a few scattered Jedi left, Master Yoda was not accounted for, but the little troll would certainly die of old age some time before Vader did. Perhaps even before the Emperor did.

No handsome son, no sweet, smart daughter. No baby to soothe and cradle against his chest. Not that a baby could be comfortable against his chest, it was all scar tissue, rough and leathery. No skinned knees to kiss and make better. No child to apprentice.

Darth Vader had widowed Anakin Skywalker. Salty tears dripped into the purified water as Anakin sobbed in grief. The tears did not cease when he moved to the anti-gravity cylinder that served as his bedroom. His dreams tortured him, reminding him of everything he'd lost – everything he'd thrown away.


Author's Note: Please forgive my slackness; I've been sick ever since the Semester from Hell ended six weeks ago. Responses to unanswered reviews will be posted in a later chapter, but please keep them coming! I live on them.