Chapter Twenty-Seven

Anakin sat, shocked beyond belief for a second, even to the point of forgetting what was happening. He had seen Qui-Gon's funeral, had seen the flames lick the Jedi Master's robe until his body was ablaze. And now, the same man stood before him, not in the flesh, but… different. He wanted to collapse into weeping laughter. He had finally gone insane, her death pushing him over the edge.

He looked back to his wife, seeing life ebb from her, knowing there was nothing he could do. The promise he made to his mother's grave years ago floated up in his memory, taunting him. He was letting her die, just as she had before, only this time they had found each other, this time he had overcome his demons, had triumphed. She couldn't die. An overpowering, pressing need fell into him. He would stop it; he had to. She was the only thing left preventing his fall into darkness, the only light in a world which seemed to blacken before his eyes. Without her, there was nothing.

The form of Qui-Gon knelt beside Anakin, looking just like he had twenty years ago. Tears ran freely down Anakin's cheeks; tears of pure grief. There was no anger or hatred; those would come later .There was only pain and despair now.

Anakin felt the Force moving around him once again; shifting. He turned, surprised, to stare out at the Jedi Master, who was gazing at Padmé, his eyes unwavering from her still form. He sighed and turned to Anakin, the first time he had spoke.

"She is alive."

Anakin clenched his teeth behind the mask, but said nothing. There was nothing he could say, not to an apparition, not while his wife was dying.

"There is still a way to save her," Qui-Gon continued.

Pain ripped across still-raw nerves, parts of Anakin he knew would never be healed. He turned to Qui-Gon, keeping his hold and his focus on the fading presence of Padmé.

"How?" his voice rasped out of the mask, made weak by grief. He refused to let the fires of hope brighten him.

Qui-Gon stood, and suddenly Anakin felt another presence in his mind, not invading him, but simply there. It was gentle, calming and strong, like the slow lap of waves against shore. It beckoned to him, calling him to go. And so he went, following the presence out of his own mind, traveling far away along to another place, somewhere that seemed infinitely familiar…

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Padmé was immersed in darkness. It felt suffocating, like she could not breathe. She was detached from all senses; blind, deaf and numb in the dark. There was simply her, nothing else, not even the presence that had been with her before, helping her. She was alone, and in her loneliness, thoughts ran quickly through her mind, a constant stream.

The wound had been mortal. There was no doubt of that, and thus the numbness. Anakin, she thought with a degree of sadness. How would he possibly survive? How could he go on, after her death? A resolution developed in her heart. He must survive, must find a way to go on and find Luke and Leia, before the Emperor got to them.

Suddenly, there was an opening in the darkness. It was not a physical thing that she could see and reach out to with senses that she no longer possessed; it was more like something she felt, like the darkness removing itself, the pressure easing softly.

She saw in a haze her childhood home, where she had lived with her father and mother contently before even thinking of politics. It was astonishingly clear in her mind, and she began to regain her senses, smelling the sweetness of ripe fruit in the orchard behind her house. All thoughts of Anakin and her children were swept away as a new peace filled her heart, and she raised her head, noticing that only now did she have a head to raise.

The door to the small cottage opened, and she looked back with her inner-eye to see the darkness, and to know that it was time to leave it behind. With new-found serenity, she turned back to the home, noticing that there was a freshly-picked basket of flowers sitting on the table. Sunlight streamed in through the circular windows, and the soft chirpings of birds filled the air.

This would have been the perfect place for us to raise a family, she thought dazedly. There was no regret in her mind, only a fresh sense that the world was new, that she was stepping into a place of surprises, that it was time to leave everything else behind, that it was the past, and she began to forget…

Something called out to her, like a voice that was weakened through speaking through a window. It was almost an irritation to Padmé's hazy mind, like a gnat buzzing around her head. She ignored it and extended one leg to prepare to enter the field that was full of soft green grass that blew in the wind…

The voice, however, refused to stop calling, and she finally turned back to it, looking across the darkness. There was something there that had not been there before, a presence that she recognized as one she had known in another life…

She turned away from it with a frown, not knowing its name and not caring. She was about to go into the other world when she saw something blocking her path, a man with a wise, compassionate yet stern face, who gazed at her, arms crossed over his tan-robed chest.

She tilted her head up to meet his gaze squarely; drawing on strength she had accumulated in her other life, although she did not remember why.

"You must let me pass," she said mildly to the man, who raised an eyebrow. She felt almost as if she could pierce the fog in her mind to realize who he was, that she had known him before. "I must leave, and you are in my way, sir."

"Padmé," he said softly to her, and a whirl of emotions and thoughts rose at him saying the name. It possessed some strange relevance, as if it was the name of someone that she had known…

"Let me pass!" She shrieked at him, her voice made shrill by fear. He blocked her easily, grabbing securely onto her arms. When she realized that he would not let go, she stopped squirming in his grip and glared at him with growing anger.

"He needs you, Padmé." She frowned, wanting to fight against the words, recognizing them as strange and dangerous. But he commanded her gaze, forcing her to accept and think about what he had said.

Who needs me? She wondered dazedly. What does he need me for? A slight glimmer of a memory, a twinkling of a thought rose before her eyes, and even as she wanted to fight it, to go against this thing that threatened to tear her from paradise, she found herself accepting it.

And then the glass was shattered. Her presence merged with that of the voice that she had felt, and in the stream of thoughts, she remembered herself, remembered what had happened. Above all, a sense of love rose up in her until she was weeping with it, weeping for the intense sense of desolation that had accompanied the love.

Qui-Gon had let her go sometime in the frenzy of thoughts and emotions she had exchanged. She bent over, unable to contain her tears. She could not leave him, not like this!

Qui-Gon knelt down to her level, raising her chin and staring into her eyes, wiping away her tears with one finger.

"It doesn't have to be this way," he said quietly. "You can leave this behind, and choose him."

She looked back to the field and orchard, the small cottage in which she should have raised her children. It was tempting for a moment, a paradise in which she could lose herself. But then she looked back to him, the one whom she called love, the one who she treasured above all others. And her choice was made.

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Anakin had felt her pull away from him, and had reached out to her with a sense of panic which was more then before, so much that his very soul cried with it, reaching out to her even through death. And then he had felt her come back to him, finally realizing who she was, and he had held his breath, not daring to hope.

The presence of Qui-Gon brought him out of the darkness and into a place where there was only light, wrapping around him and uplifting him. He felt Qui-Gon guiding the light through him, and there was a sense of great power that passed.

He did not know how long he was in the light, how long he was enveloped in its embrace. It felt like an eternity and yet only the span of two seconds. All he knew was when he slipped from it, coming gently sliding into awareness.

The first thing he felt upon awakening was a slight pressure on his hand, given by another. He opened his eyes to see the most beautiful thing he had ever known.

She lived. The word tasted odd on his tongue as he mouthed it to himself; life. They had somehow overcome even death, together. He looked down upon her sleeping form to see that the bloody hole in her chest had healed, that she was safe, that she was alive. Shock overwhelmed him, and this time, it was like wakening to a new sunrise on Naboo, colors of vivid garnet red and honeyed gold painted across the landscape of tall, silent emerald trees. Hope blossomed in him until he felt joy again, filling his heart completely until at last he was complete.

She stirred and then woke, her eyes slowly flickering to his. A small smile lit her face, a grin of triumph and awakening. There were no words needed between them; there never had been. She unified with him, caressing him slowly, comforting him, letting her know that she had felt his pain and fear and understood them, and that she would always be there. Even in death.

You are mine, Anakin Skywalker, she breathed. And he knew that she was his, that they belonged to each other, that their bond went further, deeper, that nothing could ever part them. Even through the darkness, even in the deepest throes of Vader, there had always been her light, shining through.

Padmé, he whispered, forgive me. She embraced him physically then, her arms coming to encircle his body clad in the black cape. He wept, and she made soothing noises to him, rocking him as if he was a child, comforting him. He pulled her into his arms until they were both standing together in the middle of a ship in deep space, rocking together.

They had overcome it, together. There was nothing that would ever pull them apart again.