"Ani, is that you?"
Anakin stared silently at his mother, still as beautiful and as humble as he remembered her from so many years ago. She was truly an angel, just like Padmé. She was clad in the simple clothes of a moisture farmer's wife- nothing you would find in an Imperial city. This should be the happiest moment of his life.
But is it me? Am I Ani?
He was jerked from his trance and a deluge of anger from within rose to the surface.
"Go on, ask," he snapped.
Shmi's eyebrows quivered slightly, but she remained calm in spite of his fit. Padmé attempted to squeeze his flesh hand, but he yanked it away.
"Ani," Padmé cautioned. He ignored her.
"Ask!" he shouted. "Ask me why I look like this! Ask me where I've been! Ask me about the 'better life' you hoped I would have, and ask me where I got these scars!"
He stepped closer to his mother, yet she did not back away.
"Ask me why there's hair on only half of my head! Ask me why I'm missing an arm and a leg! Do it!"
He was glaring down on her now, looking into pleading blue eyes. He had seen those eyes in so many of his victims shortly before he began an aggressive interrogation or snapped their necks, but this time it was different. These were his own eyes staring back up at him.
Anakin was finally forced to confront himself, to answer her question. But even as he gazed directly into what could have been, and what could still be, he couldn't do it.
"Oh, mother!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around her tiny body, holding back tears that threatened to wash over her combed brunette locks.
I want to be Ani.
Padmé glanced around the silent dinner table. Anakin's introduction to Cliegg had been far less emotional, in fact, emotionless. It was impossible to tell what Anakin thought of his new stepfather.
"You haven't asked yet," said Anakin, addressing no one in particular.
Padmé sighed. "They're not asking because they don't care, Anakin! This is your family and they're not judging you for how you look! They're just happy that you're alive. Why can't you see that?"
"She's right, ya know," Cliegg added. "I'm short a limb myself, if ya haven't noticed. Shmi's never thought me any less of a person for it."
Anakin grunted and went back to eating his meat, practically inhaling it whole before standing and quietly excusing himself.
Padmé glanced at Shmi, heartbroken by her son's reaction to finally being home. Part of her wanted to share Anakin's story so that his mother would know his burden and understand the inner conflict he was going through, but the other part silenced her, knowing that it was Anakin's story to tell.
"I'm sorry," she said, rising. "The meal was lovely, Beru. Thank you."
Beru smiled in acknowledgment as Padmé followed Anakin's clanking footsteps from the dining area and down a dark, musty flight of stairs.
"Do you even know where you're going?" she called out, hoping to slow him down.
"Leave me alone, Padmé," he shouted back. "I need to build something. Or destroy something and rebuild it."
Padmé rolled her eyes and followed the voice into a small cavern that served as a storage facility for the Lars' farming equipment.
"This will do," Anakin said to himself, using the Force to shatter a number of tools on a wooden table used to fix malfunctioning vaporators.
"And if a vaporator should break while its replacement parts are being rebuilt?" said Padmé.
"Then I'll build faster," he responded, picking up a few pieces. "I find your lack of faith disturbing."
"Anakin, look at me," Padmé commanded, embracing her Senator voice, as her patience was growing thin.
Yet she almost trembled as the man before her dropped the pieces of metal in his hands and clenched his fists. She was beginning to doubt whether he could ever truly be Anakin.
But as he slowly turned to face her and she noticed no streaks of gold in his eyes, she relaxed and simply asked, "What's wrong?"
"You shouldn't love me, Padmé," he replied. "I'm a monster. Calling me by a different name does not erase the things I've done these past few years. It does not wipe the blood of those I have slain, many of which were friends of yours, off my hands, or cleanse my soul of the pain of failure I have carried with me every day. My mother deserves a better son than me."
"Don't say that," Padmé answered, stepping closer to him. "Your mother loves you. She took you into her home and welcomed you with open arms and a warm heart, and I know she'd do the same thing over again even if she knew the things you'd done. The bond between a mother and her son is not easily broken."
"If she knew and still took me in," Anakin countered, "it would be out of pity and an overabundance of kindness, not love. Poor Lord Vader, just a lost soul hoping for redemption from his crimes and a roof to sleep under while he figures out his life."
"In case you've forgotten," Padmé continued, fighting to retain her professional expression, "I fell in love with Lord Vader. Regardless of your name, you are capable of being loved and you need to accept that."
Anakin took a deep breath. "I need time, Padmé. And some kriffing pants that actually fit."
Padmé bit her lip, fighting the urge to smile. "I'll go see what I can find."
"Wait," Anakin said, grabbing hold of her arm. She winced upon feeling the squeeze of his metal hand and he relaxed his grip. "Don't go- your presence is soothing."
"You don't seem particularly soothed," Padmé replied.
"Look, Padmé, I don't need pants right now!" Anakin responded, letting go of her arm. He started fumbling with his belt.
"What are you doing?" said Padmé, her mortification evident as he stripped down to his underclothes.
"Showing you," Anakin answered, "that I don't need pants. Look, Padmé! I don't need pants! Look at my right leg. It's metal. I am a machine and machines don't need pants!"
"Ani, you need help!" Padmé exclaimed, suddenly feeling very uneasy. "You're acting like, like…"
"Like what?" he interrupted, moving toward her as she stepped away, losing some of her bravery. The wooden table behind him rattled by an unseen Force. "A dark, violent mechanical beast?"
"Like a hormonal teenager!" Padmé finally screamed, no longer caring if she offended him. "Maybe I should have left you at the base and let Obi-Wan teach you how to control yourself. Look, I get it. You're going through an identity crisis. You were stripped of the life you once had and forced into a role that you have adapted to, but you have your life back now. It's up to you whether or not you want to reclaim it. Stop fighting it, Ani. Let go of the darkness."
A tear rolled down Padmé's flushed cheek as she maintained her ground, trying in vain to read the expressionless man before her. The stretch of silence felt equivalent to spending years watching a pile of sand accumulate outside. She closed her eyes as he closed the distance between them, prepared to face whatever pain he was about to inflict upon her for her outspokenness.
But the pain didn't come, only a soft kiss on her lips and a warm whisper in her ear that breathed, "I'm sorry."
The words sent a tingling sensation down her spine that spread throughout her body. It was like the moment she had fixed the electricity when they were stranded on Hoth. It didn't solve everything, but it made her heart beat a little faster, and the room a little warmer, and offered a tiny glimmer of hope.
Padmé reached up and grabbed the locks of hair flowing beside the left side of his face and pulled him down to her. He didn't resist as she initiated another kiss, instead matching her enthusiasm. She knew that she should stop things here- Anakin needed space. And she needed sleep.
Padmé reached her hands under his shirt, running them along his chest, making sure to give equal attention to both sides. She knew now that he truly saw himself as half a man- the half being the smooth muscles covered in wispy locks of hair. The other half, hairless and scarred, he believed made him a monster. She aimed to break this self-consciousness and traced her hand over his wampa cut. He had removed the bandage, and it seemed like so long ago that she had put it on in the first place.
"That seems to have healed well," Padmé said when she finally had an opportunity to come up for air.
"What can I say?" Anakin responded, mischief blooming in his adoring eyes. "I had a pretty good nurse. Though she did cross the line a bit."
"Is she crossing the line now?" Padmé whispered.
"Definitely," Anakin replied before she felt his lips crash into hers once more. She gasped as she felt them move down to her neck, placing soft kisses on her veins.
Padmé's thoughts grew fuzzy as she focused only on the sensations in that moment. One of his hands, the metal one, was agilely untying the strings and ribbons on the back of her gown, while the flesh hand gently traced her collarbone, as if it was awaiting permission to make its way just a few inches lower on her body.
She gently moaned her answer to him, but didn't realize until she could no longer feel the hand at all that the words "Yes, Vader" had just left her lips.
"Well then," said Anakin, "looks like I'm not the only one who's a bit confused about what I want."
Surprise! I told you there would be frequent updates. Thanks to all the new followers and everyone who has been leaving reviews. I really appreciate your feedback and encouragement!
To address a few specifics, thank you to the reviewer who mentioned they are glad to have found this story after reading some of the all-time great Vadmé fics on this site. Those stories have been a huge inspiration to me in my writing. Since I have been away from this site for a while, if there are any new (new = published in the past few months) Vader/Padmé fics you guys think that I would enjoy, please feel free to send me links!
Secondly, as you may have noticed in this chapter, Cliegg is wheelchair-bound in this story even though the events that led to this in the movies did not occur. He will have a different backstory, don't worry.
And lastly, this fic is rated T, not M, so this is as detailed as the romance scenes will get. If you are looking for something more graphic, you're in the wrong place.
Hope you are all enjoying your Christmas! -Lyanna
