Chapter 7
"Vengeance, deep-brooding o'er the slain, Had locked the source of softer woe, And burning pride and high disdain Forbade the rising tear to flow"
Sir Walter Scott
Vader stood in the brightly lit medical bay, silently staring at the still figure that lay before him.
Her face was pale and gaunt, dark circles framing her eyes. The still, white hands, so carefully folded, lay across her abdomen. She had always been small, but now her arms were incredibly thin, making her look infinitely fragile. He felt that if he touched her, she would shatter and fade away. Her time spent in that hell had not been kind to her. But to him, she was still the most beautiful woman in the galaxy.
He moved slowly forward, noting the various marks that marred her once smooth skin. All of this was irrelevant however, mattering little in comparison to the one fact that swamped him with emotion; she was breathing. Slow, and shallow, but steady. She was alive, and she would survive.
Vader glanced up, finally noticing the presence of the medical technician.
"Lord Vader." The man bowed politely, waiting for the Dark Lord to acknowledge him.
Vader nodded curtly. "What is her condition?"
"As you can see, Milord, her condition has stabilized. She is breathing normally, and her heart is weak, but steady. There is every likelihood that she will make a full recovery, with only a few side affects of her...illness."
Vader ignored the unspoken question that accompanied the word 'illness'. He instead asked one of his own. "When will she awaken?"
"That is difficult to say. It could be days or hours. It's difficult to judge when dealing with this sort of extreme trauma. When she first wakes up, she will likely be very weak and disoriented. This will pass in time. She should be able to leave the medical bay within a day or so of her awakening. Provided, of course, that she is supplied with appropriate care. I have detailed all of this in my report."
"Very well. Leave us," Vader ordered brusquely, as he took the small datapad from the technician.
After the technician had left, Vader folded himself into the room's sole chair, and simply watched Padme sleep. The technician had said that it would likely be some time before she woke. He still had no idea what was going to happen when she did. The last time she had seen him, he was whole and she had still refused him. What chance did he have of convincing her to stay with him now?
The long hours of his vigil flowed together. He had left orders that he was not to be disturbed, preferring to be alone with his thoughts, alone with his angel.
'What am I going to do now?' That one question underlaid everything. Repeating again and again in his mind, the conflict raged inside him.
In one way, Padme's reappearance changed everything. But then again, nothing had changed. He was still a Sith, still immersed in the darkness that tore at his very soul. He did not believe that she had changed so very much that she would forgive this easily. She wouldn't tolerate the dark taint in him. In a way, he could not even blame her for this. The part of him that was still Anakin hated himself, loathed what he had become. The darker part reveled in it, reveled in the fight that was sure to come.
The same darkness surrounded him, whispering tauntingly in his ear, reminding him of what he was. The conflict inside him was for nothing. He could not be redeemed. There was no choice; he had fallen to far to ever be free.
Yet, at the same time, he wanted that same freedom desperately. He wanted to be the man he once was, the man Padme had believed him to be. He could remember how she had looked at him- like he was someone special, like he was someone worth loving, like he was a hero.
That image was swiftly replaced with how she had looked at him on Mustafar. So many emotions had flickered across her face, all of them painful. Disbelief, horror, fear, betrayal, grief... the hero had fallen.
The one thing he had sought to preserve, the one person he needed above all others, and he had lost her.
He felt her slipping away from him, the once strong threads of their bond slipping from his grasp one by one. Perhaps he had known, had really been grasping desperately at the threads, for some time.
He was already on the edge of the precipice and Obi-wan's appearance pushed him over. The dark emotions swamped him until he was drowning in them. Feelings of jealousy and betrayal blinded him with a dark rage.
He lashed out, instinctively attacking the source of his pain. The moment he realized what he was doing, he had released her.
But by then it was to late. The last fragile threads of their bond were broken, destroyed in a moment of blind rage.
Of all the regrets he held inside himself, that was the one thing he regretted most of all. He regretted hurting her with every fiber of his being. In all of the time he had known her, had loved her, he had never, never lifted a hand against her. The man he had been would have died before allowing any harm to come to her.
In a way, he had.
Confusion clouded his mind. The clarity that had accompanied him in the moments after Padme's discovery had abandoned him, leaving him to founder in the chaotic well of thoughts and feelings that filled him. Varying feelings and thoughts attacking him from every side.
Light and dark. Dark and light. And always grey.
After so many years without her, he was like a man starved, glutting himself in her presence. It was like being able to breathe again. But at the same time, waiting for to awaken was like a dual-edged sword. He longed to talk to her, to hear the sound of her voice. He ached to touch her, to hold her in his arms. He wanted to protect her and cradle her close to his heart. And, at the same time, he wanted to lay his head on her breast and weep like a child.
But the darkness that dwelled inside of him was not to be ignored. It whispered taunting reminders of all that had occurred, tormenting him with painful memories and fears. The darkness had twisted the purity of his love for her into something dark and violent. Possession and desire merged with need.
It didn't matter whether she wanted to stay with him or not. She was his wife. His. He would not, could not let her go.