A/N: Alright! After reading all the replies and getting some plot bunnies, I have decided to make not two but (gasp, shock) three alternate endings. One will be happy, the other one will be either happy or angsty depending on your point of view, and the third will be pure angst. And thanks so much to the people who replied to the last chapter, especially VAParky. Hope you enjoy this one!

Chapter One

Padmé watched as her ship slowly touched down on Mustafar. Red-hot, fiery lava surged and bubbled far beneath her, and it was made clear to her that this place was in constant turmoil; that even during the night in this place there would not be a brief respite from the conditions. She closed her eyes, her sudden weariness having nothing to do with the pregnancy and everything to do with what was about to happen.

Even before the cloaked figure appeared before her, even before she began to get up to run down to meet him, some part of her knew. Some part of her felt that it was too late, that something had happened that she could not mend, something had been done that she could not undo. It was in the way her heart felt suddenly heavy, the lead numbness that had settled at the bottom of her stomach. Her eyes rolled up as she grimaced; only wanting to seek comfort, only wanting to drown herself in their love, to forget, to allow love to blind her…

So it was that she ran into his arms, seeking only the sheer comfort of his warm, sheltering hold, only needing to find words of sweet love on his lips, of gentle honesty in his voice as he spoke. Even as she allowed herself to be held, allowed his name to escape her lips in a gentle cry, she knew.

It was too late.

------

Anakin saw her starship touch down, saw it slowly land on the cracked, weary, dry ground. His first reaction was slight anger that she had come to such a place, that she had dared to disobey him. His second one was of joy that she had come, and knowledge that it was him that she sought, and of hope that she was here.

He embraced her, sliding his arms around her pregnant form, holding her in a way that he knew she needed to be comforted. He had often held her this way, and so his arms settled into a familiar position, his head settling itself into her hair as it had a thousand times before.

When he found his voice, he spoke.

"It's alright, you're safe now." he said softly. Rage rose up in him, almost terrifying in its sudden and abrupt ascent in his emotions. She had nothing to fear from anyone; no one should cause her to tremble as she was, there should never be the need for her to run to him on a mission. "What are you doing out here?" Her eyes fluttered closed as he stroked her hair, closing his eyes.

"I was so worried about you," the words spilled out of her mouth in a desperate rush, "Obi-Wan told me terrible things…"

Anakin's rage flared up again, this time with dark, terrifying intensity. Obi-Wan… and Padmé… the demon of jealousy stirred in him again, and this time he did not try to suppress it. This time he embraced it.

"What things?" He growled at her, not caring how his voice sounded, not caring that his hands had tightened to bruising force on her arms.

She only clung to him.

"He said that you have turned to the dark side…" her voice trailed off, and he could feel the agony in her, the pain of getting ready to speak something unbelievable, something so horrendous it was almost too much to say aloud… "That you killed younglings."

Anakin did not allow himself pause, did not allow his eyes to see the face of the children he had murdered. He did not respond to her, did not offer any kind of reassurance, for there was none to give. He only tightened his grip, not even knowing he was doing so in his anger until she gave a low cry and pulled away.

The tightness in his throat, the defying fury within him, all the anger he was feeling at his sins being brought out in daylight… all those did not lessen with the words he spoke.

"Obi-Wan is trying to turn you against me," he hissed, and his voice had dropped to the point to where it was that of an animal, of a beast not suited for civilization.

------

Padmé stared into his eyes with disbelief, disbelief that grew second by second. This could not be happening; he could not be accepting what she was saying. His eyes could not be the color of flames; he could not have just accused the man who he thought of as a brother of doing this…

The feeling she had since the beginning of her voyage grew, and even as she tried to suppress it, it encompassed her to the point where she wanted to weep, to break down and allow her fists to slam into his chest, to deny what she already knew.

But she had to still try, had to reach him, had to find him, had to save him. For without Anakin… she forced the thought out of her mind desperately. There had to be a way to reach him; there had to.

"He cares about us," she said softly, wanting to turn away from the raw hatred and power she saw in his face, the way he stood.

The look in his eyes only grew, and the sense of inevitability that had been hanging over her since she had come arched in her until it was filling her throat with tears and pain grew in her, pain that overcame her until there was nothing else.

"Us?" He asked, and she could sense that he had already let himself go, that he had let himself be corrupted to the point of destruction. Tears formed in her eyes, flowing down her cheeks in sudden weakness. She could not find her strength, could not draw on the internal power she had that allowed her to cut off everything and forget, forget what was happening around her. This cut too deep, too close to her heart.

"He knows," she pleaded. "He wants to help you." She needed help, needed someone to rescue him, for she did not know if even her love, the love that had overpowered everything… she did not know if even that would be enough.

------

Anakin stood still at her words for a second, absorbing them. Help? he thought, the rage burning inside his heart with more and more intensity. Why would anyone need to help him? The only person who needed help, the only person who needed saving… she was standing right in front of him.

And had he not done it all for her? He asked himself the question as bitter self-righteousness grew within him. Had he not murdered for her, given up everything for her, to save her? A snarl grew on his face. He had done it all for her, ascending to new heights of power, triumphing over weakness, and now she wanted to rip it all away from him. She had even dared to trust Obi-Wan over him, had dared to go to his betrayer instead of coming to him.

But still, even as he watched her, tenderness blossomed in him. Despite the fact that she had run to Obi-Wan, despite everything that had happened, she was still his wife. She was still the one that he treasured above all others, still his very reason for breath, for life itself. And because he loved her, he would be willing to forgive.

"Is Obi-Wan going to protect you?" he asked, coaxing his voice down to a reasonable intensity. "He can't… he's not strong enough." Obi-Wan did not deserve her. He had done nothing to buy her love, had not given all that Anakin had. Anakin had paid the price, had paid it in every child he had slaughtered, every piece of charred flesh that now lay inside the control center… their bodies had bought her life. It was more then fair trade.

Chapter Two

Padmé stood before him, despair coursing through her. It was all she felt, all she tasted, it seemed to her all that there was. It was not a lack of hope; indeed, it only existed because there had been hope. There was only darkness because there had been light, there had been love, there had been a time without despair. She had to get him to see, to come back to her, tolove her as he had before, with no power-lust or anger. Things as they were before…

"Anakin, all I want is your love," she whispered softly. She caught an image in her mind and held it, hoping that he could feel it, see it, live it as she had.

It was bright daylight outside, and everything was lit up in the gentle warm radiance of the Naboo sun. They were together for only a little while, and so had decided to make them most of it, knowing that Anakin could very well be ripped apart from her again. This was but a brief lull, a temporary respite from all the chaos that threatened to engulf them.

Neither was thinking about chaos at the moment, however. Anakin Skywalker lay on the bed, his arms wrapped securely around the form of his wife, holding her securely. She lay awake, not wanting to move and break the moment. She smiled softly as she saw the corners of his lips turn up in a smile. Her smile only grew as she traced the smile with wonder, feeling his lips and cheeks with the tip of her finger, tracing lazy circles around his face.

When he opened his eyes, they were filled with the warmest, deepest content she had ever seen in them. The tender, almost overwhelming expression she saw in them filled her to the depths of her soul, and she basked in the warmth of his gaze, sharing with him the peace of a quiet morning.

"Morning, Love," she whispered softly to him. He grinned and leaned forward to kiss her gently, for all intents and purposes looking like a young mischievous child, not the man he had become. She pressed closer to him, wanting only to feel his lips on hers, drowning out the world as he kissed…

He broke away, his eyes burning with passion. It receded, however, leaving the lust that had formed behind, and leaving only tenderness. It was a moment before either of them spoke, and then:

"What were you doing to my face just now?" The question was asked in a gentle, teasing tone. She smiled demurely, looking away from him, almost embarrassed. But the feel of his hand bringing hers up close enough to touch with his lips was enough for her to forget her shyness.

"I was forming a picture of you with my hands," she said, snuggling closer to him. "That way, whenever you're away, my fingers will remember you." She looked up into his eyes, and found that they gleamed softly.

"Then you will allow me to do the same?" She nodded quietly, and felt his lips kiss her temple. She was about to burst out laughing, but then his mouth moved down to kiss her neck and down to her collarbone, coming up at last to kiss her chastely on the lips. Once she caught her breath, she was able to quirk a quizzical eyebrow.

"I was forming a picture with my lips," he said mildly. She mouthed a soundless 'ah,' and then gasped as his warm mouth caressed her shoulder softly. She could make out him murmuring softly something that sounded like 'I love you,' although she could not be sure. When he met her eyes, he took her hands in his, and she felt utterly safe and content. No one could harm her, ever, not with him holding her.

"This is all I need," he said, and she knew it was true, could tell by the serenity and passion his gaze radiated. "You are all I will ever want," he whispered, and she smiled, saving the moment in her mind, never wanting to loose it.

Padmé forced herself back to the present, with Anakin standing before her, dark rage and anger in his face standing clearly out. The memory of the dream and the sheer bitter sweetness of it all threatened to overwhelm her, but she forced herself to be strong, forced herself to look into his eyes, no matter how much it burned her. He was shielded to her, and she could not feel the warmth of his love anymore; she felt alone and cold and frightened in the dark.

"Love cannot save you, Padmé," he said, and the tears only rolled more freely down her face. "Only my new powers can do that."

Padmé understood then, understood everything in one flash. She understood in that moment how it had happened, how the Hero with No Fear had somehow slaughtered children. It was because of fear, because of fear that had consumed him. She saw how he had started on the path to save her, to save her life. The cruelty, the bitter, darker side of love had taken him and twisted him into something that he was not. In the end, it was not her who needed saving, not her who needed deliverance.

------

Anakin stood before her, seemingly part of the dark flames that spewed magma beneath him. Love, he thought. She wanted love, wanted the love that she had shown him, wanted him to be as he had been. He wondered how she even thought that that was possible, how she even dreamed that he could return to being the pale, empty shell of Anakin Skywalker. He had transcended his former self, had gone beyond what he had been, and now she wanted his love?

A sneer rose up on his face, and the feelings of tenderness he had before were gone, choked out by the hatred within him. Some part of him saw her tears for the man he had been, and some part echoed them with his own. But he would not allow that part to surface, and so he allowed the darkness to cascade over him, completing him, unifying him.

"At what cost?" She asked the question of him, her eyes shining with tears, and again, some part of him could feel her words cutting into him, burning deeply within his heart, and there was an indefinable sense of tragedy he almost allowed himself to feel at her words. He once again buried that part, allowing himself only to see through the eyes of Vader. He was strong, after all; he needed no weakness in him.

He allowed twisted love to wrap itself around him; a rose with thorns that cut deep into him.

"I won't lose you the way I lost my mother," he growled, the fierceness of his possessiveness rising up again. He would never lose her; she was his, forever, she had to be his; there was no life without her. Why couldn't she understand, comprehend that this had all been for her, why couldn't she be grateful?

"I've done it all for you," he hissed, his voice lowering itself. He saw that she was frightened, and although a part of him cried out that she should never have to fear him, that she should only see warm protection in him, the rest of him was enjoying the fear in her eyes, the way her bottom lip trembled and tears filled her eyes. "I've become more powerful then any Jedi has ever dreamed of, and I've done it for you. To protect you."

Rage rose up again in him at her refusal to see things the way he had clearly portrayed them to be, the way he had simply shown her all that there was to see and how she was blindly denying him. His love was no longer beautiful as it had been; it had curled and twisted itself until it was almost nothing like it had been before, almost no trace left of Anakin in him.

But even as he denied it to himself, even as the rage rose up in him, filling the empty void of his soul with such a suddenness it was almost frightening, some part of him still knew. Some part of him still realized that there was hope, that there was love that reached beyond the barriers he had set across his heart. And some part of him knew that even in the darkest night, there was still a flame waiting to be lit.

As Padmé stood before him, countless images of Anakin streamed through her head. Waking up, caressing her face, stroking her cheeks softly as he bent down for a kiss… laughing, saturated with blissful contentment… Love rising softly, love that passed over everything, nothing remaining unchanged, hearts binding themselves together…

And as he now stood before her, she closed her eyes, only wanting to see her husband again, only wanting to see his warm smile, only wanting to feel his fingers, calloused by saber training, glide softly over her skin… But even as she stood there, remembering, she knew with a sudden inevitability that she could not escape any longer, could not avoid.

He was no longer Anakin Skywalker, she thought, and tears coursed even more freely down her face.

He was gone to her; lost.