Chapter Twelve
Vader glanced over Padmé, who was covered only by a thin brown blanket. His medical droid, who was the only one who had seen the full extent of his injuries, was standing by, waiting patiently for Vader.
The Dark Lord finally acknowledged the droid, 4-6C, by raising his head. The droid took this to be a sign, and shuffled forward.
"My Lord, there are many minor punctuations of her skin, and she has been drugged extensively. She is too weak to be submerged in bacta. I am analyzing the samples of her blood currently," it said in a high, monotonous tone.
Vader's gaze seemed to sharpen and intensify.
"No permanent damage? Nothing that could cause the reaction she is having?"
The droid answered negatively.
"Her condition is… unexplainable, my Lord."
Vader turned again to Padmé. If he could have massaged his aching temples, he would have. Instead, he settled for sitting heavily on a chair next to her bedside.
"That will be all," he intoned heavily, sending the droid off.
He felt helpless and angry, his frustration building. What could he do to save her? His mind raced furiously through everything he had been taught as a Sith, finding and discarding possibilities. Finally, he lit on a solution, dubious though it might have been.
He reached out to her hand, not even thinking of the motion, caught up in the race to save her as he was. He felt her hand tighten abruptly on his as her whole body went suddenly rigid, all her muscles tensing. He was tempted to shout for the droid, but that would do no good. The sickness came from in her mind, and that was where he would have to eliminate it.
She relaxed, groaning unconsciously. He knew there was no time, but still took a precious moment to prepare for what he was about to do, steeling himself.
He reached out to her through their connection that had somehow not weakened, even through the years they had been apart, and through the fact that she loathed him.
Padmé, he whispered silently. He closed his eyes, seeing her in his mind… in her mind.
He was overcome by her presence that seemed to be so strong, even as it was fading rapidly. It washed over him in a wave of light, illuminating the darkest corners of his heart.
He felt her coolness and anger towards him. He felt desperate… she had to understand that he was here to help her, to keep her safe.
I am here to save you, he said into her mind. He only was in the smallest portion of her mind, only able to see what she allowed him to see.
He felt her disdain. You, save me from anything?
Desperation clawed at him, sinking its cruel fangs.
You are dying.
What is it you want to do?
He felt hesitation, almost embarrassment. To ask her to allow him this, even to save her…
I need you to open your mind to me.
He felt her incredulousness, to the point where he wanted to laugh with her at the ludicrousness of the idea. When he impressed on her that he was serious, that it was not a joke, her disgust and revulsion swept into him until they mingled with his own self-loathing.
Please, he pleaded. It is the only way to save you from him.
Why should I trust you in anything, let alone in opening my mind?
He broadcasted a vision of how he had seen her, lying limp, fading quickly, almost gone.
He felt her horror and fear before they were quickly repressed.
How do I know you won't try to take my knowledge and use it for your master?
Curiousness overcame him.
What knowledge? What does he want from you?
He felt her withdraw, retreating into the sanctuary of her own mind.
I don't have to tell you anything.
I need to save you! He repeated, feeling closer to loosing her.
He felt her doubt, and as he was close to screaming, an answer came to him.
Fine.
A stream of images rushed into his head; memories, thoughts, all of them pure and radiant. He tried to ignore them, searching for the darkness which was killing her, rushing past memories that he would like to forget.
He found a trace of the shadow; a lingering evil, only a hint of it. He knew that that was not what he wanted, that she had not opened all to him.
Padmé. You have to open everything to me.
He felt along in her mind, gingerly avoiding memories of himself until he was at the shield which she had constructed. He did not try to combat it, but instead avoided it, knowing that it would bring back too many memories of Anakin Skywalker.
You must let me see behind that shield.
You ask too much of me, her answer came.
It is the only way I can save you.
Perhaps I would rather die then give you full access to my mind.
You don't mean that.
She did not answer, and he felt suspended in the network of her mind for what seemed to be like an eternity as she contemplated behind her final shield.
What does it matter, she finally said. He knows… why not you? He was too distracted to pay attention to her words, too caught up in the thought of loosing her again.
He felt her shields drop, taking away the memories of Anakin.
He rushed into her mind, searching only for the shadow, ignoring all her secret memories and private thoughts. Something caught at the corner of his mind, something that whispered fast about children. He frowned and tried to discover what the fleeting thought had been, but was immediately repulsed by the idea, and continued the search for the shadow.
At last he found the shadow, wreathed as it was in darkness and despair. His spirit plummeted when he found that it resided in the darkness of his deeds, that it wallowed in the memory of his sins.
You will not have her, he said firmly to the shadow. He felt the shadow's surprise as well as its anger at being discovered.
You are wrong, the shadow said to him. She is mine, and she will die.
Vader felt hopeless to stop the shadow, for he knew its strength and might. He closed his eyes, gathering a burst of his rage against the shadow for even daring to lay a finger on his wife, his angel.
You will not take her from me! he screamed as he hurtled a bolt of dark power towards the shadow.
The shadow merely cackled as the rage he had summoned up did nothing to harm the shadow, for the shadow was a reflection of the anger, and only absorbed it into itself.
Vader wracked his thoughts and memories for anything that could destroy the shadow, for anything that could dispel it. There was nothing, and he sunk into despair.
A thought came to him, slowly growing on him until it was a possibility instead of a mere fleeting breeze through his mind. He tried to deny it, but the more he struggled against it, the more it gained in strength.
Vader, Lord of the Sith, carefully probed the side of the Force he had dismissed ten years ago, feeling like a child just learning how to master it. It felt like a muscle he did not even know he had, one that had slowly faded from lack of use until it was only a breath. He drew carefully, clumsily on the gentle radiance of it, pulling on his love until he was filled with it. For even a breath would be all he needed.
He sent the light at the shadow until it retreated, hissing back. Vader sensed that it was more powerful, that it could have overpowered him if it had chosen to, but that it had not. He sensed all around her mind again until he was certain that the shadow had gone. He retreated, noting that as soon as he was gone, her shields locked firmly in place, sealing him out once again.
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Vader came back to himself. The first thing he noticed was the hand firmly locked around his, grasping tightly to the folds of his black glove.
Padmé, he thought, looking to her.
Sweat was beaded on her face, and she still looked an unnatural pale, with her eyes sunk into her face darkly.
But her chest rose and fell naturally in the pattern of sleep, and her hand released his slowly before falling against the metal platform she was raised onto.
Vader suddenly was aware of his own weariness, and he was too tired to feel even the beginnings of elation, too fatigued to celebrate her life and his triumph over the shadow. He had not realized what it meant to be weary, to long for rest until every fiber of him longed for sleep, and his eyes closed in dreamless exhaustion.