Chapter Twenty-Two
It was Padmé that finally broke the kiss. She did not step back, but allowed his arms to encircle her. Peace and love had swept over her too, and for the first time, she felt truly safe. She stroked the side of his face softly, barely even noticing his deformity.
"I would stay in your arms forever if I could," she whispered. Tears of joy pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she relaxed in his hold, content to be safe. She had missed simply being with him so much, missed being able to have him encircle her until there was nothing else in the world besides them.
She allowed them one more moment of sweet peace before she turned to him.
"We risk exceeding thirty minutes, Anakin."
He turned to her, and she saw a flash of bitter resentment in his eyes that unnerved her.
"If this is the only price we pay, we should consider ourselves blessed," she reminded him. The anger disappeared, leaving a look of weariness in his eyes even through the love and joy that surrounded them.
"We will find a way," she persisted. "You will not live in that suit forever."
"It is what I deserve." The words were not marked with bitterness or anger towards himself; it was a simple statement of fact.
She nodded.
"Yes, it is, but through grace and mercy, we will find a way."
He took her by the hand, needing no more words. He led her like a small child to behind his bed, where 4-6C waited impassively. She saw the helmet of Vader lying on a small table next to a large chair and swallowed. It would not be easy to watch him return to the mask that was a symbol of dark, mystical power and hate.
Only then did he turn around to face her.
"Even behind the mask, it will still be me. Nothing will have changed… love."
It was the first time he had called her love, and the rightness of it, the feeling that he should always call her 'love' flared up in her, making a grin come across her face.
"I will know," she whispered with sincerity. She captured his gloved cybernetic hand and brought it up for him to feel her say the words, laying his hand on her lips. "I promise."
4-6C had grasped the front part of the mask with one of its long, spindly digits, and was waiting calmly for Anakin.
He sat down on the chair, his eyes never leaving hers, firmly grasping her hand. No words were needed between them.
I love you, he said through their connection.
She smiled, and allowed the peace and benevolence that came from within her to wash over him.
The face-mask steadily lowered until it hovered directly over his eyes, which still held the strength of Anakin Skywalker. Then the mask lowered, and she saw the impassive black mask of Vader. But his presence in the Force did not dim or waver, and she knew that everything would be fine. His grip on her hand tightened, and she realized how it must hurt him to return to the confines of his old life when he had just begun to start anew.
The helmet lowered until the transformation was complete. 4-6C pressed a few buttons on the buttons that regulated Vader's breathing, and the hissing that accompanied the dark mask breathing started again.
Only he did not seem the same, not to her. The mask and suit were just as frightening and intimidating as before, but the aura he gave off of limitless power and fear was gone. He was transformed, she realized with a deep feeling of contentment in her heart. He was reborn, leaving forever his old self behind.
She reached out to him through their bond. She could sense something that glimmered beneath the surface of his soul. She used her rudimentary powers to seek it out, to discern its nature. When she finally realized what it was, she gasped.
There was power that flowed in Anakin. She could sense the way it moved, the way his whole self was illuminated in the glowing rays of the Force. She had only begun to understand the sense that everything around her contained a seed of the light, and to find her husband was illuminated with it, that some part of him was the light, that he only had to reach out to encompass his true potential, even though he was weakened and crippled…
"You're beautiful, love," she murmured distractedly, too caught up in the flow of his gentle strength to mind what she was saying. She did not open her eyes, even though she sensed him stand up behind her.
She sensed him catch just a part of the magnificent light and use it to caress her through their bond, warming all her senses. She was floating, suspended, breathing, dancing in love. She let loose a gentle breath of contentment.
His arms encircled her, reaching around her stomach. It was an awkward move since he was much taller then her and had all the bulk that came with the suit of Vader, but she recognized its intent.
"Anakin," she sighed, and it was the name of the man who had loved her so many years ago on Naboo. The two Anakins in her eyes melded together, forming one single, unwavering image before her eyes.
He slowly began to rub her stomach, and her shoulders tensed before she realized what he was doing.
"Our children," he murmured in her ear, and she felt a sense of loss permeate her through the Force, cutting in its intensity. When he had been Vader, he could have not mourned them, and now that he was Anakin, he could truly grieve the loss because he had Anakin's desires.
Padmé was tempted to wail and shake with grief, an intense emotion that left her stunned, unable to breathe for a second before she realized that it was Anakin's grief that she was sensing, his sense of mind-shattering pain.
My children are alive, she reminded herself, slowly shaking off the effects of his grief. Luke, she recalled with great effort, remembering her tiny, newborn son. Leia. Great love filled her, and the joy that she felt knew no bounds. She turned to tell him, to blurt out the words. This is the happiest day of my life.
And then she was reminded of the mask, the symbol of who he was, of who he had been. He felt her joy and her hesitation, and his hand moved up to smooth her hair.
"Padmé?"
She wanted to tell him, wanted desperately to blurt out the news. A father, Anakin! You are a father! But something within her told herself to wait. Not yet, her intuition whispered. She frowned, telling it that he should not have to wait any longer. Cold dread seeped into her as she thought of the Emperor.
Too soon, the voice advised. Too soon to tell him; he has just come back to you tonight. Allow him to prove himself. She wanted to tell the voice no, that this was her husband; this was Anakin. If anyone needed to know, it was him. But the voice insisted. Sense his tiredness; it can wait 'til tomorrow.
She reached out to him, and found that indeed he was tired. A profound weariness had settled in him, and she sensed through the joy that he felt that he desired rest. No, she frowned, it can't wait until tomorrow! This is our child. But she felt the slow progression of cold logic in her heart until she was forced to give in, forced to dampen the joy within her. Tomorrow it would be then.
"Nothing, Anakin," she said, waving her hand nonchalantly. She sensed his hesitation in the Force, but could do nothing to resolve it. It faded eventually, leaving her feel guilty. That soon washed away in a tide of love again as it broke over her and Anakin. She relaxed, allowing it to fulfill everything within her. They were bound together, sealed permanently. The ceremony at Naboo had been simple ritual, nothing more. Now, they were truly married in every sense of the word. They had come out through the crucible stronger.
Her hand snaked over and grabbed his where it lay on her shoulder. She brought it up to her cheek, allowing it to lay there in peace.
"You are tired," she finally said. "Sleep."
Anakin nodded, and she once again sensed the profound weariness in him. He was joyous but tired; he had just fought a battle and won.
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He lay in the tube, with wires and needles bristling from all over his body, keeping him alive. The sound of deep, peaceful breaths could be heard. This was the only time he was truly free of the suit. Highly concentrated oxygen was pumped in and out of the box in which he slept. While it allowed him life, if any other human was to breathe it, it would be too intense for their lungs and kill them. One hand was poised over the transparent glass; on the other side slept his wife.
Her long brown hair cascaded, flowing around her shoulders. She perched comfortably on a couch that was laden with soft, silky pillows and blankets, forming a nest for her. Her features were older and hardened, moreso then they had been in her youth, although they were softened with serene calmness. She wore a soft red shimmering gown that cascaded around her, flowing from every curve of her body. One hand, the dressing gown falling from it, had reached out almost unconsciously to the transparent glass that encased her husband.
Their hands spread out, human flesh finger for hard metal artificial finger reaching for each other notwithstanding the impenetrable glass shield. They formed a kind of unity together, binding and holding with a gentle promise. And it was enough.