Chapter 5
"My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain Sickly appetite to please."
William Shakespeare
(Full poem included below)
I've been drifting in and out of consciousness for some time. Dreams and memories haunt me, both waking and sleeping. There is no refuge for me anymore.
Refuge... I carefully lean over the edge, testing with my fingers to see how far the water has risen. It's higher than I expected. Only a few inches more, and my little sanctuary will be submerged. It won't be long now.
My thoughts turn to my children, something I rarely allow myself. It's just too painful. I can't describe how deeply this particular wound aches. In many ways my children are still just bright figures to me, possibilities.
When I was pregnant, I used to imagine what my child would be like. Something, I suppose, most mothers do. It's an incredible feeling, knowing that you have a life growing inside you. Sometimes, during the early stages, you can't even believe it; it's surreal. Later, when your body starts to change, it becomes more real. But all doubts and disbelief fade the first time you feel the baby move inside you. Even then, the baby is still just a bright possibility- something that could be, something you can imagine and dream. Inside your mind, the child you carry can be anything. That all changes in the moment of birth.
The moment I held them, all possibilities vanished. They were real and solid, their small bodies curled into mine. I loved them in that moment, madly, desperately. I loved them for themselves, my Luke and Leia. I also loved them for what they symbolized. They carried a hope for the future, pieces of both Anakin and myself.
They were so beautiful, my heart aches just thinking about them. There is no end to the love a mother has for her children, and no way to measure it. When Obi-wan came to take them away, it nearly killed me. I knew they had to go, but I wanted so desperately to hold them just a little longer, to hold them forever.
I could see the guilt and sorrow on his face when he took them from my arms. It's terrible of me, but I was glad. 'Good,' I thought. He deserved to feel guilty for taking my babies from me. When he left the room, holding his precious burden, he took the light with him and tore out my heart. I cried for days after they left. I wept until I had no more tears inside of me, and I was left hollow and wanting. I hated Anakin then, and in that dark moment I could have easily killed him.
Now sanity has returned, somewhat.
I don't hate Anakin. He is a part of me, and how can you hate your own heart? No, I don't hate Anakin. I hate Darth Vader. He is the machine that has swallowed my husband. Maybe I am blind, refusing to see the taint of darkness on the man I love. It is so much easier to create another in his place, to foot the blame of his dark fate.
My mind wanders at times, and things I had thought long forgotten pop into my mind, unannounced. This is one of those times. I can remember a poem I had to memorize when I was a young girl. Nubians take the arts very seriously. An appreciation for the arts is taught as strenuously as mathematics, or languages. My teeth chatter slightly as I force my numb lips to form the words so long forgotten.
My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain Sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his Prescriptions are not kept,
Hath Left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts my discourse as madmen's are,
At random from the truth, vainly expressed:
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art black as hell, and dark as night.
Alright, I am crazy. I'm sitting here in the freezing cold, reciting poetry. By the stars, I swear I've truly lost it. Ah, well- it keeps my mind off of my impending doom, at least.' Doom.' I mouth the word silently; it tickles my tongue oddly to say it.
I raise my arms over my head, stretching my back and wiggling my stiff fingers. In the darkness I can just make out the whiteness of my hands. I slowly lower one hand until it's inches from my eyes.
Is that my hand? It's thin and pale, looking almost skeletal in the darkness. Maybe I'm already dead, and I'm really just a ghost. This train of thought is interrupted by the cold rush of water as it begins to slowly rise up over my small ledge. This is not what frightens me. What frightens me is that I can barely feel it.
I was walking through the snow, each step I took a great effort, as I slowly moved through the giant drifts. Far in the horizon I could see a dark figure, and I knew it was Anakin. A terrible urgency overtook me, and I knew that I had to get to him before it was too late. Too late for what, I do not know. I hurried my steps, but as I tried to move toward him, the skies opened up and snow began to fall, fast and heavy. It was so white I couldn't see much of anything, except a dark shape far in the distance. The snow poured down heavier and heavier until I couldn't see in front of me anymore, and the snow beneath my feet got deeper and deeper.
Still I moved on. The wind tore at my clothing, chilling me to the bone. I could hear the cry in the wind, "Go back now. You will not succeed!"
Still, I moved forward as the sky grew dark and black as pitch, the snow a white stain against this dark backdrop.
Still I moved forward, slowly, torturously forcing my legs to make each slow step.
Then the dark sky was rent with a terrible blood-curdling scream, and the snow was no longer white. The skies wept frozen tears of blood, and they stained the once white snow, until I was no longer wading in snow but a freezing river of blood. A current started to pull at my legs, pulling me under and I felt myself sinking.
Tears coursed down my cheeks as I realized I couldn't reach him, that I had failed. As the river of red closed over my head, a gloved hand shot into the river, gripping mine, and for a moment, I was not alone.
I wake from the blackness once again, to find the water is at my waist and I am so numb that I don't even really feel cold anymore, just this endless, bone deep ache. The aching of my body mirrors the aching in my heart so closely, that I can almost feel the steady thrum of the dual pains; coursing together, beat by beat.
The water has risen several inches; it is just touching my shoulders now. I really don't care anymore. In a way I am welcoming death. At first I was afraid, and angry, but now... now, I am more resigned. Now, I welcome the peaceful abyss, the refuge from the things that haunt me. I just want it to be over. I want the nightmare to end.
I found myself lying in the bed of my apartment on Coruscant, warm and safe. But as two strong arms wrapped around me, I knew it was a dream.
A sense of contentment surrounded me as I lay safely ensconced in my husband's arms. He always made me feel incredibly safe, and yet filled me with a feeling of excitement at the same time. I looked up at him, the welcoming smile on my face changing to one of horror as his warm blue eyes turned a harsh yellow. Then, we were back on Mustafar once again, and I could see the dark look of rage on his face. I watched, as I have many times before, as he made his offer. This time there is no Obi-Wan to interfere. We were alone. The scene faded around us, leaving us alone in the darkness. Alone ,with his offer hanging between us. He extended his hand towards me and I watch in horrified fascination as it blackened, and became encased in dark leather. I looked up to his face, and it was covered by the mask of Vader. As I watched, his face went through several transformations,;the boy he once was, Anakin as he was when we married, Anakin during the clone wars, Anakin when we were reunited,Anakin with his face contorted in black rage and, finally, back to the mask that he has become. Still, through it all, he is still Anakin. This one fact never changed, and in that moment I knew I had made my choice.
I awake with a gasp, as my eyes flutter, desperately trying to reconcile the images they see with the ones that haunt my mind. For a moment, I think I see Vader standing before me, but as the dream fades I realize it is just my imagination. There is no one there. I am still alone.
My last dream plagues me incessantly. What does it mean? What would I have done if the dream continued? Or even better, what would I do now if Vader were standing before me, making his offer once again? The problem is, I do not know what would have happened if Obi-Wan had not showed up when he did. To this day, I do not now how that nightmare might have ended, had things been different. But that is irrelevant. I can't change the past. The question is, if Vader was here, now, what would Ido? Would I take to opportunity to be with my husband again, to be with my children again? Would I trade my beliefs and convictions for the family my heart yearns for? Or would I once again martyr my heart and let my mind rule my actions?
The problem is, I really don't know. Time has a way of softening convictions. Things that you once believed you could never accept, slowly grow on you. Things you once viewed as abhorrent, lose their edge with time. Then there are some things that never change, some things that you can never forget.
The water has reached my neck, and I can't bear to sit here any longer. I slowly, torturously push myself to my feet. One step, two, and I'm off the ledge, gasping for air as I desperately move my numb limbs. The cold is stabbing into me like a million prickling needles, and I carefully lean back and allow my body to float on the water's surface. I close my eyes, and I'm on Naboo again, swimming in the cool water of the lake. Here I am no longer a woman, but a child, free in the realms of my mind, free of the chains that bind me.
I can barely breathe, and darkness is edging in on my vision. I'm not cold anymore, the only thing I feel is a semi-pleasant lethargy. I know that my time is quickly coming to an end. It all sails by me once again, sorrows and joys, laughter, and tears, triumphs and failures-moments of pride, and memories of regret.
One last, sharp regret pierces the haze surrounding me. Anakin.
I never got to say goodbye. I can feel my last silent tears trickling down my cheeks. He is not here to hear me, but I whisper it still. Maybe my heart will cry to his and he will know. My lips are too numb, even to say my last goodbye, and all I can manage is the cry in my heart.
"Ani..."
My last silent plea leaves me, and I can feel the cold darkness sinking in on me once again, and I am drowning, sinking, sinking...