Title: Falling From The Light
Main Characters: Anakin/Padmé/Obi-Wan/Bant/Luke/Leia/Han/OC
Secondary Characters: OCs/Qui-Gon
Summary: The sequel to "Slipping Into Darkness." Palpatine knew that Anakin might defeat him, so he left something behind which may not only destroy the Chosen One, but his family as well.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of Star Wars, as cool as it would be if I did. Everything belongs to the Flannelled One. I do, however, own the OCs. They are mine, mine, all mine! (notices the strange looks she is receiving) I mean, (clears throat) They belong to me. (blush)
A/N: Originally, I wasn't going to write a continuation to "Slipping," but my wonderful readers on TFN convinced me to. The Lord blessed me with an idea, and "Falling" came about. This story takes some very interesting turns, and I hope that it will surprise you. :) This first chapter begins as a flashback during "Slipping." The next post will take place around the time ANH would have occurred.
A/N2: As always, this story would never be what it is now without my wonderful beta's (Darth Mom's) help. "Slipping," began with an idea she had, and she was kind enough to let me borrow and expand on it, and she is always patient enough to listen to me talk about the sequel. :)
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Falling From The Light
18 years later, the present…
Padmé Amidala Skywalker gazed out at the Coruscant skyline. Night had long since blanketed the city, but as was always the case on the galactic capitol, the blackness was disrupted by never ending streams of traffic and the glow of neon lights. Still, Padmé was content to stand and watch the scene before her, wondering at the passengers and destinations of the various ships and transports. Though, if she were truly honest with herself, she would admit that she was watching for one ship in particular: Anakin's starfighter.
He had been sent to the Outer Rim, and the mission had taken far longer than expected. Altogether, he had been gone for nearly a month. Certainly, Padmé had grown used to being apart from him for periods of time, and she understood why it was necessary. His duties a Jedi couldn't be changed, and she did not wish them to. She was proud of her husband, and her children as well, for their service as Jedi. But that didn't make her miss them any less when they were away, nor did it stop her from worrying.
She wondered what she was going to do when Luke and Leia were knighted. It was bad enough now when they left with their Masters on assignment, but at least Padmé knew that Obi-Wan and Bant were there to keep them safe. However, as both were about to turn eighteen, they were not far from knighthood themselves, and that meant solo missions. And, if they were anything like their father, which Padmé knew they were, they would have a penchant for getting into trouble. But then again, Padmé thought with a rueful smile, their mother didn't exactly have the best record for avoiding danger either.
In an instant, Padmé's amusement faded as a cold breeze swept over the balcony, reminiscent of a foreboding chill. She tightened her robe around herself in an attempt to ward off the wind's effects, and contemplated going back inside. She knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep, but at the very least she could finish some work.
A ghost of a smile played upon her lips once more as she considered the large stack of data pads on her desk. It was ironic that she had always thought she would retire from public service when she had a family, but now that the children were older, her work load had only increased. She supposed though, that she should have expected being so busy when she had been appointed Head of Diplomatic Relations for the Republic.
She loved her job, as it gave her the chance to strengthen the ties between the many worlds of the Republic, and to hopefully prevent the kind of problems which had led to the Clone Wars. But, she had certainly seen enough paperwork to last a lifetime, and it meant she had to travel often, sometimes leaving her unable to be home when Anakin returned from a mission. She hoped that wouldn't be the case this time, since she was scheduled to go to Corellia in two days.
With this in mind, she decided to remain on the balcony, watching for Anakin's ship. As another breeze caught her robe, she called to Threepio, asking him to bring her cloak.
A few minutes later, Padmé was still gazing at the night sky when she was surprised to feel a pair of powerful arms gently wrap a cloak around her, then move down around her waist to pull her closer. Joyfully realizing who it was, she closed her eyes and smiled, relaxing into the embrace, then turned to look up at her husband.
Anakin smiled back, then bent down to whisper, "Are you an angel?"
Padmé's smile broadened at his words, and a mischievous spark lit her eyes.
"I don't know," she answered, "Are we angels allowed to grace mere mortals with our presence?"
"That depends."
"Depends on what?"
"On how beautiful the angel is." Anakin moved to kiss her, and Padmé quickly drew her arms up around his neck, reveling in the fact that he was finally home with her once more. As Anakin stepped back, he brushed his hand down her cheek, and added, "I happened to have found the most beautiful angel of all."
Padmé smiled once more, and they kissed again, the world seeming to fade away. Finally Padmé drew back, and for a moment simply looked up at her husband.
Though older, Anakin still looked much like he had during the war. His dark blond hair still fell close to his shoulders in typical Jedi style, and he had never grown a beard. He still wore a black glove over his mechanical hand, despite the fact that a few years earlier, when the technology had advanced, he'd had the metallic hand replaced with a much more realistic looking one. When she had asked him why he still wore the glove, he had answered that it served as a reminder of the price of the Dark Side. His dark blue eyes still shown with the same intensity she remembered, but at the same time, she could see wisdom in them as well.
Padmé smiled again. "Welcome home," she said softly.
"Thank you," he answered in the same hushed tone. "I missed you."
"I missed you, too." Padmé looked at him for a moment longer, then feeling a sudden glimmer of mischief return, she added, "You don't look a bit like Threepio, though."
Anakin laughed. "No, I suppose I don't. I caught him just before he stepped out here, and I couldn't resist the chance to surprise you."
"When did you get back?"
"About an hour ago. I had to give my report to the Council immediately. I would have been here sooner, but I was given a message that Bail Organa wishes to meet with me in the morning."
Padmé nodded in understanding about the delay then looked up once more.
"Do you know what Bail wants to speak with you about?"
"I am not sure, but I was told it could be very important."
Padmé's brow furrowed momentarily, but the expression quickly faded as she snuggled closer to her husband and smiled
"I am just glad you're here."
Anakin pulled her closer once again and said seriously, "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."
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Anakin awoke to see light streaming through the windows of the apartment, the rays causing golden highlights to appear in Padmé's normally dark curls. For a time, he simply lay next to his wife, reveling in the peace he felt, a sense of completeness that he only found at her side. She was, as always, his angel, the one who made him whole, and he had missed her greatly for the month he had been away. He turned for a moment to simply watch Padmé as she slept, burning the image of her beauty into his mind once again, as he had done countless times before.
She was incredible as she always had been, her long chocolate locks tumbling loosely around her face, a few strands resting lightly on her neck. Her eyes were closed, and her long lashes seemed to cast small shadows on her cheeks in the light of the room. To Anakin's eyes, the years seemed to have barely touched her.
Smiling once more at his sleeping wife, Anakin bent down to kiss her cheek gently. Then, not wishing to disturb her, he quietly slipped from the bed. He walked to the closet to gather his tunic and robes, then moved silently towards the fresher. He paused briefly as he passed the mirror, looking once again at the scar that ran the length of his side; the ever present testament of his battle with Sidious.
Though he tried not to dwell on the past, he often found himself thinking of the events that had nearly cost him everything. The realization of what he had almost become was still a painful one, though over the years it had become a dull ache within his heart, rather than a sharp, stabbing torment. But in a way, he was grateful for the scars he carried, both physically and mentally. They were a reminder of what the Dark Side had almost taken from him, a reminder to be grateful for every moment of joy, and every blessing in his life.
Turning back to look at his sleeping angel once again, and smiling at her beauty, Anakin continued to get ready for his day. He showered quickly, dressed, and ate a smallbreakfast. Then, still being careful not to wake Padmé, he left the apartment.
Though it was early, the streets of Coruscant were already busy, and beings from every corner of the galaxy filled the walk ways. Anakin would have rather taken a speeder to his meeting with Bail Organa, but the former Chancellor's office wasn't far from the apartment he and Padmé shared. This made walking seem more practical… if not more preferable. But, moving quickly through the crowd and using the Force to find the open spaces in the throng of beings, Anakin at least made good time.
He walked through the door of Bail's office, taking a moment to gaze at his surroundings. The décor perfectly reflected the personality of the man within, and much of the furniture was adorned by Alderaanian designs, yet simple in style. Anakin noted that Bail's secretary had yet to arrive, however he knew that the politician had most likely been there for some time.
Once Bail Organa had served the maximum number of terms as Chancellor, the senate had unanimously elected him Chief of Security for the Republic. His experience during the war, and his proven leadership ability, made him the perfect choice, and Anakin suspected that his swift appointment was a new record for the often slow moving body of the senate. Bail took his job very seriously, and worked hard to manage the decommissioned clone army, the security forces of various worlds, and the now ever-growing Republic Academy.
Anakin's suspicions of the former Chancellor's whereabouts were confirmed when he hear the familiar rustle of data sheets. He moved further into the space to stand in the doorway of Bail's private office, but the older man was so absorbed in his work that he didn't even notice the Jedi's arrival.
Anakin cleared his throat. Bail looked up, revealing features that still spoke of nobility. His hair, once dark black, was now mostly gray, and the lines around his eyes seemed a testament to the weight of his responsibility. But when he looked up and smiled, years seemed to lift from his visage.
"Anakin," he said still smiling, "I wasn't expecting you this early."
"Yes, I know. But I was hoping you wouldn't mind seeing me now."
"Certainly not," Bail assured, motioning to the seat across from him. "Please, sit down."
Bowing his thanks, Anakin walked into the small office.
"How is Padmé?" the former senator asked. "I am afraid I have had little free time to pay her a visit."
Anakin grinned. "Just as busy as you are."
Bail laughed. "I imagine so. Though my dear wife insists that if it is possible to work one's self to death, I will be the first to find out."
His smile faded as he grew more serious. "But, speaking of work…" He bent down to pull a large file from his desk. "This was brought to my attention a couple weeks ago, by the Corellian Security Director."
The name of the core world sparked Anakin's interest further, knowing that Padmé was to travel there tomorrow for a meeting with the Corellian senator. He listened intently as Bail continued.
"For the past few weeks, there has been a string of murders in the capitol city of Coronet. Normally, a case such as this would be handled by Corellian officials, but they have found something very strange in the course of their investigation."
Anakin felt a cold sensation sweep through him at the former Chancellor's words, but the feeling left as quickly as it had come, and the Jedi Master's attention was drawn back to the conversation as Bail handed him the file.
"Each of the victims appears to have been killed by some sort of energy weapon, as their wounds seemed to have been cauterized almost instantly."
Anakin looked up, startled. "You think the weapon might be a lightsaber?"
"Yes, or something similar. But that isn't what I was referring to. At each crime scene, they have found a hand print in blood. Since the victims wounds are cauterized, they believe the blood to belong the killer. They took a sample from each site, and ran it through the Republic database, searching for a match."
"And did they find anything?"
"They found a partial match, yes." Bail hesitated, as though he were reluctant to continue. "However, the results were very odd. The DNA appears to have been altered in some way, which is strange enough considering that the Republic strictly controls any and all genetic manipulation. But what is even more puzzling, is the partial match contained within the DNA itself."
"Why do you say that?" Anakin asked, feeling a frigid sensation sweep through him once again.
"Because, Anakin, the DNA matches yours."
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It was dark in the alleyway, the light of Corellia's capitol seemingly unable to penetrate the corridor. But the darkness didn't effect the being who stood alone in the passage; rather she seemed to belong there, appearing as a mere extension of the shadows. She was beautiful, her pale skin almost ghostly in quality, her features still as carved ivory. Straight, raven hair fell to her waist, blending seamlessly with the black robes she wore.
She turned to walk back down the alley, moving with an ease that suggested strength beyond that of a normal human, her footfalls utterly silent. Finally, she stopped, bending down to peer at the object of her curiosity.
He was, or rather had been, a man she had seen walking in the darkened streets earlier that night. Seeing he was alone, and that no one was near enough to him should he cry out, she had struck. As with all the of others, he hadn't been able to fight back, his fate set the moment she had laid eyes on him.
The young woman looked down at his unmoving form, her posture suggesting puzzlement, yet her eyes remaining utterly devoid of emotion, rivaling the coldness of space itself. Once her curiosity had been satisfied, she straightened, and withdrew something from the folds of her robe: an ancient, wickedly curved knife, with an intricate design adorning the handle. It was a dead blade, using no energy when it cut as a vibroshiv would have, but that was what she needed to accomplish her task.
Raising one hand, she quickly brought the knife across her palm. Though the cut was rather deep, her expression showed no pain. Quickly, she walked to the wall behind the fallen man and pressed her hand against it. After a few seconds, she withdrew her hand, taking another moment to observe the print left behind.
Then she moved her gaze back towards her now-injured palm, watching without emotion as the already healing wound finished closing. Finally, the injury vanished completely, as though it had never been.
Glancing once more at the scene before her, assuring herself that her Master would be pleased, the young woman slipped the blade back into her robe, and faded silently once again into the night.
TBC
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