Chapter Eleven

Padmé froze as he uttered the words, her mind being yanked out of the fog down to cruel, harsh reality. Her shoulders stiffened, and she turned away from Vader hurriedly before he could see the look in her eyes.

"I cannot discuss this with you," she whispered raggedly. "Not now." Her mind spun wildly as she foresaw two choices, two paths. He could save their children, could get to them before the Emperor… but would she want him to? What would he do once he had his offspring in his hands? He was far more powerful then her, and she could not protect them from him…

She felt him come up behind her, and she felt an abrupt, irrational fear that he was going to touch her in a way that Anakin would have, with a hand on her shoulder or arms around her waist. He did not.

"I have a right to know," he said. "I am the father."

Now she turned to him, her eyes alight with sorrow and rage.

"You lost all rights," she hissed, "When you tried to choke the life out of me."

It was the first time she had spoken about Mustafar, and even as it felt liberating, it stung and burned. She found herself teetering on the brink of despair, scrabbling to hold on to herself as she relived the nightmare she had endured.

She sensed that her words had unsettled Vader, had somehow moved him. She collected her thoughts as he stood helplessly before her.

"Anakin Skywalker was the father," she whispered softly. "Not you. Never."

Her frantic thinking reached on a solution, which she was able to grasp and hold onto.

"But," she continued, "Because you asked and I am merciful, I will tell you." She stepped up to Vader, her face only a few centimeters away from his.

"My children," she said with soft intensity, "Died the day you tried to kill me." She felt his reaction, a blast of hurt and regret, hitting her with cutting intensity before they disappeared, vanishing behind Vader's mental shields.

It was a long time before either of them spoke. She remained that way, staring into his mask for what seemed like an eternity, both of them struggling with emotions that neither could handle. Vader turned his head away at last, taking a few steps away from her side.

"Children?" He asked with what might have been a hint of hesitation.

Her confidence and anger began to sink to a deeper place within her, leaving her exhausted and almost unable to speak.

"Yes, children. Twins, a boy and a girl."

A thought struck her, that this thing within the monster that stood before her was the only remnant of Anakin Skywalker, and that she was just telling him that his children died. For one, powerful second, she wanted to whisper his name and tell him that it was a lie, that their children lived and that they were beautiful, so beautiful…

The moment faded as she swayed, suddenly possessed by almost overpowering pain that came in a fresh burst as she almost collapsed on the floor.

"Padmé!" Vader cried out her name in fear as he rushed forward to brace her. Her eyes met his lucidly for a moment, and they seemed immeasurably tragic, bearing the weight the world's sorrows. She collapsed then, falling into his arms for the third time.

He felt anger rising up in him then, strong and powerful. It was the same kind of anger that he had felt when he had been told of her death. You killed her, his master again said, with only the hint of a smile on his deformed face. You.

He set his anger and guilt aside as he felt her through the Force. She was fading, fast, her life-force being stripped away by the Emperor even as she rested in Vader's hold. He tried to probe further into her mind, to find what he had done to her, but was immediately met by a shield he had not expected.

He saw visions of himself, from when he was young and wide-eyed. Was I ever that innocent? He saw himself as she saw him, strong and noble, her Jedi protector, her knight. He saw visions of himself when he was older, holding her in his arms…

He had forgotten what it was like to be Anakin, and for a moment, he lived those memories from his perspective, thinking dazedly, this is me. He felt everything in the span of a few seconds, until he managed to wrench himself out, to rescue himself.

He came back to Vader, to the man he had been for the last ten years, consumed by his own hatred, burning in his own flame. This is me, he told himself. This is me. For a blinding instant, he wished he could go back, return to being Anakin Skywalker, but then it was gone.

He gathered her in his arms, the most precious thing he would ever hold, and prepared to take her further up, to where his medical droid could heal her body, even as he tried to rescue her mind.