Padme stretched her aching back, gazing tenderly over the two sleeping children. Luke stirred, his eyelids fluttering drowsily; Leia, however, remained fast asleep, her mouth slightly open and brown mess of curls splayed all over the pillow. Padme smiled - the little girl was not an early riser, unlike her twin and her mother - turning back to the other bed to see Luke's blue orbs now open and gazing sleepily at her. He blinked groggily as she rubbed an affectionate hand through his blond curls. "Morning, Luke," she breathed. "Do you want to eat something? We should leave and let Leia sleep some more."
"I wanna p-way," he whispered loudly.
She laughed quietly, putting a gentle finger to his lips. "Not so loud, Luke, don't wake your sister. You guys can play after she wakes."
He complied readily, only the slightest downward pull of his eyebrows giving away his disappointment as he obediently climbed out of bed and grabbed at his mother's hand. Padme squeezed it, leading him slowly to the door and out to the kitchen. Once out of the room, and greeted only by an empty silence in the seemingly vacant chambers, Padme quickened her pace, almost smiling in relief.
Everything was so much easier without him around.
Perhaps she could manage to avoid him for the rest of the day.
Finding their way into the kitchen, Padme moved to help Luke into a chair, then striding over to pull at the handle of a cabinet she had seen Vader open the night before. She was pleased to discover a storage of starfruits inside, passing one to Luke and taking one for herself. While the little boy dug into the juicy fruit, however, she opted rather to take only a single bite, finding more pleasure watching the toddler than even gratifying her - somehow already - famished appetite.
If only they could pretend that this was their life: that they were sitting comfortably in the luxury of Varykino, happily enjoying a succulent morsel under the warm sun . . . instead of finding a rare comfort in the cavern of a monster . . .
"Padme."
She almost could not stifle the groan that pushed its way up her throat, turning to face the black shadow she could feel looming behind her. "Vader," she said expressionlessly, her face impassive yet her tongue slicing through the syllables with a hidden venom.
He noticed, stiffening slightly.
Padme only then realized that it was the first time she had actually addressed him by a name since Mustafar.
And strangely enough, such an utterance - really, an admittance of who Vader truthfully was, regardless of the denial that stubbornly crowned her every thought concerning him - had not brought the searing pain she expected.
It had felt . . . rather good.
Like she was slashing him with his own whip.
"The twins requested a replacement for Triple-Zero." Vader gestured, his voice colder now. "This is Admiral Piett. He will be in charge of taking care of you."
"You mean imprisoning us," Padme corrected.
"Taking care of you," Vader snapped.
She rolled her eyes. "Whatever."
Piett's eyes darted nervously between the two, his features a comical mixture of horror and almost awe.
Padme suddenly felt the urge to laugh. It was apparent no Imperial had ever treated their Commander in such a way as she just had.
"Piett." Vader's irritated boom jolted her abruptly back to the present happenings, his tone making it clear his annoyance from the former exchange. "You will be in charge of all my family's needs when I am out. Safety and secrecy, however, are your top priorities. An Imperial spy was here yesterday- I expect none to ever enter these quarters again."
"Yes, sir!"
"I assume you have understood that by that, I mean you are to conduct investigations on the entirety of the crew aboard."
"Yes, sir," Piett replied again, nodding briskly.
"Good."
Vader crossed his arms, ending the discussion yet remaining in the room with apparently nothing more to say. Piett glanced at him, hiding slight confusion- but the Sith made no movement to respond, standing suddenly motionless as if he had hardened into black rock, the only clue to life within the bone-chilling yellow eyes watching them with an unreadable expression. Unsure of what to do, the admiral turned awkwardly to Padme, smiling kindly and giving her a slight bow. "Nice to meet you, milady. I am happy to be of service, and will be here to supply whatever it that could be of comfort to you and the children-"
"Padme," she interrupted abruptly, her interjection causing him to stumble, his eyebrows pulling together in bewilderment.
"M-Milady?"
Padme herself did not know why she was letting down her guard, to an Imperial officer of all people . . . only that something akin to relief was seeping through the barriers erected hard in her mind, percolating through the unyielding obstacles like they were nothing more than water or air. Even in the wary warning of her still sharp mind her will power would not rise up to block such a pleasing intrusion; her cold state was left flustered, her icy spine of steel wavering and disorientated.
Such good-natured friendliness- it was so alien, yet so . . . needed.
She had not seen a genuine smile apart from those of her children in solong . . .
Then she could not help the cracking of the protective exterior, a hint of her true self shining through- not the venomous Senator Amidala, but the raw and hurting Padme that craved warmth and comfort and love, all of which had been so long denied. The small crevices spread, the walls weakening, but she could not harden them with her resolve this time, her soul too desperate for some affability, some kindness, something good in the place. . .
"My name is Padme," she said softly. "Padme Amidala Skywalker-"
"It's Milady," Vader hissed, his sudden angry retort cutting off the other man as the latter opened his mouth to speak. The Sith glowered fearsomely at the two, but Padme did not deign him even a glance, annoyance rising and spiking her bloodstream in irritated bursts.
The young officer shifted uncomfortably, giving Padme just the barest hint of an apologetic look. "Lady Vader . . . "
"Padme," she snapped, her voice acidic. "Don't ever call me that again." Piett flinched slightly, the movement infusing her with shame for lashing out so ungraciously in her bitterness. "Please," she added in a kinder tone.
Piett looked up, his eyes darting once up to the Sith before looking over at her, his eyes now clear with an almost sympathetic comprehension. "Of course, Milady," he said quietly. "I will keep that in mind." His gaze flickered once more to Vader, settling quickly back onto her at the lack of response and . "Well, shall I go over everything with you now?"
Padme turned to the unmoving Sith, raising a brow at him expectantly. "Weren't you supposed to be leaving now?"
He shifted, his voice harsh but failing to disguise the bewilderment. "Excuse me?"
"You're obviously done speaking," she stated matter-of-factly, folding her arms to match his. "So why are you still here?"
His eyes darted uncertainly down to hers for only a second- but it was not short enough to keep her from seeing the swirling of pain and outrage in the yellow depths. "I- You- I have every right to be here," he growled.
Padme shrugged dismissively. "Fine, up to you." She gave a prolonged exhale, shaking her head just the slightest bit in clear exasperation before turning to smile pleasantly at Piett, now ignoring Vader altogether. "I am afraid Luke and I are hungry."
Piett nodded, solemn but amiable. "And what would you and the young man like?"
"Sweet!" Luke interjected happily, his wide-eyed observation of the elders ceasing in his excitement. "Sweet food!"
Padme rolled her eyes jokingly. "Anything would be nice. Some bantha milk and bread would be good, if you could get that, along with some more fruit."
"Blue milk custard or fruit tart instead," Luke pleaded to Piett. "We never get sweet stuff."
Padme eyed the admiral pointedly, her brown eyes threatening but alight with mirth.
"I'm sorry, young man," Piett said kindly, darting a partially fearful look at Padme that was almost comical. "I'm afraid we won't be able to get those."
"Okay, b-wead and fruit good then," Luke agreed soberly.
Padme laughed, looking to Piett to give him a warm look of gratitude. "Th-"
She cut off in surprise as Vader gave a sudden scoff, his lip curling and stiff features twisting scornfully. Before either she or Piett could make sense of the abrupt change he was turning roughly to leave, slamming the door down behind him with a spiteful flick of the hand.
"Well, I suppose he decided it was time to leave?" Padme offered Piett a muddled half-smile, her mind spinning with a strange feeling of guilt.
So he did have feelings after all.
She might not have consciously decided to hurt him by the way she has just acted . . . but she certainly hadn't taken care to keep from doing so. No, she had only concluded with a hollow internal laugh that such a monster had no feelings.
But the monster . . . well, it was showing more similarities to the man in each passing moment spent with him.
And that brought hope.
It terrified her, the thought of falling into the very trap she had been warning herself against due to some acute but foolish pang of desperate.
She knew better. Why couldn't she stop this?
Truthfully, that was the one question she knew the answer for with every thud of her bleeding heart but would never in a million years admit it to herself.
"How new, like he isn't this moody or enigmatic often," Padme found herself remarking sarcastically, expecting Piett to laugh in return.
The admiral however, only remained with his eyes glued to the door Vader had exited, his expression perplexed and clearly stunned. "It's not my place to remark on that," he said slowly, his gaze flickering just once quickly to Padme, "but my commander certainly has never acted the way he just did now."
Vader stood alone in his chambers, trembling.
From what?
Too many things- and all of them too unpleasant to be faced or acknowledged.
No matter how he tried, he could not push out the image of Padme talking to the admiral, her brown eyes sparkling with a bewitching light instead of narrowed with hate or bleak with emptiness, her graceful lips turned up into a smile instead of pursued coldly, her fine eyebrows quirked up with mirth instead of judgement.
And her laugh . . .
He had not heard her laugh in so long - even during the war it had been a rare occurrence, a scarce delight - but now . . . now it hurt, because it was not for him, not this time, not anymore.
It was for someone else.
The light and warmth in her expression she had once reserved only for him was not his anymore. She now reserved feelings for him that were quite the opposite.
She did not love him.
It came crushing on now, the weight of a thousand hundred-ton trucks, seeming to splinter every bone in his back and chest as he staggered forward, clutching at something, anything to hold him up- to hold him together. All this time he had been deluding himself with . . . no, all along, she'd been playing with his heart of glass, just as she did so now. Every surge of suffocating rage gushed through him once more: when he had realized on Mustafar of her betrayal and deceitful love, when he hand found her with Obi-Wan preferring the company of an upstart Jedi Master to that of her own husband's . . .
And now, treating a hated Imperial with the affection she would not bestow even a tenth of on him . . .
Padme had not mourned his death, quivering before his casket from a deep-set sorrow so potent it tore her apart from the inside out. Padme had not sat alone in a dark room, wasting away before his memory though it ripped mercilessly at her dead soul. Padme had not unintentionally reduced herself to a weak fool, sweating before the stove for hours learning to cook a dish too sweet just so she could relive the familiar taste of the Shurra fruit syrup on his tongue.
No, she had moved on . . . if she had ever loved him to begin with.
From him, to Obi-Wan, to now Piett.
Vader roared, smashing his fist into the bedpost as it cracked to land with a crash on the other side of the room, the mirror in the adjoining fresher shattering and pieces of glass ricocheting off walls to land at his feet. He crumbled, landing in the middle of it all, the sheets hacked to bits of scrap and hanging in shreds like the fragmenting of his already ruined heart.
It was agony, and he didn't know how to stop it. Not even the Dark Side could take away the pain, because the woman he loved more than anything did not care for him, and he was alone . . .
"Dada?"
Vader reluctantly raised his head to the small feminine voice, feeling disgusted as he became suddenly aware of wetness on his face. "What?" he asked roughly, wiping it quickly away and avoiding the gaze of the small girl.
"W-What are you 'finking about?" Leia asked quietly, standing in the doorway overlooking the mess with a somber expression.
"Nothing," he said harshly, attempting to cover up the rawness in his voice that remained evidence to his angst. "Why?"
"I can feel you." She hesitantly toddled forward, picking her way clumsily through the clutter to stand in front of him, her head for the first time level with his. "You feel hurt," she said solemnly. Her small hand reached up hesitantly to put it to his chest, her big eyes looking compassionately into his. "Right here."
Vader felt his eyes grow suddenly heavy. "I- No I don't."
"Yes you do." The little voice was grave but assured, the gaze unusually clear in its certainty for a child of so young. "But you don't 'ave to feel bad about it. Momma feels it too."
The bitterness rose in a surge. "Because she misses Obi-Wan?"
"I don't 'fink so," Leia said slowly. "The hurt- it's bigger when she 'wooks at you."
His breath rushed into his lungs in a quick intake of air - hope - his mind searching desperately for the meaning; but it was gone in a fleeting moment, wilting painfully under the brutality of his iron logic. It couldn't be; even if the special bond with his wife had been broken since Mustafar, it was impossible that the girl could know more than he. Padme was his wife, after all.
Yet even so, the brown orbs before him were so earnest and kind . . . and looking into them, he could not help the swell within-
"Thank you, little one," he said hoarsely, clearing his throat.
The little girl's voice was firm. "Leia."
"Leia," he repeated softly, the corners of his mouth forming a small smile at the warm caress of the name on his tongue. "Leia."
She smiled happily at him, and Vader could not help but smile tentatively back, something tugging at the lifeless tatters within like a needle pulling gently at broken pieces of cloth.
"No more 'fings will break today?" Leia asked soberly.
He nodded quietly. "No more things will break today, Leia."
He would do whatever was necessary to claim his family- his wife.
What would show them the benefit of joining him, all that he could give them that others - even Skywalker - could not?
Favorite moment(s) in this chapter? Mine were definitely the shurra paragraph, the moment with Leia, and especially the scoff . . . oh, Vader ;)
If you're out there reading, will you please review for the next chapter . . . pretty please?
I hope the only 2 reviews so far on this chapter doesn't mean you guys hated this . . . :(
