"NOOOOOOOOOO!" He felt her pain as easily as if it were his own. For the seconds that it persisted it was a relentless, tormenting, and eternal darkness. Still in the middle of his briefing to Senator Mothma, he collapsed and crumpled onto the floor. By the time Obi-Wan knelt beside him his tears were unfiltered. He felt her pain, and it was worse than any pain he would ever feel from himself.
"He took her. He took her from me," Anakin mumbled on the floor.
It is your choice, a sinister voice echoed in his mind. The fate of Padme's life is up to you.
Obi-Wan did not need an explanation; he knew only one thing could stab his friend's heart so deeply as to render his friend with such despair and pain.
"I'm sorry," he said in a conciliatory way.
"Sorry? Sorry? Sorry doesn't bring Padme back, Obi-Wan." There was nothing but rage in Anakin now as he pulled himself up. Everyone in the room with the exception of Obi-Wan backed away warily from him. Violent vibes radiated from his heart in every direction, attacking and savaging the senses even of those who were not sensitive to the Force. It took all of his self-control not to reign bloody and random destruction, to end his entire miserable existence right there on the spot, damn the bystanders.
Maintaining his upright stance was every much a weary task as maintaining his fragile state of mind. Slowly rationale returned. Padme, he realized, she's still alive. I can't help her if I can't even help myself. Regaining his composure took more concentration than even his deepest meditations. He struggled with the conflicting and tempestual forces swirling around him. The problem was not his access or grasp of the Force; it was that the whirlwinds of the Force itself were overloading his abilities to contain it. He grappled with the very concept of the Force in all its lightness and darkness.
Anakin tried to attune himself to the Living Force. It was this empathy that allowed him to feel Padme's pain. It was that pain that urged him to inflict pain upon all that surrounded him.
Pain. Pain was his catalyst. His own pain. His wife's pain. His mentor's pain. He felt that too. He felt Obi-Wan's anguish, his grief for Anakin, his guilt. Anakin hated him for losing Padme. It was his fault. He had not covered his tracks well enough. He had not provided her with ample protection. But Anakin felt Obi-Wan's pain too, the pain of letting down a friend. Did he truly want to inflict more pain upon him? What would it really accomplish?
Pain. Pain was his grace. Pain was his skill. Pain was his cause. Pain was his meaning. Pain became Anakin Skywalker, and pain could have never found a more able embodiment. Did he really need a logical and rational reason to inflict pain? If Palpatine could cause so much pain in a woman so beautiful, so pure, so perfect, then was there any virtue or chivalry left in the galaxy? The threshold for reason had been crossed when pain had been inflicted upon the innocent. That was his permission now. If Padme was in pain, no one else in the galaxy deserved to be spared. It was his job now, his duty. He would be the Force. He would be the avenger. He would spread her pain, his pain. He would force everyone in the galaxy to feel it, starting with the poor souls on the ship. Starting with Obi-Wan.
And where would the pain go? Where would it end? The Unifying Force spoke to Anakin, and he caught a glimpse of a dark vision. He was a horrible creature, part man, part machine, all Vader. And Vader was inflicting pain. He was torturing, and the object of his meager attention was a beautiful woman with chocolate brown hair and a flowing white robe that seemed to glow like a fragile flower in the dark room. The room was small, cold, and bare. She screamed in pain. And did Vader enjoy inflicting that pain? Hardly. He was indifferent. He saw only an object. A means to an end. What had originally began as his own empathy had cut off his very connection with the Living Force. The girl was in pain. The beautiful girl. The innocent girl, so pure in her ideals. Just like Padme. Now Anakin felt the pain of realization. His indifference had blinded him. He didn't even see, or rather, he couldn't even feel his own daughter. Padme's daughter. The threshold had been crossed once again.
Leia.
Pain. Pain was his curse. Pain was his virtue. He needed to escape. They needed to escape. From him. His open eyes finally gained sight of his actual surroundings again. The generals, the politicians, the aides, the single Jedi Master, they had all been caught in his transfixing state. He realized that not a word had been spoken since he last hurled his accusations at his old master. Anakin would never know how much time actually transpired between those sentences.
"Set the coordinates," he ordered. "We will go to Coruscant." These statements were the polar opposites of their predecessors. They were spoken without emotion, without tone. And yet they were the exact duplicates of their predecessors in that both were born out of extreme pain. The former ones revealed the pain in all its glory, the latter did all that it could do to conceal it.
It seemed to him that his whole life the past year had been a race. He had shuffled from planet to planet, gathering the remaining Jedi. He played the political game with his own life on the table as he recruited his fellow Senators into a deadly trap that could consume them all. In the final legs of the race it had been his cause to diffuse the trap. To reveal the trap for what it was. A trap that had been in the making for decades. A trap that had already been sprung. Now, as he approached the finish line, Bail Organa prayed to anyone and no one in particular that the race was not already lost.
He had all the evidence he needed. More than enough evidence to convince even the most spineless of Palpatine supporters of their Emperor's evil and duplicity. The transmissions between Darth Sidious and the Separatist Leaders that originated in Palpatine's office were damning enough, but the real gem was a holo-recording he found from a moon of Yavin.
For a man who rarely left Coruscant during his term as Supreme Chancellor, Bail had found it extremely interesting that the only official record of any trip Palpatine made off planet was to Yavin IV. He spent a week there, about a year before the beginning of the Clone Wares, dedicating an indigenous temple as a historic site of the Republic. Further inquiries found the revelation that the temple had a history of the Dark Side and was locally rumored to be haunted by long dead Sith Lords. Bail had shrugged off the creepy feelings he felt as he walked through the temple and to his delight discovered a holo-recorder hidden in the corner of one of its main chambers.
Apparently the Kun Temple, as the locals called it, was a haven for many young derelicts who found their identities as occult worshippers. As he played the recordings on his journey through hyperspace, Bail listened halfheartedly as some fool documented his group's attempts to resurrect some ancient spirit from beyond the grave. What really perked Bail's interest was the timing of the recording. The cult group's pathetic ceremonies were cut short with the arrival of the Supreme Chancellor and a small entourage of Senators. Bail watched the dedication ceremony as Palpatine gave a short and formal speech about the Temple's roles in the ancient wars of the Republic.
The recorder went into hibernation as activity in the chamber ceased, but was reactivated two days later by the motion of two figures walking into the main chamber. Bail Organa was not surprised to see two men in dark hoods. One of them lowered his hood as he talked to the other. Dooku. The other one Organa knew enough to be a mysterious Dark Lord of the Sith named Darth Sidious. After a short conversation, the two men sat down on the cold floor of the temple in meditative positions. Sidious himself finally lowered his hood. Auspiciously the two men faced the recorder, and Bail was not surprised to see the face of Palpatine under the hood of the Sith Master.
He had all the evidence he needed now and he would present it to the Senate. What the Senate did with the evidence, however, was beyond his control. With the Senate lacking true power under Sidious, Bail realized he may as well be giving his life to only discredit the Emperor in the eyes of his powerless lackeys. He hoped that this foundation would help factor in the ultimate showdown between Palpatine and the Jedi, and that should his friends succeed, any government that followed would recognize the evil of the Emperor.
Time was running out as Bail's cruiser raced through space towards Coruscant. The Emperor had, to his dismay, temporarily disbanded the Senate. Bail knew enough to understand that the word temporary under the Empire could be defined as forever. The Emperor had called for one final meeting of the Senate, and that meeting, which Bail prayed that he would make on time, would be his last chance to present the evidence that he had so painstakingly uncovered.
Padme awoke from a nightmare only to find herself living in it. The room was pitch black. She lay crumpled on the floor, she knew. As she gathered herself up, she felt the chilling specter of something darker than the darkness moving. There was something else in the room. Something that was darker than the pitch black itself.
An old-fashioned Nubian wax candle lit itself in a corner, and its weak light spread to her eyes. She saw the shadow across from her in the room. It sat opposite her, staring through her into oblivion.
"Senator Amidala of Naboo," croaked the shadow. "Do you like this candle? One rarely sees such an antiquity these days, but did you know that they were quite common in the Dark Ages of Naboo? Kings and nobles conducted inquisitions against their rivals in the candlelight."
Padme barely heard the history lesson that Palpatine offered. As she stared at the shadow of a man she couldn't begin to grasp the level of hatred she felt towards him.
"You." That was the only word that she could muster out. It had been easy to reasonably oppose such a man in the abstract. Now that he was here in her presence, with the full knowledge of his betrayal, it was impossible for Padme to control her hatred for the thing. He wasn't a man, she told himself. He didn't deserve to be classified as a living, sentient being. The man who betrayed the Republic, who betrayed his own planet and hers. The man who betrayed her husband, who tried to turn him into a monster. Who succeeded in that task.
"You," she repeated again and again with all the venom her soul could offer. She damned him to the worst hells imaginable. She damned his accomplices, his supporters, his lackeys, his pawns, those who brought him to power, those who continued to support him. She cursed and damned them all in her mind, even if that list had included herself.
"I am impressed by your hatred, Senator." The shadow got up and floated across the room. "Perhaps in another life you would've have been a powerful Sith Lord in your own right."
"You, you are an abomination." Padme wished a million deaths upon the thing standing before her. She stood up and faced him defiantly. Surprisingly he did not strike her down in any fashion.
"My dear, naïve, Padme. I am merely a reflection of the Galaxy." His mention of her name sent chills down her spine.
"No, you are evil. You don't deserve to live in this galaxy." It was her galaxy, Padme told herself. The galaxy she had worked so hard to protect, to preserve. The galaxy she had devoted her life to. Destroyed in a single stroke by the bottomless pit of a despot. Or was it a million small strokes, many of them authored by herself?
"I am but merely one man, Senator. Aren't we Nubians people of the arts?" He seemed to stress the fact that Sidious and Padme were natives of the same planet. "Consider me an artist then, if you will. A sculptor. It is my calling in life that I am to create, to mold great sculptures, according to my visions of what art is. But I can only mold with the clay that is given to me, Senator."
Sidious flicked his hand and the steel covers on the wall receded to expose the majestic view of Coruscant floating in space. Staring at it, Padme felt sick to her stomach. What was once a great planet, the pillar of civilization itself, was now the center of the evil that was the Empire. No, she told herself. That center of evil wasn't the planet. It was wherever Palpatine stood and breathed.
"Oh, but you are wrong, Senator Amidala. Coruscant, the Empire, the galaxy, it is all my sculpture, my art. But I created it with only what was given to me. The darkness in the hearts of both the wicked and the virtuous is my clay." Palpatine walked up beside Padme as both of them looked out the window of the ship down onto the planet. "As I said, I am merely a mirror of the galaxy," he said almost helplessly, "and so is this piece of artwork that I have worked my life to create. The Senate's greed, its ambition, its lust for comfort, for power, that has always been there. The corruption that exists in the politicians precedes us by millennia, Senator, and its darkness will live on long after we are gone." Of course, it was left unsaid that Sidious personally didn't plan on being 'gone' for a very long time.
Padme recoiled as she heard and saw the Emperor standing by her side. As she backed away from him her legs seemed to lose all strength and she fell to the ground. The Emperor of the known galaxy did not seem to notice as he continued.
"I fed them what they wanted. I gave the Senators, the people their deepest, darkest desires. That, Senator Amidala, is the microcosm of the Empire. Not me. I am merely one man."
She wanted to argue back. She wanted to yell that he had lied and manipulated it all. That everyone else was merely bystanders, victims of the dark. But why couldn't she say it? Why wouldn't the words come out of her mouth? Because she saw the truth in his words. He had given her what she wanted.
…I move for a vote of no confidence in the supreme chancellor…
She had wanted to save her planet, her people. Her intentions had been pure. Her thoughts turned to Anakin, when he turned. He wanted to save her life. His intentions had been pure. How did such intentions become so twisted and result in such evil, such devastation? And what of the other Senators, the corrupt and the greedy? What became of their ill intentions? Padme did not want to know. The cancer, she realized, lay not in their intentions. The cancer lay within her, within Anakin, within everyone.
Her comprehension couldn't take it anymore as she forced herself to change the subject. "Where's my son," she asked. "Where's Luke?"
"Do not worry about your loved ones. Luke is sleeping peacefully in the next room. Do you really believe that I mean to harm my future apprentice?"
Padme was already exhausted from this conversation with the Sith Lord. Every word he said opened up a little box of horrors for her. Every sentence inflicted more pain upon her guilty heart. She felt dirty besides him. She was afraid that his evil was rubbing off on her. Death would only be a welcome escape.
But she could not die. She remembered her promise to Anakin. As much as being in the presence of a Sith Lord scared her, as much as residing on the dark planet of Korriban scared her, none of that came close to her worst fear now, that she would break her promise to her Anakin.
"And what of me? Are you going to kill me?"
"That," said Sidious calmly, "will depend entirely on the choice of your husband."
Obi-Wan approached his former apprentice warily. It wasn't that he was afraid of how Anakin would react. He had felt the emotions that raged through his old Padawan. For a few seconds Obi-Wan feared for his own life as well as the lives of the others around them. The battle had just been won, and now the leaders of the rebellion were about to be killed by one of their own as Obi-Wan felt the darkness engulf him.
And then in midst of the darkness Obi-Wan thought he saw a light. He blinked at first, thinking that it was a mere mirage of his fast descending hopes, but when he opened his eyes again the light was even stronger, shining through and penetrating Anakin's despair. The light contained his rage like a damn, and a sudden calmness came over him.
Obi-Wan wasn't afraid of Anakin. It was what Anakin felt that scared him. It scared him because he had never felt such emotions before. But Anakin felt them, the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. And to Obi-Wan's surprise, he was able to deal with them, balance them, almost. Did he even know his own Padawan anymore? He corrected himself. Anakin wasn't his Padawan. He seemed like a stranger now. Obi-Wan almost wished that he could bring the old Anakin back, turbulence and all.
Anakin stood by the window, looking out into hyperspace. If he felt Obi-Wan approaching he didn't acknowledge it.
"I'm sorry, Anakin. I never should have let Padme and Luke leave like that." Silence. He continued: "You were right, I should have accompanied them."
"No," Anakin said without flinching. "The Emperor attacked them and took them himself. There is nothing you could have done about that, even if you were there. Had you gone with them, I would lost a brother and a friend as well as a wife and a son."
"Can you still feel them, Anakin? Are they all right?" Obi-Wan was sincerely concerned for Anakin's family. He could not imagine living with himself if anything were to happen to them.
"They are safe, for now. I know that." Anakin's eyes still stared out into space. "I'm the one that Sidious wants. He will not do anything to them until he's done with me."
"So you're going to face him."
"Yes."
"Are you ready for that? Do you think you can win? How are you going to accomplish what Master Yoda couldn't even accomplish?"
For a minute Anakin didn't respond. He continued to look out into space, as if he were looking for something. Or someone.
"She's out there somewhere, Obi-Wan. Leia," he said with emphasis. "My daughter." Anakin finally turned around to face Obi-Wan. "You know, on Mustafar I saw visions of my children. I saw them as young adults. As I held Padme's hand while she giving birth to the twins, I did not bother to help her name them. I already knew their names." He paused as he reminisced over that memory. "And yet, I still can't express to you how I felt when she said those two words. Luke. Leia. It felt like a dream come true. It felt like a miracle, I thought. Our children. And now I know that I had known the truth. They are miracles."
Obi-Wan thought it odd that Anakin's eyes were filled with delight in this darkest of hours. Perhaps he is deluding himself, he thought. Perhaps this is how he calms himself before the battle of his life. Perhaps, Obi-Wan thought as he joined Anakin's side by the window, he knows something that I don't.
"Leia," Anakin whispered softly into the air again and again. My miracle. My savior. My light in the darkness.
Wow. Over 10000 hits. Over 100 reviews. I am truly humbled. Sorry about the long wait in updates. This chapter, while it wasn't that hard to write, was hard to start and continue with. The story is almost over now, and the next chapter I am hoping will be out very soon as I've already gone over it in my head a thousand times. I would like to thank everyone who has taken the time to read this and to review this. Especially those of you (you know who you are) that have painstakingly reviewed every chapter. Thank you so much.