In the next instant, I find myself on a cold metal stretcher. Various droids hover around the quickly moving bed, as Obi-wan and Padme jog beside it to keep up. As Obi-wan hangs back to explain my injuries to a small astrodroid, Padme comes even with the stretcher. "Padme," I say, cringing painfully—the anesthetic is starting to wear off—"Please, don't let them—don't….make sure when I come out of here, I'm still human."

She touches her hand to her chin, looking confused, even frightened.

"Promise me, Padme."

She shakes her head. "I can't." The voice is little more than a gasp, stricken weak by all the things I've put her through. "I…I don't want to make promises anymore. Please don't make me."

She doesn't understand! This isn't an impossible promise—this is something she must say—can't she understand? How can she let me become a slave like Sidious wanted? Does she want that for me?

"Padme, please—" And then in a horrible wave of fire and acid the medicine is gone and I am gone.

I can't remember who I am or where or why. All I know is the unbearable fire that is crawling over my body and eating me. I feel a detached interest in the howls and shrieks coming from my body. I can see, as though I am not contained within myself, a writhing form on the stretcher. It's disfigured and disgusting, a slimy, red, wormlike creature. Whether from the pain or horror at the figure, I feel heat rising in my throat and I am retching and a second later choking on the vomit as I struggle to breathe and scream to blot out the pain. This is it. And Padme's frantic face swirls before my eyes and Obi-wan's yell is muted and the world is black and soft and peaceful….

Then the black changes to darkness, a dark that threatens and tries to destroy me. All over, just the dark. It roars and tries to move into me, at the same time beckoning me to let it.

Then there is a light, a beautiful light. It's so soft. It's quiet here. There is nothing. I can't feel anything. All I can see is that beautiful, dancing glow that surrounds everything.

Where am I?

You are with me, child.

Who are you?

You know me.

I do?

Yes. Who am I, child?

I don't know! Tell me, please!

I cannot change to suit your means and mood. You must find yourself in me.

I can't! Who are you?

If you do not know, then you are already lost.

Then the horrible, consuming darkness is back. It burns me worse than I was ever burned by Obi-wan or the fire on Mustafar. How can it burn me? I wonder absently. I don't seem to be in my body. It tries to snake inside me. I fight it, but the more that enters me the harder it becomes…

I'm pinned down to a smooth glass table hovering in the middle of a room. The first thing I see as I gingerly open my eyes is Padme. Behind her is Obi-wan.

"Anakin, can you hear me?" Obi-wan's voice is filled with fear and barely disguised panic. His face is red and his hair disheveled.

"Of course I can hear you. Why wouldn't I?" What happened? I struggle to move and sit up before I remember. I turn my head, cringing as I hear, rather than feel, my skin tear. As soon as I see the charred remains of my arms, I shut my eyes tightly. I don't ever want to see that again.

That might prove difficult.

"Anakin—are you sure you're alright?" Padme is trying to look at me, biting her lower lip. I'm sorry I have to be like this, Padme. But it's all for you.

"Do I look as though I'm 'alright?'" I ask, my voice bitter and hardened. "For that matter, do I look as though I'll ever be alright again?"

"Anakin, I'm just worried about you! Haven't you ever been afraid for someone?"

Yes. But you, afraid? You're never worried. Or has that all been some kind of trick, like everything else I ever believed?

"Why were you worried? What happened?"

"Anakin, you died."

It takes a minute for those words to sink in. I'm dead? How can I be dead? I thought I was supposed to become one with the Force when I died. All Jedi are supposed to! How come I didn't? I went back to the Light Side before I died! Or did I? I was so sure I did…

"Obi-wan—" I ask my newly (re)adopted master hesitantly—"How come I'm like this? How come I'm not one with the Force? Or…are you both dead too?"

"Of course we're not dead. Neither are you, for that matter."

"But you said…"

"Your heart and respiratory system stopped functioning. But the droids brought you back—I'm sure you can thank them later. They've been keeping you under anesthesia for several hours while they examined the senator."

"But why didn't you have them wake me up?" Were you afraid of me Obi-wan? Did you think I would come back only to hurt Padme, or you? I can't stop suspicion and doubt from creeping into my mind.

Anakin, he thinks, softly—why use the Force, though?—I thought, that, considering what you told me about your visions of Padme's death, it would be…for the best if you weren't awake in the event they did find anything that could prove fatal in childbirth.

And…did they?

Nothing major. Nothing that should lead to her death.

I moan out loud. So. All Sidious ever told me was a lie. But the visions! They were just like the ones when my mother died. What if they are right after all?

But how can they be? There's nothing wrong with her.

How do I know he's not lying? Demands the small, hating part of my mind, he's lied before.

Yeah, says the other part of me, then tell me, when has he ever lied to you?

And the doubtful voice is silent.

But not gone.

"Senator Amidala," says a tall, silvery droid in a stiff, mechanical voice, as it grabs Padme's elbow "You must rest. You're very weak. You must rest."

"No—I don't need, to, really. Thank you for all you've done for me, but I'm much better."

"Senator, you must come with me—"

"No, I need to talk to my husband."

"He will be beginning treatment in under an hour. He must rest, too."

She bites her lip and shakes her head in frustration. "Thank you for being so good to us, Master Obi-wan…Anakin—I guess I have to go now. I'll try and get back soon. And we can talk a little. I love you, okay?"

"I love you, too, Padme.

Though she tries to sound hard and unbending, I hear her voice breaking when she speaks to me. And when she walks away, her head is hanging low on her chest and she is wringing her hands as if she can't think what to do. I'm sorry I've hurt you, Padme. (Maybe I should try slaying that out loud.) But I would do absolutely anything to make the last few weeks disappear.

That's definitely an understatement.

But I don't want to talk to Padme. I don't want to hear what she thinks of me after all the things I've done. I'm afraid of what she'll say.

But it's better than being alone. Where I'll have to hear what I think of me.

And that will be worse.

"Anakin—" says Obi-wan in a low voice as soon as the harsh steel doors swing shut behind her retreating back, "Did you see anything after you died?"

I can vaguely recall a beautiful light. I remember talking to it, but I don't remember what it said. And I remember the serpent of darkness that snaked around me and within.

When I tell this to Obi-wan, he looks frightened for a minute, then resumes his calm demeanor.

"That was the Force. The fact that you saw both sides means you haven't made up your mind yet. What is it that Palpatine has to offer you that the Jedi don't? Please tell me, Anakin!"

I shake my head desperately. I don't know. I thought I'd made my choice. I thought I'd cast out the darkness.

"How can we ever trust you if you're like this, Anakin?"

"I don't know, Master." I mutter, casting my eyes down miserably.

Obi-wan opens his mouth to speak, but before he does, the doors to the room we're in slide open and the same droid who escorted Padme away from me is back.

"Masters, the Senator's water broke."

Oh, Force.

Thanks everybody so much for all the awesome reviews you've been giving me. It's really nice to know people are reading this. You guys are absolutely incredible, your reviews really keep me going. The support I've received for this is phenomenal.

Obviously, I redid this chapter. I just really didn't like the old version. I do like this better, but if anybody really really wants the old one back I might consider it.