So, I think there is some smut due. Sorry kiddies, the next chapter may just bump this up to M.
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Yoda watched silently as Anakin poured his love unto Padme, cradling her from behind; supporting her delivery posture in his arms and against his chest. Yoda could almost grasp within his fingers the ardor of the reverence Anakin emanated, it was so fervent.
Tears cleansed Anakin's face of the impurities of the past. The current softness of his expression would so easily delude his recent crimes. But one must recognize, his catalyst was was the woman he held in his arms; his actions were deliberate- to save her.
Yoda, however, knew that there were more incentives to Anakin's fall from grace. It was devastating, but it must not be ignored.
One cause was the power and freedom promised by the dark side. Too long had Anakin felt squeezed, oppressed, belittled. Always, since becoming a Jedi, he had faced a constant wind, blowing against him, of doubt and criticism. He felt patronized, marginalized... and yet he was expected to conform to the expectations of the prophesied figure of the "Chosen One". But he was offered so little support, guidance, approval, or satisfaction... no, he did not even feel accepted. He felt wrong, and wronged. He did not know how to do what was expected of him, and what he attempted was never adequate in the eyes of his mentors.
But Palpatine... Palpatine offered him everything he wanted and more, including respect... even admiration, which was what Anakin longed for, more than anything, except for love.
Only Obi-Wan and Padme gave him love. And still, in the end, Anakin hurt them.
Yoda saw this: Anakin had now exhibited himself as the most powerful being in the galaxy. And he had a tendency to the dark side... He should not be allowed to live, not after the having executed the atrocities he had. He was too volatile; the destruction he had committed was a monsoon, though he was capable of hurricanes. He had burned the temple, but he could easily go on to threaten Courasant and much of the inner rim.
The small percentage of the Jedi remaining could not be threatened by his presence.
But Yoda could not will himself to act. He could not bear to separate this reunited family before him, knowing what he did.
Anakin had fulfilled his purpose as the Chosen One He had destroydr the Sith lord. And he had also done that which he had personally set out to do: Padme had just completed a healthy birth. There were no physical complications.
And this man, this frightening, heavy, obscure, metallic human that had exuded so much force power it weighed and pushed at all force sensitives that encountered him to points of discomfort... Now he was sweet and hot, beaming with radiant color and gentle vibrations as he held Padme.
Yoda could not ignore this.
Most of the rest of the council had been demolished. The decision was Yoda's to make.
If Anakin was stripped of his position of a Jedi then he would be stripped somewhat of his capabilities. More-so he may also be stripped of his incentive. And there was no longer any Sith master: the pathway to the dark side was broken. Regardless of whether Anakin had destroyed Sidious, regardless of his accomplishments of talents, Anakin was not experienece enough in the ways of the force to rebuild the path to the dark side. Not alone.
Anakin was truly lost.
Yoda would leave him at that.
As for Obi-Wan, he had already anticipated Yoda's decision. But he realized that he must remain part of Anakin's life: to anchor him, to provide him with the reality of love (though love was forbidden for the Jedi, all members of this party recognized that Anakin was not a normal Jedi, and Obi-Wan could not prevent himself from loving him according to the conditions of Anakin's being). Perhaps Obi-Wan's attentive presence could act as a barrier to prevent Anakin form drifting back into a state of vulnerability, of ambition, or unchecked power. Regardless, he would be there, as a friend, as much as he could.
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Padme survived her delivery, as did both of the twins. They slept within incubators in the room where Padme rested, with Anakin sitting at her side.
Yoda came to wish them goodbye.
"But... what about me?" Dread could not be withheld from Anakin's statement .And guilt. It was obvious that he suffered as he asked it.
"Afraid, I am. And sad, very sad. But love, I see in you. That this is enough, I hope. Enough that abandoned you can be."
Abandoned... the word was a blade. It pierced Anakin... but it also provided him with an opportunity to open a path to freedom. To abandon expectation, commitment, restraint. He would be free to live on, alone, with Padme and his children.
But his power... what would become of his power?
Anakin locked gazes with Yoda. He sought the answer within himself, but also within the master before him. He could not find an answer. He did not know what he would do with his ability... but he found one small stone of truth within him, gleaming: He did not want his abilities. He only wanted to live, a simple life, free of the responsibilities of the Jedi, free of the burden of the force. He had tasted power, and it disgusted him. The murder... there was no pleasure in that. The was no pleasure in the subjugation of others to his will or action. He wanted none of that any longer. He wanted nothing of his former life... of the Jedi way, the code, the politics of the republic, the fighting of the war.
But Anakin did want one thing: his family.
And he wanted a future.
Anakin looked at Padme. Perhaps this future would be in the lake country of Naboo.
Yoda would accept this. The seclusion would be an assistant in subduing Anakin's ambition. And his children would occupy him, as a distraction.
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Yoda met with Obi-Wan outside of the medical center, at the docking bay. He regarded the human silently, a sad smile on his lips.
"You don't trust him do you." Obi-Wan asked, delicately, but with a sheen of guilt- as if he knew that the answer to a question was obvious, and he futilely was trying to doubt it."
"Trust him, I never will."
Obi-Wan nodded, consenting.
Yoda But Yoda pardoned Obi-Wan his attachment, his weakness in wanting to protect Anakin's welfare. He was aware of the potency of human emotion, and the incapability of humans to fully constrain it. Anakin and Obi-Wan had a bond based on mutual mourning of the death of a father figure, Qui-Gon, which only intensified and enhanced the familial-like relationship they shared as a master and Padawan. More-so, Obi-Wan had become, in turn, the father that Anakin had always desired. Anakin's subsequent, loaded attachment to Obi-Wan would cause the older, compassionate man to reciprocate, it being only in his nature. Regardless of the horrors Anakin may have wrought, Yoda knew to expect Obi-Wan to seek to shelter Anakin in hopes that he may eventually find redemption; Obi-Wan would not stand to forsake his son, his brother, if not absolutely necessary.
"But, with vigilance, offer him a chance to continue living, we should."
Obi-Wan raised his brow, hope surfacing onto the planes of his face. Yoda... compassionate Yoda. Master Windu, as well as almost the rest of the council, would never have agreed to such a dangerous choice. No, not when such a destructive force was involved. Regardless of whether the volcano appeared dormant, they would have always remain cautiously expectant that it may become active once more...
"If willing, you are, to watch him, the responsibility of his life I will give to you."
This was a burden. The weight of the responsibility was so heavy. Obi-Wan was more than aware of the consequences posed by Anakin's continued existence. And to be the one responsible for those consequences left him suspended under the weight of the galaxy. But there was another angle to this... perhaps Anakin had been beaten in their duel on Mustafar... but not entirely, and only because Anakin had overestimated his ability in a dismal situation. But in normal circumstances, how could Anakin, the volcano, truly be defeated? And how many would it take to shut him down?
And what of his love?
Anakin's fall to the dark side had been due in part to his ambition, yes. But his actions whilst under its influence had been enacted only to protect the one he loved. The predator protecting his kin, however, had fulfilled its purpose; Anakin was by his healthy wife's side, with his breathing, smiling children within arms reach. His lethal intentions had been purged of him within his tears that had stripped his cheeks of the film of smoke.
Now, with his mission accomplished, Anakin was free. More-so, he was free to love openly, knowing that he had torn himself from the Jedi-Order.
Perhaps, so long as those he loved would remain safe, and there was no Sith lord to corrupt him once more, Anakin;would never fall again.
And, most importantly, that he had returned is the greatest source of hope possible. Yes, Anakin had returned. Whether he had made up his mind to do so, or merely fell back onto the light side like he had on the dark was perhaps irrelevant. Anakin had returned.
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They ignored the universe that erupted violently around them.
They hid within the white house of stone and glass, shrouded in the emptiness of the lake country of Naboo. Anakin, Padme and their children had shielded themselves in secret, stifling themselves in oblivion from a galaxy that remembered the Sith traitor with frantic, absolute fear.
Anakin and Padme's children slept on the other side of the tall, white wall. They were safe, and healthy. As was Padme. She was alive, and well.
Currently she dreamed-her body pressed against Anakin's-of their future safety and the uncertainty of the life they faced.
Obi-Wan and Yoda had promised them maintenance of their secret. It was to be told that both the Senator and The Chosen One had been lost. It was to be implied that they had died. Nothing was to be said of their marriage, or their children. Accordingly, the roles of the politician and the Jedi had ceased to exist. Padme chose to bury this role in the grave where Anakin had already cast his.
She did not want this. It was excruciating to recognize the collapse of Senator Padme Amidala. But worse was the implosion of Knight Skywalker.
And it was terrifying to know that she was his wife, that she was sleeping in his arms. But she had reconciled herself to that.
She had never loved him like he did her. She was secure; her mind was temperate. But she had so fallen in love with how he had loved her. She loved how he laid himself before her, exhibiting each aspect of his mind in displays decorated with adoration and trust. He had converted himself into something she could swallow and bear like the children once in her womb. He sought absolute protection and nourishment from her.
And, being in love, compassionate, and innately nurturing, she welcomed him. She realized that she was the center of his gravity, holding him together.
She came to despise that, softly, almost unconsciously, but knew nothing could now be done. So she smothered her apprehensions in her love for him.
She prayed that she could hold him intact. Her beautiful, brilliant husband. A man who loved so much as him, who had never lost the soul of the child she had met on Tatooine, was magnificent, incomparable to even that of Obi-Wan, the most marvelous moral being she had ever encountered. Anakin, beneath the layers of armor donned in war, was the morning bird whose song gave rhythm to her heart-beat and breathed into her what she breathed out as laughter.
But he was also the raptor, talon and beak, sense and speed and cunning. He had annihilated so much of the Jedi body, the family of which he was a member.. He had become a monster that self-mutilated the paragon he should have been.
But he was still Anakin. He had not been transformed absolutely. Only adulterated. And he did it for her.
She could not deny him the cause for his abominations- it was always for her. She pitied him. And though she could not forgive him, she understood. A man, inhumane like he, was not like her or Obi-Wan or Yoda. He was something much more extreme. All of him, driven by his extreme connection to the force, was amplified beyond normality. Was he did was exemplary of this abnormality. And he could certainly do more of such.
So she received his return for both his sake and for the sake of all the others that could perish from his potential, desolate wrath.
And so, absolved they fled into seclusion. To bathe and heal in the pure light of Naboo. To mourn the dead Jedi in the death-place of the wonderful Qui-Gon Jinn. And to plant their family, in the place they had dreamt about so much before.
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He woke behind her, his hand by instinct traveling to her sunken, reshaped abdomen. Her simple, radiant beauty and wellness has sustained. It had been weeks since they had come. Anakin had been mostly silent, except for when he cradled and cooed or sang to his children. They breathed fresh, new life into him, and with the assistance of Padme's welcoming ear, he had begun to purge himself of all the darkness that had tainted him, forcing it from him by the replacements of light and love.
Dawn prepared to come. The sun lingered below the horizon, but its song preluded it in the music of the birds and the insects that heralded it.
He could see her features in the half light, his angel. And now he lay with her on her homeland, not the moons of Lego, which he expected that she had come from, but Naboo, where she had been the child queen.
And she was, in fact, his angel; she had saved a monstrosity from destruction, of both himself and the worlds around him.
She rolled, pressing her front into him; seeking the arch of his neck in which to nestle her face.
For a man who was capable of such horror, he was so many times more good. She allowed the goodness in him to excuse the bad. She would try to suffocate her memory of the bad with the good, and to help him do the same with the mutual pursuit of tenderness.
He kissed her forehead, and left his lips there on the porcelain skin; he couldn't stand to break the connection.
She smelt like rain.
And he smelt like soil; like basalt.
They had spent most of their time here outside, in the green fields and forests. The children were beautiful and well behaved; Luke never cried and Leia was easily satisfied of her troubles by her doting, obsessively so, father. Their presence reassured Anakin of his humanity. When with them he felt whole. Never in their lifetime had he committed an act he would regret, so they were innocent figures born into an environment of absolute purity, and he saw a reflection of this shining onto himself.
His children were the stars and the moon, and Padme was his sun; blinding him with acceptance and love.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him, shifting her weight as to press tighter into him, twisting herself into his crevices of tight muscle and reaching up to twist her fingers into the careless, childish curls of his hair (interesting how his once straight hair had tucked in on itself through the years, as if rolling up into a defeated position, worn of the endeavors the body underwent). She rolled her slender fingers along a curl, appreciating the softness that has remained part of her scarred lover.
His eyelids draw back to reveal blue beryl irises. A smile spread unto his lips the moment he saw her, his embrace around her tightening instinctively (at night he sometimes her with such intense constriction she would have to wake him to end the pain). She wriggled within his arms, playfully. Her youth still lingered within her, she would employ the levity of a child to charm and humor him- to bring him happiness, which he knew so scarcely these days. It was as if he were afraid to be happy- afraid of himself, and afraid that he deserved to never be happy again. She had bawled over the same idea herself... her husband had been a sith, and had murdered more jedi in one night than any sith had done in his or her lifetime. But he was still Anakin, she would assert to herself, and he did it for me. Not for the power. He killed to keep others alive...
"How are you?" she asked.
He smiled, but did not speak. He chose to remain quiet these days, for fear of hearing the darkness in his own voice that he had suspected in the weeks leading up to his fall. He did not expect to turn again anytime soon, but the memory left a taste in his mouth that would not go away, and he was afraid of it like a child afraid of the dark. As a response, he kissed her lips, tracing feathered lines across her eyebrow and temple with his finger as he did so. She responded to the kiss softly, allowing it to flow unhurried like calm water.
"I am with you, Padme. I am very well."
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