Hello, just a note to some of the reviewers :)
Firstly, on the twins: I totally agree with you guys, they should not be accepting of Vader after what they saw him do to their mother. However, I do feel that small children are generally very accepting of people unless proven otherwise- so I do believe that when first meeting their father, their curiosity of a dad they have never known combined with that (usually known as) childish acceptance would cause them to initially come with and accept him. After seeing him hurt Padme, you are right, they would most definitely side with and defend their mother, rejecting Vader. I did hope to convey their disacceptance by their behavior in staying close to Padme and refusing to talk/interact with him any longer, but do tell me if that wasn't clear enough and I will try to make some changes. This chapter should help in clearing it up.
Secondly, on Vader and his "surprisingly good parenting: I'm sorry that you don't like it, but I'm in the process of trying to convey how "Vader" he still is, but also show the confusion Padme and the twins have instilled in him. I wanted to show the back and forth going on his mind, the turmoil of emotions. I do believe that although he is still fully Vader, he has a longing for acceptance, that he always had as Anakin, and will still have as Vader, although he doesn't admit it. He doesn't in the least get it from Padme, but initially he does from the twins- which at least partially explains the "non-Vader" way he treats them. He wants the security, love, and acceptance of a family, and doesn't get it from Padme, so he grasps for it in the twins. I do also feel that - in addition to the fact that they have not resisted yet - underneath it all, the care he still has for Padme transfers over to Luke and Leia, as well as the fact that they are the children he mourned for, assuming dead. This explains why he hasn't killed either of them or their mother yet, as he is prone to with others. I apologize if my train of thought is different from that of others.
Clarification for one other thing: in Playing With Fire, Anakin merely sustained a slash to the chest, a broken arm, and a head wound. He is not burned or limbness, and is described - in case people didn't catch this - as hooded, and therefore not in the suit.
One other thing: if you don't like the back and forth in both Vader and Padme, I'm sorry, but I have experienced that most people in their situation, faced with mental trauma/confusion, are that way, not just a clear cut bad to good.
Vader stormed out of the room, fuming.
Who was this Padme, that despised him so fiercely?
It had taken everything in him to resist smashing something - anything - after the way she had spoken to him. He didn't know how he had controlled himself . . . or to be honest, even why he had done so. The Dark Side of the Force was all-mighty, all-consuming, controlling you from the soul out- until you were unable to think of anything but the anger and hate swirling in every recess of your mind, and you had not even the will to resist its power.
Yet he had. The Dark Side was not to be controlled, not to be reigned in less its power be diminished- yet somehow he had, doing what he had never - not even on Mustafar - had the will or ability to do. At that moment he didn't care that the man inside was pushing back. All he'd known was something deep inside him hated the fear in her eyes when she looked at him. He hadn't meant to hurt her back on the ship; he had just gotten so furious- and by the time he was back in control she was on the floor, with the terror and hate written in every feature of her beautiful face.
He had wanted to make it better . . .
Vader gripped the desk, his mechanical hand crushing the metal in vehemence. This was ridiculous. He'd been trained to induce that very emotion, delight in that very look. It was the way of the Sith, and the only way to control an Empire. This guilt and regret would not do. No, he had tried to fix the problem, and she was the one who rejected it, continued to reject him! To think, he had actually felt a vague remorse for what he'd done and shown her grace, even brought a peace offering- yet she had refused it, mocking him in the process?
It was unacceptable!
He threw the datapad onto the desk in disgust. No work was going to be done at this rate. He glanced at the chrono, wondering how much time he'd wasted twisting himself into knots over Padme.
Kriff. Two past midnight. Weren't children supposed to be in bed by then?
How many hours had he already spent in his life wasting away over Padme Amidala?
Padme's mind was reeling.
She couldn't think through the confusion. First he was a monster, obviously unconcerned about her well-being from the way he threw her in his rage; then he was acting like he cared by bringing her food? The whole day he had reeked of arrogance and hate; but suddenly he was fumbling around and unsure?
It didn't make any sense. He didn't make any sense.
And now her fundamental conviction - that he was evil and horrible and changed - had been shaken, toppled by this half Vader, half Anakin.
Padme curled up into herself, fingers gripping tightly at her chest, the pain twisting her insides.
No. This was not Anakin.
She remembered Anakin Skywalker. She remembered him as clearly as she could feel her own face and the stinging in her eyes.
The memories came surging back to her, stinging her mercilessly . . . yet this time the weakness in her took over and she could only halfheartedly push them away, unable to find it in herself to send Ani away, willing to face to pain if only his presence would be the strength and comfort she needed against the demon that was Vader . . .
For the monster and the man were not one and the same, surely . . .
She couldn't handle it. No, it was much easier to isolate one from the other- Anakin the light, that brought comfort and love, and Vader the darkness, that slaughtered and destroyed and did not love.
She had to stop this weakness. She had to stop thinking of Vader as part Anakin, inventing desperate ideas of his humanity.
It didn't matter how much his voice had affected her, how much he was like Anakin. She knew the truth of who he was now, but what was clear was that although he had been, he wasn't Anakin.
He was Vader.
The Anakin she knew was dead. She couldn't let that foolish longing inside of her for her husband blind her to reality. Her children had endured enough suffering, paid enough for the unhealthy hold he had on her. Too many nights of too many years had held her prisoner to the agony that was associated with Anakin. She needed to get past him, let him go, and do what was right for the twins.
She needed to keep Luke and Leia safe at all costs.
So Padme closed her heart up, determined that her weakness would never surface again to threaten the safety of her children. It didn't matter how much she still yearned for him; he was gone, and she needed to accept that.
Wearily, she pulled herself up and felt around the room, her hands scraping hard wood until she found something soft. Finally.
Her body aching from the strain of the day and the roughness of the floor, she hauled herself up into the softness, sighing in relief. Her mind was unwinding rapidly, the exhaustion seeping through every corner of her body until she had to work to think. Maybe it would be all right to let down her guard for a short time, to get a little sleep.
She would need some rest if she were to face the next day and the monster that came with it . . . after all, it would not do to have a weak mind and will in these circumstances . . . just a little . . . and then maybe she could think of something . . . escape . . .
Strangely, the last thought that passed before her consciousness gave way was how cold and empty the space was beside her.
Vader grumbled in irritation, pulling his fingers through his locks and standing. A Sith Lord was not made for tasks such as putting children to bed. Stalking to the door, he wrenched it open, sending the chair flying. "Little ones?"
There was no answer. His annoyance growing, Vader stormed through the establishments, his yellow eyes scanning the rooms impatiently for the twins. Where were they? He'd installed a new security system, hadn't he, a lock from the inside that would stun one if the password was entered incorrectly? There was no was they could have left- unless they were unconscious due to an attempted escape . . .
Vader's brow relaxed as he heard a light snore. Leia was slumped over the couch in the common area, Luke curled up on the floor beside her. He stopped to watch them, their little chests rising and falling in calm rhythms so unlike his own while sleeping.
They looked so . . .
Perfect. He didn't want to wake them. Should he leave them there instead of taking them to the room Triple-Zero had set up for them? But then what if they woke in the middle of the night and freaked out, not remembering where they had fallen asleep? They would likely wander about, something he didn't want to encourage. Perhaps he would just use the Force and . . .
He reached his arm out-
The little blond boy rolled over, as if sensing his presence, both eyes flickering open. Suddenly the little face was marred with an obvious frown, his hands going up to touch his sister's protectively. "Don't touch her," Luke said stiffly. "She didn't do any-fing; don't hurt her."
Vader snatched his hand back, appalled.
Padme hadn't accepted him from the beginning- but the twins had.
They had been the first in three years to do so. To all else, he was a traitor to the Republic, a monster undeserving of life, a failure of a Sith with too much of Skywalker's weakness in him, the Jedi's greatest mistake- yet to them, he was merely a cool guy with a cool weapon come to show them a cool universe. They saw not the traitor, the monster, the failure, the evil Sith Lord- but their Father.
He hadn't realized until now how strongly he clung to that fact.
The realization that that acceptance was gone burned him.
"I wasn't going to," he growled, the angry demeanor disguising as best it could the ache underneath. "Now get your sister up and get to bed. Why didn't you come get me before?"
"I thought it best not to bo'fer you," Luke said quietly, avoiding his eyes and looking at at a spot on the floor. "After Triple-Zero gave us the food, we just decided to get some 'west 'til Mommy was 'weady to put up to sleep." He tugged gently at his sister. "Leia?"
She groaned, stretching a leg. "What, Lukey, why did you have to wake m-" Leia cut off quickly, shrinking into the cushions as she opened an eye to see the Sith Lord towering over her. "Oh," she said lamely.
"Yes, oh," Vader replied, highly irritated. "Now, hurry up and get into bed."
"Where's Momma?" Luke asked stubbornly, not moving an inch.
Vader exploded. "It doesn't matter; I'm here!" he roared, shaking a gloved finger threateningly close to the boy's face. "You don't need her to go to sleep! I'm here and I'm telling you to go, now!"
Luke flinched back but continued to stare at him, still not budging.
The holoscreen shattered behind the Sith. Vader stepped angrily forward, taking him and Leia by the shoulders and pushing them roughly towards the door. "She's sleeping, as you should be."
"Is she okay?" Luke demanded obstinately. "I wanna see her."
Vader would surely have lost complete control to the darkness at the little boy's audacity if not for the familiar glint of worry in the blue eyes.
He stepped back abruptly, releasing his grip on both twins and merely rolling his eyes in vexation. "Just get into that room," he hissed, pointing past them.
Leia was staring up at him now, her long gaze almost unsettling in its intensity. Slowly, she pulled at her brother's elbow. "Let's go, Luke," she said soberly.
The latter grudgingly consented, following her lead. Just before entering the room, however, he looked back, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "Don't hurt Momma. I don't care if you say you're our Fa'ver; you're not a-wowed to."
Vader could only watch, stupefied, as the door slammed behind the twins. His mind churned, his thoughts agitated.
He was shocked. Leia seemed to be the feisty, defiant one, but Luke . . . Luke had a strength in his compassion- Padme's strength.
And it cut at him the same way Padme's did.
Luke - who had been from the beginning even more accepting than Leia - was protecting his sister from him now.
Luke didn't trust him, didn't like him, didn't accept him anymore.
Leia's rejection of him was less obvious, more reluctant . . . but still apparent in the distance she kept from him and the tenseness of her body in his presence.
Suddenly there was no one who did not reject him- not even his own children.
Vader leaned against the door frame, his fists clenched. He was tired, so tired . . .
Before he knew it he was back in his room, all notions of consequences thrown to the wind.
Padme lay curled up on the bed in the fetal position, hugging a pillow to her chest and her fine eyebrows pulled into a frown.
He instinctively stepped forward, unsure of what he was going to do until his gloved hand was upon her forehead and he was smoothing the lines away, hating to see the evidence of the anguish he had so obviously been causing her. His fingers dwindled on the warmth of her skin for a few moments too long; then, reluctantly, he pulled away, leaning down until their faces were level and watching her quietly.
She was so . . . beautiful.
He knew the urge that came over him then was a horrible idea, that he would likely not be received well- but all of a sudden the weariness was overwhelming and he needed more than anything to be beside her in the sheets, in the place where he had always found comfort and acceptance no matter the happenings of the galaxy. Padme could not - would not - reject him there . . . would she?
Shaking his head and pushing the pathetic weakness of the worries firmly away, Vader climbed into the bed without a moment's more of hesitation, sliding into the sheets beside her. His shoulders relaxed inadvertently at the familiarity of the position, the ache deep in his chest filling with warmth.
If only he could pretend that it was still like this, and that she did not hate him in her every waking moment . . .
He reached almost desperately for her, lacing an arm around her stomach and burying his face in her sweet-smelling hair-
Padme stirred, tensing in his grasp.
"I don't want you here." Her tone was flat and tired, her head not even turning to meet his- as if he was not worth her time.
The weariness of her voice shattered his furious resolve, toppling him from the pedestal of darkness until he was falling, falling . . . and everything he knew, even the darkness, was falling apart with him-
"Why?" he burst out, the words rough and fierce in the sudden defenselessness, a shadow flickering in the yellow eyes.
"What?"
"You're my wife! Y-You're supposed to love me, and now- now, I hate the way you look at me!"
She was quiet for a moment. "I did love my husband," she whispered. "But you're not my husband. You're a monster. And I- I can never love you."
Everything froze, the vulnerability washing away in newfound fury as his breathing turned shallow, barely controlled. Her words seeped into his mind like poison into stone, eating away at every part within reach until it was left twisted and scarred beyond recognition. The burning seared back into his chest, flaring up into fire, the hot flames licking angrily at his insides. "What?"
"I think you should leave."
No. Absolutely not. "This is my bed," he snarled.
"Fine," she said curtly. "If you're not leaving, then I am." She grabbed at his arms, pulling at them roughly. "Let me go!"
"No." Vader tightened his arms around her struggling body, his voice dangerously soft. "You're going to lie here with me. I'm sleeping here, and so are you."
She just needed time to get used to the idea, to him. After all, they were so happy before. She'd come around, eventually.
She had to.
He suddenly realized how much he did need - no, desire - her acceptance, regardless of what he might say to himself to convince him otherwise.
This was wrong, so wrong. A Sith Lord did not care for such things, but he did.
Yet in that moment he couldn't even fight it, so consuming was that need . . .
Padme turned to face him, the moonlight hitting her face leaving her deathly pale- beautiful and angelic, yes, but cold and stony and unfeeling.
The yelling and fiery defiance would be better than this.
"I would rather sleep with Jabba the Hutt than with you," Padme said coldly. "Get out."
"NO!"
Vader lost control, something unhinging inside of him. He could feel his restraint shatter, could feel it blowing apart just as certainly as he could feel all his carefully constructed plans explode.
He had been telling himself that everything would be all right- that he would make it all right.
Except nothing was working out the way he wanted it to. No matter how he tried to force the circumstances, even extend a peace offering, nothing was turning out right.
Any and all hesitation for her feelings faded. He wouldn't take any more of this.
He needed her to accept him, and she would.
I'm sorry if you hate this chapter as much as I do- I rewrote it so many times I can't even read it anymore. I made it longer for my reviewers to hopefully even it out... but at some point, you guys waited long enough, so I decided to just post it. Hopefully you at least appreciated the character development and progress. And in response to some of your questions- no, don't worry, no rape; I have something else in mind.
Reviews . . . pretty please?
