Anakin sat hunched at the rough table, fiddling with his mug of caffe. Watching the HoloNet feed in the upper corner of the cantina, he absent-mindedly traced the scar that split the skin above and below his right eye. Feeling the tingle in the damaged tissue made him think back to a lush green planet… a temple… the Dark Side.
He shook his head once, violently, to clear the thought, and wondered if all would work out according to plan today. He was no longer a Sith, but not a Jedi – he felt that he had transcended such names. He was beyond both; he no longer had to rely solely on anger for strength, yet he did not deny himself the darker emotions.
Sith – Jedi. Neither.
It was painful, he thought, to leave behind something he had grown up under, the Jedi Order. Difficult. But not so much now; he'd seen the truth, the light in things. Part of what Palpatine had told him had been true: the Force was simply the Force, neither Dark nor Light, just a continuing grayscale. All power was now within his grasp. There was no black and white in the Force. There was just him. Gray.
This plan… years in the making. Years. He thought back, considering the… the betrayal. After all he'd done, all he had accomplished for the Jedi, ending the Clone Wars, stopping the senseless violence, and Obi-Wan had said, "I'm sorry, but you're still a Sith, Anakin. And Sith and Jedi do not mix."
Anakin would have killed Obi-Wan right then and there, if he hadn't been completely outnumbered as well as in utter shock. Yoda had been standing there, relaxed but cautious, that little green body ready to move instantly. Bail Organa had been there, mouth agape, hand reaching for his blaster pistol. Then, Obi-Wan again:
"I think it would be best if we… parted ways, Anakin."
"What about my child? What about Padme?"
The unfathomable look, the unfathomable thought, the unfathomable horror, coming from the lips of the man who was once his best friend:
"I'm sorry, Anakin."
Tears filled the corners of Skywalker's eyes, and he vowed again that he would find vengeance.
Padme nuzzled Leia fondly, and the little girl giggled. "Off to Master Yoda with you, now," she murmured, laughing gently. The girl bobbed her head solemnly. "Yes, mama," and was off.
So like her father, she thought, and a pang of grief touched her. Dead. Never to return. Those were the words Obi-Wan had used. Momentary grief distracted her, then she turned back to reality, smiling wanly as little Leia danced away.
Padme felt old and tired, wrung out like a wet cloth, hardened from lack of use. Long, horrible years, life without her life, life under this Empire, hiding, always hiding, hunted like a pack of womprats.
It seemed impossible that she had been hiding in this underground bunker for three years. Just not possible. Living with Yoda, C-3PO, Leia, a host of bodyguards. Leia was already becoming adept in the Force, carrying her own little training saber around as Yoda taught her to use it, playful, imaginary duels with evil but ineffective villains, life always clear-cut, black and white.
If only reality were that way, the erstwhile Senator thought as she sat down heavily at her desk, picking up a holopad. I used to think that way, didn't I? We both did. Visions of love and heroism, good always winning. Poor Anakin.
Anakin.
Boba Fett peered through the macrobinoculars with an annoyed look. He was being well paid for this job, but blast it, nothing was worth this utter boredom. He ought to be going in there right now, guns blazing, just blast the flaming place into ash, shoot 'em all, get the packages, get out. Simple, straightforward. Mandalorian. But the Hooded Man said that it wasn't that easy, that there mustn't be any 'collateral damage'. Well, by the seven Corellian hells! Somebody's gonna die. Isn't going to be me.
The Hooded Man. Fett had been working for this man for a year now, still didn't know his name. Never even saw his face; the guy almost always wore a half-mask of black armorweave, eyes shadowed. Not good business, he thought, not knowing your employer. Might anger some higher-ups, get your miserable tail chased halfway across the galaxy.
Suddenly, he saw it, even with the unaided eye, the signal. There was the man, dressed like the locals, didn't have the mask, but had on an off-white armorweave cloak, hood up. The bright flash, the mirror, and he quickly responded with his own. The affirming nod, and they both moved, Fett across the rooftops, the Hooded Man through the street, headed toward the queen's residence.
Yoda smiled and shifted a little as Leia slowly began to levitate, floating, feeling now, that little four-year-old body and mind, so innocent, so pure, a fountain of light, not a single shadow within her. He had been a Jedi Master for centuries, and there was nothing he loved more than training a youngling. Yoda was convinced that children were gifts from the Force, little sparkling Corusca gems, waiting to be purified, all smiles and laughter.
A toy, a little doll dressed in Coruscant reds began to float now, hovering near Leia, revolving around her. It was followed by a holo-reader, the accompanying stylus, then a little red ball, and now she was in the halo of clarity, the perfection.
Yoda could feel it now too, felt that they were making progress today. The Force had never been so strong with Leia, so light, pristine, like the lakes of Naboo. He reveled in the strong but gentle presence, worshipped the Force, surrendering to its will all over again, and he felt alive, alive like never before…
…and suddenly, he was rocked by an intrusion, a moving shadow in the Force, like a projection, somewhere here in this city. Darkness. No, that was not right. More like a twilight. A dying sun. A malevolent will, with loving motives. A dichotomy. Danger.
Yoda's eyes snapped open and he stood.
Anakin Skywalker was on Alderaan.