-------------------------------------------------------------
From Where Ever I Am To You 2/?
by Meredith Bronwen Mallory
septembers0demon@crosswinds.net
-------------------------------------------------------------
|Harvest Day 4|
Tomorrow I am going to steal something. A fork. Not sheers, I'm not as
ambitious as all that. Certainly, I will need to be careful. It's a risk,
but a calculated one, and who can live like this without taking risks? I
want to last, or I say I do, but there's no use in lasting as a coward.
Better to go down fighting.
You said that once. Did you mean it?
You're closer to me now, I think. It's as if we are two planets, whose
orbits are elliptical, crossing closely, then briefly, then not at all. I
catch glimpses of you, occasionally, but it's always through someone else's
eyes. I can't trust that.
They talked about you tonight, on the holo-cast. I almost missed it, I'd
let my mind wander from the endless string of supposed victories, then the
society segment. Countess So-and-So wed the Lord of Such-and-Such House. No
one I knew, at least not enough to make them real. They said your name, not
your real one, but the one you use now, and I raised my head quickly. I
forced my gaze into a tunnel vision, seeing only the brown of the table in
front of me, because I could feel the eyes all over my body, waiting for a
reaction. They wanted to know, those women, just exactly how I feel about
you. How can I explain it to them when I don't even know myself? I listened
as best I could, but there was a roaring in my ears I couldn't get past. The
reporters were only setting the scene, though. They'd mentioned your name to
get our attention.
It worked.
I looked up, saw that there was only one Stormtrooper. The other had
probably ducked out for a glass of water- they do that sometimes- and the
remaining one had his back to me. I stood as quietly as I could, turned
around. My table was closest to the partition, I'd had my back to it. A few
steps, then I pressed my ear against the grainy surface of the barrier,
listening. It was if the wall was whispering to me, telling me alone, but I
know that's not so. We all heard it, every one of us. Public testimony. The
voice from the holo-cast had a little tone now, it was getting to the meat
of the ordeal. The center, around which everything had hardened. It was a
man's voice, saying something about an uprising on Erntria.
Very matter of fact, "One hundred men and women killed by order of Lord
Vader."
I felt hands under my arms, hushed voices, a collective murmur of pity or
disbelief. There was a woman on either side of me, lifting me back to my
seat. I had blacked out, I suppose, crumbled to the floor. Possibly, I'd
died.
"Hey," I was sitting then, some one was shaking me, "Come on, honey. Stay
here, get a hold of yourself. It's not going to do you any good." I nodded,
groping blindly for the hand I knew was being held out to me, gripped onto
it as forcefully as I dared. I tilted my face, staring up at the ceiling. If
I had been outside, if it had been raining, I might have drowned.
I would have liked that.
Possibly my desire to steal, my need to rebel in some small way, has been
forced to the surface by that incident. Recklessness, self-destruction, all
rolled into one. I don't know what they'd do if they caught me, it's just a
fork, but I've been punished for less.
If I am writing this to you, if I am pretending that you will someday see
this, then I am free to ask you what I please.
I want to ask you now; Is it worth it?
|Night|
I not not childless! I have children, two of them, a boy and a girl. Small,
perfect, with wide, questioning eyes and arms that used to cling to me. I
was a mother, am a mother. No one can take that from me. They are alive now,
they must be, such care was taken to hide them. They are a part of us, a bit
of Anakin and some of Amidala, two jeweled eggs sitting in the ashes.
Something has to rise out of all this destruction.
Again, I must slow myself, pace myself, stop the words from flowing over.
The guards outside must wonder what it is I type with such fervor. No matter
now- I pried the drawer open. It took me longer than I thought, to work up
the courage to steal the fork. They moved me to early morning shift, for the
few days we have of planting for next spring. That made it easier, I could
take my forbidden tool straight back to my room, not feel the weight of it
as I tried to work in the fields.
I slept on it the first night, hiding it under my mattress. I didn't dare
use it right away, in case they noticed it was missing. They might count the
utensils, I do not consider them beyond anything. I was careful, as careful
as I could be. I waited until the guards switched shifts, right in the
middle of sleep cycle. It wakes me, I always hear them anyway, the sound of
their boots on the stone floor carries. I'd slide out of bed, ever so
slowly, slip my hand under the mattress, hunting for the fork. There was a
large gap between the heads of the nails and the board, a sloppy job on one
side of the drawer, and I would wedge the fork underneath. The first time I
broke the prongs, so I took care to use the thick end of the handle. I
didn't concentrate on any single nail, but worked a little on each, dividing
my attention.
I had to work at this for ten nights on end. The nails had been in there
for a while, they'd rusted and did not want to come out. I worked a little
each night, as much as I could. It's hard to judge the Stormtroopers, their
masks make them soulless. I suppose you know all about that. Without an
expression to read, I don't know if they suspect, or if they even think at
all. A nail popped out the third night, without warning. The force of it
threw my hand away, and in the dim light of my glow lamp, the nail became a
shooting star. Rusted as it was, it still glittered slightly, arching
through the air, utterly futile. It landed on the floor, the sound of glass
wind-chimes, of a breaking chalice. I felt like I could shatter then, a
million tiny pieces, waiting in utter silence. No sound from outside. I
retrieved the nail, held it up in the light. The end had been blunted, or
broken when I removed it. I put that under the mattress too, I might find
some use for it. Finally, I pried loose all the nails from one side. They
were all damaged, in some way or another. Even the sharpest ones wouldn't
do, they were not strong enough, and I want a quick escape. Lingering would
do me no good, someone would find me, before it's finished. It wouldn't do,
either, to have scratches on my wrist, to be seen by others.
Evidence of failure.
Opening the drawer was easy enough, after that. I used the rough edges of
the nails to scratch finger-holds for myself. It made enough noise though,
when I opened it, and I was sure I'd already been caught. The track squeaked
in protest, rolled the container out onto my ankle by mistake. I don't know
how long I sat there, heavy weight against my leg, feeling as though I'd be
severed. It was worth it, though. I pulled the drawer all the way out, set
it to the side. The bottom of the box-spring is covered in mesh, and I cut
that with the nails too. The space is big enough that I can slip this
inside. There's no way they'll find it, even if they move the bed.
I can speak freely now. It's hard to remember what that's like.
So, where do I start, exactly? To tell this sordid thing from the beginning
is a luxury I don't have. It's in pieces all around me, anyway, the memories
cut like broken glass when I try to pick them up. Not even I can recount my
fall from grace, the fall from knowledge to ignorance- though I may know
more now than I did before. I was a Queen once, if you can believe that. I
was a Senator, I was a wife, a mother. The whole thing was like a runaway
speeder, one betrayal after another, with the navigation panel shot. I
didn't know where I was going.
"I die every time you do it." Your mother said that. Do you remember? I
understood her, at last, because I'd hear the whispers. Jedi Training Center
on Bespin, gone- quick and clean. The details were you, down to the last
drop. I wouldn't believe it though. I wasn't alone in my denial, and that
made it easier. The council pretended you were dead, Obi-Wan tip-toed around
the whole affair, looking blank-eyed at the mention of your name. I began to
withdraw, slowly, from political life. Any meeting that couldn't be avoided
was orchestrated by Sabe`, acting in my name. The Emperor- though he wasn't
calling himself that yet- had just cemented his power,but he hadn't played
his trump card yet. We all waited in suspended animation, convinced we
couldn't move until we knew what he was up to.
By then it was too late.
It wasn't just myself I was thinking of, though- I had my children to look
after. Then I had my child to look after. Maybe I don't want to write this
down after all. Writing it down makes it true.
I actually didn't get to know Luke very well.
My chambers reeked of it, the crime, when I came home. I'd been out for the
afternoon, for what I can no longer remember, but it was something that
required my true presence. Something to do with the Rebellion, then, for I
was playing cat and mouse with the Imperials. Sabe` had been playing the
decoy for months- and she was good at it too- I'm not sure if anyone really
noticed the difference. Except the Emperor, except you, and that was what
counted. I hated being confined, hidden away, like some secret. I felt
tucked under the rug. How was I to know that those were happy times? I had
my children, my twins. During the long daylight hours, when it was dangerous
to move around and possibly be seen, I'd sit in bed with the twins and help
them build towers out of small crystalline blocks. Leia was never interested
in building, though, she wanted to look at the prisms. I see them now, held
aloft by her small, chubby fingers, making rainbows in the pale sunlight. I
couldn't tell the difference, but she regarded each as individual. She'd
take them and hide them, sometimes five at a time, under the sheets and away
from Luke.
He liked to try and figure out where she'd put them- finding them was the
game, not the retrieval.
Sometimes I read to them. Bail brought me- partly as a gift and partly as a
peace offering - a small book of legends from different worlds. I avoided
the ones I knew, the ones from Tatooine, telling myself I wanted to share
that first-glimpse wonder with my children. I must have known,
subconsciously, what had happened to you. Was happening. I was cutting
myself off, even then, from the parts of you that were human. Maybe I
somehow hoped it would make it easier to face the truth.
Well, that didn't work.
Obi-Wan was there when I opened the door, which was only something of a
surprise, I thought that he had been visiting Sabe`. My handmaid had stayed
behind with the twins, but even knowing they were in her care I still felt
nervous. I didn't like leaving them.
"Hello," I said distractedly, looking towards the door to my bedroom, which
doubled as a nursery. I was straining to hear whether or not the twins had
been put down for their nap. Silence from the Jedi at my side, and I finally
turned to look at him, my nervousness reaching its peak. It was there, in
his eyes, in the way he stood between the door and myself, a blockade. There
came a soft, strangled sound, like air escaping a punctured balloon. That
was me, my small, irrelevant sound of denial. I pushed past Obi-Wan roughly,
threw open the door to my room. Sabe` was draped across the bed, almost
artfully- she must have been drugged. My hands grabbed for the bars of the
double crib, pulling my body forward, propelling my face to look inside.
Leia gazed up at me, red eyed, exhausted from crying, flailing her arms
uselessly. She would forget later, but she knew then what had been taken
from her. She was only a little more than a year old. I picked her up,
cradling her closely, almost painfully, as I whirled to face Obi-Wan.
Luke was gone.
"Where is he?" I spat. I hated him then, the man who'd been my friend and
almost-mentor for more than ten years. I wanted to rip his throat out. There
was no way he could know, he was a man, there was no way he could know what
he'd done.
"Luke is in good hands, Amidala," my full name, so patronizing.
"How *could* you!?" I held Leia more tightly, because if I didn't I would
claw the Jedi to death. Anger burned in me then, more than I had for you,
because you had not solidified. I had no proof of you, yet. Obi-Wan's
betrayal cut to the bone, lodged there.
"We need to keep him safe, you know that," he'd begun to pace, looking at
me with eyes that implored my forgiveness. He had no right.
"He was safe with me!" I roared. Leia wiggled in my arms, frightened, but
too drained to cry out.
"What if something happens to you?" he challenged.
"You think he'll be safe where you put him? They won't know how to look
after him!"
"I will watch after him," Obi-Wan retorted. I saw then that it had come out
without him willing it to. That statement gave him away.
My voice trembled, swelled, there wasn't room enough in it for all my rage,
"You do know where he is! I hate you..," I was shaking then, tears streaming
down my face, erasing my mask. The emptiness was overwhelming, I thought I
might implode, become a Black Hole and devour with the force of my loss. I
felt as though I might simply disappear, "Oh, oh..." I felt so weak, so
angry, there were no words for it. My crying prompted Leia to howl, as she
surely must have howled when Obi-Wan took Luke from the crib. The Jedi
stepped forward a bit, extended his hand as if to comfort. "Don't touch me!"
I screamed, "Get out, get out, I never want to see you again!"
I held Leia for a long time after that, afraid to let go, afraid she too
would vanish. Sabe` woke a little later, and cried for the first time I'd
seen in years. It was her fault, she said, for not suspecting. She'd trusted
Obi-Wan too much. I tried to comfort her, but my own grief was so great, it
was hard to do anything but turn inwards on myself. I want to see Sabe`
again, so I can tell her I know it wasn't her fault.
I had Leia with me for a few more months.
Thank the Force for small mercies.
I still don't know where Luke is.
|Night|
Winter now, in earnest. Cold washing over the stone floor like a flood, not
a comforting cold but a hard one, solid. In the summer, the floor almost
feels like water, and if I lay on it long enough I think I can sink into it.
Frost is growing, like invading vines, or poisonous flowers, in the corners
of my room. It's almost impossible to imagine that it was unbearably hot
some time ago. Some time, everything is some vague measure of time. The only
estimate I have is the rise and fall of the sun, but my nights run together,
multiply until they are too numerous to count. We don't go outside now,
anyway, so I have no way of knowing if the sun has come at all. If I were to
go beyond these walls, there is every chance I wouldn't be able to see it,
anyway, through the clouds. That would never do, I'd think the sun is gone
forever.
Is it warm where you are? I know you hate the cold.
Possibly the light is simply hidden.
This planet is a place of extremes- it doesn't pussy foot around anything.
I like the cold, harsh as it is. Sometimes, in the haziness of half sleep, I
think I've become a thing of ice, that the frost has closed around me in a
type of diamond coffin. On Tatooine, the carnival would come right after the
best season, when the traders and moisture farmers were in a good mood, and
set up stop in Mos Eisley. One of the attractions they'd show was a large
block of ice, kept in a cold room that must have cost a fortune to maintain.
It wasn't simply ice, though that is enough of a wonder in the desert. Some
artist had carved the ice into the shape of the a woman, all curves and
frozen movement. Beauty preserved forever, but utterly barren. That's what
they'd call the attraction- 'The Most Beautiful Woman in the Galaxy'.
You told me about that, and in your eyes I could see the memory. Yourself,
just a few years younger than when I first knew you, face pressed up against
the glass. You said you saw me in there.
I think I could be her.
In the winter they put us to work indoors, sorting parts for the field
droids that need repairing. It's surprising how many of them break; I wonder
what type of work they do. Are the thorns on their plants sharper than ours,
larger, smarter? That's the job of a thorn, you know, to protect the plant,
to outsmart the invader. You should see them- the droids- after the harvest
is over. Limbs (not arms, because they have more than two) broken off in
places, wires sticking out, motors clogged, begging attention. Theirs must
be a hard job, and I feel sorry for them. They're programmed, they couldn't
stop even if they wanted to, even if they're about to damage themselves. I
do know that the fruit they pick is poison to most species, until warmed to
the right temperature.
Isn't that risky? I'd be afraid to eat it, even if it had been cooked
properly, because you never can tell.
|Rest Period|
It's become even colder now, if that's possible. I've been given a heavier
blanket (which I was given the pervious winters) and a small heater, which
is new. I wonder what I have done to deserve this, this reward. Surely it
must be that, no one else has a heater. Sometimes I wish they wouldn't give
me these things, these extras. I am no better or worse than any other woman
here. I just have the coincidence of being your wife. Of having been.
Did you think I was going to say 'unfortunate'?
Then I feel even more guilty, because I appreciate the heater. I've hooked
it onto the headboard, it's amazing what a little thing like that can do.
It's too small to help the floor though, and that is one plight I share with
all the other prisoners. The shoes we wear are not really shoes at all- more
like soft-soled leather slippers. In the summer, they are a grave relief,
but now they become another risk. I've taken the cotton sheet, the one I use
in the summer, and torn two strips from it, to wrap around my feet. It isn't
much, but it lessens the frostbite. Last year a woman died of the cold-
hypothermia, they said it was, in their own cold way.
"Her bunkmate found her," said Courwyn, whispering to me in the fresher.
"No body noticed it at first," she said, in a way that told me she'd been
there, though not directly involved. Courwyn was standing under the unit to
my left, working her hands through her ebony curls. I almost stopped what I
was doing, to listen, but I remembered what that could be interpreted as.
"We were all in a hurry to get the beds made, get our robes on. The troopers
get annoyed if we dally, you know," Courwyn went on, then paused
expectantly. I nodded to show that yes, I did know. "The girl had the top
bunk, and Anshii- that's the girl who shared with her- realized that the
girl's robe was still hanging there, and that she wasn't even awake. Anshii
didn't say anything, she just wanted to get the girl out of bed. It'd be bad
for both of them if the troopers came and things were left undone. She
climbed up on the ladder and started shaking the other girl, slow at first
and then really hard. Anshii thought the girl had just gone into herself,
like some of them do."
"They do?" Then I did pause, if only for a moment. One of the Stormtoopers
turned my way, and I bent down, pretending to wash my legs. I shouldn't have
said it so loud, but my curiosity had peaked a little. I wasn't the only
one, then, overwhelmed by the desire to live inside memories. The color is
so much brighter, there.
"Hell, yeah," Courwyn muttered, then eyed me sharply. "Don't even think
about it. You know what they do with cases like that?" I squeezed my eyes
shut, desperately, not wanting to hear it but knowing I needed to. It would
discourage me. "They use 'em. Even Stormtroopers need bribes, you know. Most
of them don't have girlfriends to go home to, and if they do they barely get
to see them. One of us goes too far in, it's like an open invitation. After
all, the girl doesn't put up a fight."
Silence stretched between us. My stomach had forced itself up somewhere in
my throat; my mind conjured up a threatening image of what that might be
like. To be a doll, empty, with no soul- an instrument, valued for its
usefulness only, not for emotion, or even beauty. I felt hungry, I needed to
eat to prove myself alive.
"What happened, to the girl?" I prompted. Courwyn looked up, almost
startled. Perhaps she had been experiencing the same vision. She cleared her
throat, once twice, like something had caught there.
"That's when I heard Anshii scream. Seems that the girl's lips had turned
blue, or her eyes were open, or something really obvious. I was already on
my way over with another girl, thank the Maker we'd both gotten up a little
before the bell, so we had our beds already made. Anshii had fallen down the
ladder and was sitting on the floor crying. I looked over the railing, felt
for the girl's pulse. Dead cold, you wouldn't believe it. Like a block of
ice." I shivered, even in the warmth of the fresher. At least they keep it
warm in there.
I think about it sometimes, before I go to sleep. I draw the heavy blanket
over myself, use what's left of my cotton sheet as a shawl. I cross my arms
over my breasts, wonder if I will wake up in the morning. Who would find me?
A Stormtrooper, most likely, not someone who would scream or cry. I have the
heater now, I shouldn't have to worry about it.
I'm not sure how I feel about that.
|Night|
Today, we had snow. Falling from the pitch black sky, lit only from the
pale glow of the cafeteria, resting against the sky-lights. Eventually it
covered them all together, no more darkness, just blank white. I think about
snow now, on Coruscant it was a rare and beautiful thing. The technical
crews were always so certain they'd mastered the weather of our city-planet,
beaten it into submission; but every once in a while something unexpected
would happen, as if to prove we did not have control after all. Or it might
only have been the planet stirring from its slumber, reminding us that it
was a live thing in its own way. Sometimes I think it was waiting for us to
go away.
Thunderstorms were the most common of anomalies. Snow was more unusual, but
I can remember a few times. Something of a miracle, that, to have snow
happen on Coruscant. I think about the tiny white flakes, catching the
lights of buildings that dotted the sky. Normally these lights were merely
pretty- but the snow made them beautiful. I think about walking with you, in
the central pavilion, arms linked, both of us gazing up at the sky. I wore
less elaborate gowns, because it was our time together and I wanted no
complications. Over that I had a cape, trimmed in fake fur, which you always
said made me look unreal.
The whole thing was unreal, you said, frozen water from the sky. Think of
it!
I do, and then I think of the snow from a different view. Falling past my
window, collecting on the sill, making little shadows across the carpeting
and my hair. My own hair, long and in wavy ringlets, spread over the
carpeting because we could not wait long enough to make it to the bed.
The snow never lasted long.
It was not snowing the day I received the summons. Nor was it raining,
though I always think of rain- I must have added that in. This is the way it
always is, I think of happy times, with you, and then I think of something
else. Something that cancels it out. It wasn't raining, but it was gray. A
shadow had fallen over the sky. I know because I could see it through the
large bay window in Bail's suite. I had moved in with him then, though we were
never alone, and it was certainly nothing more than a sanctuary for me. It
would be easier to hide there, Sabe` reasoned, Palpatine would not want to
make enemies of the Alderaan senators, he would not send soldiers for me.
She was right, to a degree. He did not send Stormtroopers, but he sent his
personal summons, which is the same thing. Bail was not home, and the
message was hand-written, delivered by a man in Imperial uniform. The door
slipped shut, Sabe` handed the sheet of plasi-paper to me without even
looking at it, though she must have been thinking the same as I.
This is it, I thought.
I unfolded it, held it up to the light, viewed the inky black words with
trepidation.
"What does it say?" Sabe`'s voice, risen to a pitch of fear I'd never heard
before. I had turned away from her without meaning to, sat down heavily on
the window seat. Through the doorway, I could see Leia sitting on the floor
in the kitchen, looking at her prisms. She had less enthusiasm for them, now
that Luke was gone. I shook my head, turned to look out at the gray sky. I
felt Sabe` take the plasi-paper from my hands, and I let her. Moments later,
I felt her embrace me, but for all I was worth I simply could not return it.
Apathy seeped into my bones, I raised my eyes to hers, hoping she
understood. She seemed to.
I was still sitting there, when Bail come home. Leia had crawled over to
me, was playing with the sash of my nightdress. It had been morning when the
summons arrived, now it was evening. I hadn't moved all day.
Bail said, harshly, "Come away from the window." I did not answer. I'm not
even sure I heard him, he might have told me he said that. "Amidala, someone
is going to see you!"
"It doesn't matter," I said, as if I myself couldn't quite believe it. I
heard, rather than saw, him approach me, reach down and pick up the
plasi-paper. He read it out loud- he didn't mean to be heartless.
"Senator Amidala of the Naboo will have audience with His Majesty at twenty
hundred tomorrow evening." Simplistic, deadly, as most things are. At least
Palpatine didn't word it as if I had a choice. I heard the plasi-paper being
crumbled, but it sounded like a window being broken, in my own ears. I did
not look at Bail- he would be angry, or upset, I knew him well enough.
"Ami-", I looked up sharply, and he finished the name. All of it. I did not
let it pass that he had tried to use it, though, your name for me. For a
moment we looked at each other; Bail stubborn, myself hurting, Leia in
between- oblivious. How grateful I am that she was so young then. Even if it
means she will not remember me.
I felt something fall into my lap. Bail had knelt beside me, put his arms
around my waist, his head in my lap. It seemed to numb the lower part of my
body. I felt removed. I looked down without moving my head, saw Bail gazing
up at me. It came to me that he wasn't staring at me, but at my wedding
ring, suspended between my breasts by a small gold chain. The nightgown was
cut low enough; blue silk, with gold fret work. It had been a wedding
present. I moved my hand up, felt my fingers brush the small gold ring. A
circle. It was supposed it symbolize continuity. It was supposed to mean
something that doesn't end. I had taken it off my finger, but I wasn't able
to get rid of it, either. They'd started telling me things about you,
horrible things. They were true, I knew that much. There was no denying it.
I hadn't seen you yet, though. Or whatever it is that pretends to be you.
I said, "He will be there."
"The Emperor..." Bail began.
"No," I looked away again, disappointed. So far, Bail and I had been able
to work our friendship around this. I said it again, "He will be there." A
sigh, the weight removed from my lap, arms pulling away. Bail sat back,
slightly away from me, on the floor. I looked down to the place he had been,
imagining you there instead. The image was not hard to conjure, I had
memories to back it up. I envisioned you, as I still do now, as you were in
the time before. Brown-blond hair chopped off just bellow the ears, bright
blue eyes, a small scar on you chin from one mission or another. I have
stopped you at this age, so that I will not have to think about what comes
after.
The feeling came back into my legs, so I stood, and Leia clamored to be
picked up. I held her in my arms, let her lean against me. She thrust her
thumb in her mouth and her free hand into my hair, closed her eyes
contentedly. Bail too, was standing, waiting for me to move.
"You shouldn't go," he said at last.
"How can I not?" I began to pace, glancing up on occasion.
"We can smuggle you out," his words were coming quickly, his eyes following
my movement, "A group of politicals are leaving tonight, you could go with
them."
"And jeopardize their safety?" I asked, my voice tight. Mon Mothma had
taken great care to cover the mission, but my presence would act like a
beacon. Mind blocks or no mindblocks, I knew you would be able to find me,
if you really wanted to. You were simply waiting. As long as you knew where
I was, you could do things in your own sweet time. The Emperor must have
forced your hand at something, then.
"I'll take care of it," Bail snapped, which meant; "I'm going to do it
anyway." He continued, "You can get sanctuary on Alderaan, I'll arrange it
myself. We should have done this earlier. I don't know why you insisted on
staying here." He moved towards the computer, as if he intended to take of
all the arrangements in one foul swoop.
"He'll come after me," my voice was quiet, but it carried. I was working on
logic only now, my emotions had been severed. Like a limb, laying on the
floor in a pool of blood. Amputated.
I had Bail's full attention. He knew that what I was saying was true. You
would come after me, there was prior evidence to back it up. It was always
like that between Bail and I, everything needed proof, reference, like the
essays of my youth.
"Then we can..."
"You can't stop me from going." The two sounds overlapped, became one
noise. I sat down on the sculpted white couch- all Alderaanian furniture is
sculpted, fluid- shifting Leia's weight in my arms. She had fallen asleep at
one point, the pacing motion must have soothed her. Tomorrow, I would see
you. I heard my heart beating, pumping blood; open, close, open, close. I
didn't know what to expect. Bail came, took the seat beside me, put his hand
over mine.
He said, "I'll take care of Leia."
I said, "I can put her to bed."
That's not what he meant.
Bail was very fond of Leia. There were times I would wake up from my naps
(I had stopped sleeping through the night, and inside spaced out my rest
throughout the day) to find him playing with her, or reading her a story,
teaching her a new way to stack the prisms. He had already adopted her, or
allowed her to adopt him. Leia was an affectionate baby, but she made an
attachment to Bail that was different from her relationship with my other
friends, the other people in her life. I am glad, now, that I have always
thought Bail would make a good father. He will protect Leia, if it becomes
necessary, when the time comes. We were passing her off as the daughter of
his secretary, who'd died in one of the riots. There were a lot of riots,
that's how hot things were. The public areas were unsafe, even during the
day. Palpatine may have cemented his political power, but the public was
another matter altogether. It always has been. We had the birth certificate
made- Leia's, she hadn't had one previously- almost right away. The
Rebellion had already seeped into the ranks of the Empire, though we were
careful to make sure that they stayed where they were. Bail adopted her
immediately, and planned to send her back to Alderaan when... when...
Well, just when. That was where the conversation ended. Always.
Maybe Bail expected me to marry him, at some future date, so that I could
stay with Leia, though now I find it difficult to believe he could have
faith in such a thing. I could not have married him, it would have been a
sham, even if it was only for Leia's sake. Also, it would have given Bail an
excuse, and I had thus far denied him such toeholds. There was a push and
shove between us, over such things. It occurs to me now that I expected him
to betray me as well.
I also didn't expect to live very long, anyway.
I dressed in black, the next morning, calmly, without tears, or a smile, or
anything at all. I fastened the mourning veil in my hair, but pulled it away
from my face. Double symbolism, I would let you take that as you wanted to,
or not at all. Sabe` helped me do my makeup, the china-doll face, the
irregular shape of the lips. I was dressed conservatively, without ornament,
but I was walking in as Queen. Looking back on it, I realize how strange
that ritual was. How often does the corpse dress itself for the funeral?
Sabe` said nothing to me, but she did kiss me on either cheek. Her lips
came away white, but that may have just been the make-up. I whirled swiftly
on my heel, let my hands rest on the cool wood of Leia's crib. It was oddly
reminiscent, I remembered when Luke was taken. Leaning over the crib, I
brushed my fingers over Leia's small mane of hair, gazed into her brown
eyes. They were mirrors of my own, those eyes, and wide awake. My wedding
ring, still suspended on its chain, dangled over Leia. It caught the light,
glimmered, and Leia reached for it, batting at it with her small fingers. I
kissed her, told her I loved her, and left. After that, I don't know what
happened. For her anyway.
You know what happened- for me. For us.
That's a strange thing to say, now.
I wonder where my wedding ring is, because when I woke up here, it was
gone.