Padme was still in a state of shock.
It was too much.
As much as she tried to push it away, deny its reality . . . she couldn't quite forget the sound of his voice, raw and vulnerable, whispering her name like she had heard so often in her dreams since she lost him.
It had been too long since she had heard it. She knew it must be a desperate figment of her imagination, a mock replication of her inmost desires and fantasies of the past to drive her further mad with pain and yearning.
So often these past few years had she heard that voice in her head - his voice - speak to her, as he had confessing his love, on Varykino under the sunset, in the quiet of her apartment in their few stolen moments, behind columns in the Senate, before he left for war again . . . the low rumble of his voice, so commanding and authoritative with others yet so gentle with her.
The shivers had run down her spine at the words, the ache in her heart throbbing painfully as she remembered Anakin in that tone.
In that moment, she couldn't think, could only stare at him, her mind flooded but blank, every part of her consumed in an overwhelming cycle of burning and cooling that had her rooted to the spot. She was trembling with emotion forbidden to come to the surface, her insides up in flames so hot she was cold, feeling so much that she felt nothing- just numb, all over.
But Padme had shoved it deeper, deeper, the logic taking charge and forcing the emotions prisoner below.
Anakin was dead, dead, and she'd do better to know that. Only idiots would reveal their greatness vulnerability to the enemy; surely she was not so weak now that she would become one.
She wouldn't believe any of it - thought it all a malicious joke or just cruel torture - until he had asked about the twins.
His question about the children had caught her off guard.
In the familiar rage of his possessiveness he had become so obviously Anakin that she couldn't ignore the truth looming before her.
Anakin had always been possessive of her; in fact, this particular quality of his had been the cause of a number of their fights. She couldn't visit another male senator for business, appear on the Holonet working with one, or even been seen walking with the forbidden kind without Anakin rushing back the first moment he could, bitterly fearful and suspicious. He had never needed to worry, of course - she loved him, only, and he knew that - but that didn't stop him from doing so, fuming about all the other men she could have found in his absence. He had taken an offense even to her close friendship with Bail, although he knew very well that his marriage with Breha was a happy one. Oh, no, his possessive behavior was so terribly familiar that she couldn't ignore it.
Surely Vader couldn't be that good of an actor.
Couldn't have known her husband that well.
Unless they were one and the same . . .
And the horrible cycle began again, this time in her mind.
The truth would harden into place before she smashed it away in her angst, and again she would be left desperately trying to put back together the scattered pieces- until they made sense, but somehow in a different way.
Any other way.
It was only her years as a politician that kept her from running.
Whether at or away from him . . . she didn't know.
She wanted to simultaneously kiss him, slap him, find comfort in him, kill him, hurt him like he had hurt her, bawl in his arms until the pain stopped and the hole he had left in her heart closed.
She didn't know how to feel. The resistance felt safest.
But even so, she couldn't quite make herself stay away from him just yet.
She rose from the bed she had been sitting on, banging loudly on the door he had locked in an effort to keep her resistance from interfering with the - whether he wanted to admit it or not - kidnap.
She gave a hollow laugh. He probably didn't want to have to watch her trying to run away from him, back to Obi-Wan.
A loud click sounded, and she pushed the door open, hearing the voices in the cockpit more clearly now.
"Dada," Leia asked, "why don't we take Bi-Wan a-wong?"
Vader grunted, his jaw locking angrily. "Why would we do that?"
"He's our other Dad," Luke said agreeably, fiddling curiously with every button on the console.
Padme smirked, choosing that moment to walk in with just a little more noise than necessary, her head purposely turned from the dark figure in the pilot's seat in defiance. She flounced down into the passenger's seat, suddenly trying not to let her lips twitch when she noticed their speed.
His driving was as maniacal as ever.
And become ever more suicidal by the second.
"Padme," Vader said darkly with obviously gritted teeth, "what exactly have you been doing with Obi-Wan?"
She pretended not to hear him, crossing her arms and staring with a sour expression out at neighboring planets.
His teeth ground down forcefully. "Let me ask again. What have you been doing with Obi-Wan?"
Padme snickered. "I'm not afraid of you. But, if you really want to know . . . " She shot him a saccharine smile, her voice dripping with false honey. "Nothing."
The fingers of his right hand tightened their grip on the armrest, bending the metal into a misshapen clump. "Do not test me," he growled threateningly, yanking onto the lever for hyperspace excessively hard with his other hand. "Why are you with him? How long have you been with him?"
She raised an eyebrow, looking at the twins.
"All our lives," the girl supplied helpfully, smiling innocently up at Vader. "Since you weren't there, Dada, we 'ad to 'ave another Dada! Don't worry, he was very good- he protected us and helped us lots!"
A piece of metal flew into the room Padme had just left.
"He's even teaching us to be awesome Jedi!" Luke cried happily.
Crack.
The top broke off the lever.
Vader's eyes were fiery now, red and gold glowing furiously. "He's not your other Dad," he hissed at the twins. "He's a traitor, a bad man! Your mother shouldn't have been near him, much less with him in the first place!"
"No, Dada, he's good," Leia said sweetly. "He even helps Mommy feel better when she feels sad!"
Vader whirled to face Padme, trembling in rage. "Did you sleep with him?"
Padme rolled her eyes, staring into his blazing ones defiantly. "So what if I did!" she yelled. "You have no claim to me anymore!"
"How dare you!" he snarled, standing aggressively. The air sizzled with electricity. "You belong to me! I am your husband, and I say you are not allowed to touch any man but-"
"I do not belong to a monster!" she yelled back, standing as well. "And Obi-Wan has been the only other good thing in our lives since the birth of your Empire!"
He was shaking violently now. "You will not speak to me that way!"
"I do not answer to you; you will not tell me what to do!"
The air was knocked out of her breath as she was thrown against the wall. Vader started forward menacingly, his hand raised. "If you do not answer to me as you are supposed to, you will do so by force." He raised her with the Force, yanking her back to him. "Now tell me, did you sleep with Obi-Wan?"
Luke ran to her, tugging at her with eyes wide with sudden fear, while Leia's gaze was on Vader, unblinking in her horror. Padme moaned weakly from the impact on her body. She gripped for something, anything, unable to comprehend what had just happened. So he had changed . . .
Anakin would never hurt her . . .
"N-No." She coughed, staggering as he let her go, her voice betraying both her anger and her fear. "B-But maybe I should have," she whispered, backing away. "Maybe I should have married a good man." She took a deep breath. "I wouldn't let go of Anakin . . . but Anakin Skywalker is gone," she said quietly. "And now I am tied to a monster."
She left for the other room without a glance back.
The air positively hummed with tension.
Vader didn't know how to feel. There was deep, dark fury, then outrage, then hurt so profound he had to work to refrain from grabbing his chest from the pain.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
Her face was supposed to light up in the smile that made her features glow, so radiant and adoring, the one she reserved only for him. She was supposed to run into his arms, so he could hold her tightly and know he would never have to be without her again. She was supposed to soothe him in the comfort he had so missed these past few years.
She was supposed to love him.
Not this loathing and disgust.
He hated it.
Yet he wasn't supposed to.
But he did, of course he did, it was Padme.
The most forbidden of all is compassion.
A lifetime ago he had told Padme that he defined compassion as unconditional love.
Compassion was strictly forbidden for a Sith Lord . . . and now he could see why. It was a horrible weakness, tearing at your insides and putting you in a position of vulnerability where you could so easily be hurt, where you were at the total mercy of the other person. Here he was, stuck wallowing in pain and anguish, while Padme likely wasn't affected at all by the happenings of the past few hours. She probably wasn't even aware of what she was doing to him. In fact, she was undoubtedly in the other room at this very moment daydreaming about Obi-Wan!
Vader gripped the armrests painfully tight, attempting to stop the trembling that had come over his body. He needed to stop this. He was in control, not subject to the mercy of someone else. He was Darth Vader, for Sith's sake! He had wreaked havoc over planets and peoples, was the most feared being in the entire galaxy. Darth Vader did not have silly human desire such as love. No, he did not need even Padme's love. It didn't matter if she loved him; he would have her and she would stay with him whether she liked it or not.
And that was final.
Seeing they had arrived at the location of the Executor, he jerked the ship out of hyperspace and quickly settled into the hanger bay, noting with displeasure that the troops that had come with him to Tatooine were right behind him- without Kenobi. He growled impatiently, stalking over to retrieve the twins from the room he had sent them to so he could meditate. He had hoped that his men would have success in capturing Obi-Wan, but he should have known better. His master - no, his former master, Padme's new lover boy - was unfortunately not a weak force in the slightest.
His brow creased in shock as he saw Rex and Cody playing with the twins, their helmets lying discarded on the floor. Leia squealed happily as she raced after Rex, Luke grabbing at Cody's outstretched arm with blue eyes wide with determination. Vader opened his mouth to speak, but found himself unable to form words. Seeing his looming shadow in the doorway and noting his silence, the two troopers ran over at once, standing quickly at attention. The twins went suddenly still, standing straight and obedient.
"Sorry, sir! It won't happen again!"
"No, no," he said, a little disorientated and strangely uncomfortable. "I- Um- You can continue that later, but we just arrived at the Executor."
If not for the fact that they were stormtroopers, Rex and Cody would have exchanged glances at the Sith's strange behavior; but as it were, they nodded respectfully, heading out to the main part of the ship with the twins trailing dutifully behind them, casting nervous glances back at Vader.
He found he did not like their newfound quietness one bit.
Irritated again, Vader followed, stopping to knock sharply on another door. There was a moment's pause, some shuffling- then the door opened, revealing Padme, her brown eyes faintly red and her face unusually blank.
Hmph. So maybe she hadn't been fantasizing about Obi-Wan.
Or maybe she had been mourning his parting from her.
"It's time to go," he said roughly, his voice coming out harsher than he intended. She flinched at his tone; then her face went blank again, and she robotically pushed past him and into the hallway, heading for the entryway.
Vader shivered slightly at her touch, craving nothing more than the feel of it soft on his skin- but he resisted the hunger, balling his hands underneath his cloak and following her out.
He had waited three years. He could wait a few more hours.
Suddenly he felt uneasy. Padme's face after he had accidentally thrown her flashed into his mind, of pure horror and disbelief. She would surely not accept him in the least after such an episode.
Why hadn't he controlled himself?
For the first time in three years of torturing and destroying and delighting in pain . . . he felt an inkling of regret.
But he shouldn't feel regret for it. He didn't need to . . .
Couldn't he entirely control the situation - make her stay with him, accept him - through force?
Padme gripped Luke and Leia's hands tightly in hers, shivering as the passed row upon row of stormtroopers in the hanger bay, lined up to await the return of their commander. Ever since Vader had hurt her, the twins had become suddenly wary and ceased their paying of special attention to him - as if they knew exactly who he was now and what had happened - opting to stick close to her when they could and keep their distance from him. She greatly appreciated their comfort and closeness; Vader, on the other hand, was obviously sour at their now detached behavior, making his troopers hustle the little group so that they were not trailing too far behind him.
Padme tried to keep track of the way they were going, in case escape would someday be possible, but soon found that the number of twists and turns they made - combined with the uniformity of the plain white or black hallways lined with doors - made it impossible to even attempt. Greatly discouraged, she trudged after Vader, only speeding up when he shot back a glare or was prodded in the back by a stormtrooper.
Finally, they arrived at the end of a hall, marked by a single, large black door. Vader turned, addressing the man behind her. "Get the senator and the children situated in my chambers." His hooded head turned just the tiniest bit in her direction. "I have work to do; I will join them in a few hours. Be sure that they have everything they need until then." Without a pause or look back, he was striding off, his cloak billowing behind him.
Padme's alarm spiked as her mind finally registered his words. Well, of course she was to be put in his chambers . . . what else did she think was going to happen? That he would lock her away and never touch her again?
The thought wouldn't have made her afraid in the least if it was Anakin - in fact, she likely would have felt exactly the opposite - but it was Vader she was dealing with.
And whatever she knew about him and his intentions with her, one thing was clear.
Vader would not take lightly to rejection.
She couldn't wait until tonight.
She had to escape.
Again, reviews, please, so I know there's at least some people out there that are interested in updates? You have no idea how disheartening it is to spend a lot of time writing in the late hours after work only to find there's only like one person who seems to be reading :(
