Chapter 13

"The consequences of our crimes long survive their commission, and, like the ghosts of the murdered, forever haunt the steps of the malefactor"

Sir Walter Scott

"Courage is as often the outcome of despair as of hope; in the one case we have nothing to lose, in the other, everything to gain"

Diane de Pointiers

I had not realized until I began to speak, just how badly I needed to speak of things. To tell someone, to be heard. To be understood. Anakin, for all of his shortcomings, has always been the person who has known me best,... and least.

And odd contradiction I suppose, but perhaps not so odd if you knew him as I did. Anakin has always had a remarkable ability to blind himself to the truth, so he only sees that which he wants to see, and only in the light he chooses to see it.

Still, even though I had trusted him with my life, and was now risking my heart, there are two infinitely precious things that I cannot risk. Not even to free myself of the last, and most painful of my burdens.

As badly as my heart wanted to trust him, I could not be completely certain he would not betray me again. After all, I had trusted him once with disastrous results. No, as long as Palpatine still lived I could not risk exposing my children to his wrath,... no matter the cost.

Even so I could not bring myself to out and out lie to him, so I told him the truth, and allowed his own guilt to lead him to what conclusions it would.

Anakin listened raptly as I spoke of waking up in the medical center, and what followed.

"Twins Anakin... We had twins."

He looked at me, stunned. "Twins?" he stammered incredulously."

"Yes. A boy and a girl. They,... They were so beautiful Anakin... My beautiful babies, they were so small,... and so incredibly fragile. "

The pain of my loss echoed hollowly in my spirit, and I knew he could sense it.

It was this pain coupled with my wording and his overwhelming guilt that led him to the conclusion I knew he would find.

Still I could not suppress a wave of guilt, I had not expected the raw, wounded pain that lay heavy in his voice when he spoke.

"Were? So they're..."

I looked away from him unable to look him in the eye as I deliberately misled him.

I did not need to fake my pain, or the tears that glimmered in my eyes as I spoke. Neither were my words strictly false, but that is a small comfort to my conscience.

"Yes. They... They're... gone." I finished dully.

"Both of them?" he asked harshly, a tinge of desperation coloring the pain in his voice as he gripped my arms almost painfully.

It nearly killed me to say it, to inflict the wound I knew my confirmation would cause. His pain is my pain, and I knew that what I was about to do could very well send him over the edge and back into darkness. Even beyond that, when he discovered, as he surely would, that I had deceived him, for deception it was, it will most likely break the fragile trust that lies between us.

But my children are the one thing that I hold more dearly than this trust, than my life, or even his soul.

And so the traitorous word fell from my lips, sharp as any knife.

"Yes."

The pain that came from him was almost overwhelming, I felt like I had indeed stabbed him. It was all I could do not to throw myself against his chest and confess then and there, only my iron will and love of my children prevented it.

He looked at me for what felt like a very long time, and then without warning he clutched me to him fiercely as he murmured apologies into my hair.

I felt so incredibly guilty in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to confess, but I could not. Not even for him. Still, there was a loss to mourn, if not their lives, the lives that we might have had together if things had been different.

I returned his embrace almost desperately, as we both wept for what was lost.

Sometime later when we had both quieted, he spoke again

"What happened after that? What happened to you?" he asked softly.

So with a heavy sigh I forced myself to continue the tale.

I spoke of my brief time in the medical center, and my half-hearted attempt to escape the long reach of the Empire.

I spoke of my foolishness, and the arrest that followed, the tension thrumming in his body a testament to the carefully controlled rage that burned inside him.

When I spoke of his Master, that tension disappeared, replaced with a white hot rage that sent shivers of disquiet crawling down my spine. His anger burned, but with no heat, it was cold and implacable. Beyond anything I had ever felt before. I felt his resolution, and I knew that the consequences would have a great affect on our lives.

When I would have stopped, he urged me to continue his gentle tone in direct contrast to the emotions I felt from him.

As I recounted my arrival on, what I now know to be, Rakesh, I surprised myself with the depth of the pain and horror that welled up from within me.

For a moment I could see the rough stone walls close before my eyes. The unending darkness and the bitter chill. Lost in the vision I was not even aware that I had begun to shake. I reached out a hand to touch the jagged stone and the vision melted away as though it had never been.

Except it had existed, had been my own personal hell for over ten years. I could feel the bile rising in my throat as I pushed away from Anakin and rose to my feet. Taking deep breaths I moved unsteadily to the window. If I was to relive this, I needed to see the sky as I spoke, see it and know that I am free, if only in the physical sense.

"I... I can't tell you what it was like... I could describe it to you, every stone, every crack... I could tell you how the chill would bite into my flesh, or how it felt waking up with every muscle aching from sleeping on the rough stone floor. I could tell you what it was like to never feel really, truly clean. I might even be able to tell you what it was like to lose connection with your senses, but you still wouldn't understand. I want so badly to explain,... to make you understand... but I don't know that I can."

I pause for a moment taking a great full gulp of fresh clean air before continuing.

"It was... darkness... death. No, more then that. It was the absence of life. There was no color there, just unending black and grey. No real sound, just unending silence..."

A bitter laugh escapes me in remembrance.

"Even the food was grey and tasteless. The air always smelt of must and decay,... but after awhile I didn't even notice it anymore... Everything there was rough and harsh... abrasive. Oppressive.

It was almost as though I had died and been entombed... I suppose in a way, I had. Except I wasn't dead, not quite. Though sometimes I wished I was.

There we're nights I prayed for release either from the pit, or in death, 'Please don't let me wake up here tomorrow.'"

A heavy sigh escaped me, leaving a slight fog on the windowpane. I idly swipe my fingers through it, even as I begin to speak once again.

"I had no hope of rescue. No one knew I was there, and most thought me dead. I deluded myself in the belief that I had hope, but I didn't, not really. I held on to that belief for as long as I could, but even that was eventually lost to me. And then... Then I prayed for death. The only release I had any real hope for. Sometimes I wish that I had the courage to just end it. There were days when it seemed like I couldn't stand it for another moment.

My skin felt tight and I couldn't breathe, it was as though all the stone was pushing in on me, crushing me."

My hand moved instinctively to my throat in unconscious memory as a slight tremor ran through my body.

"When it was bad like that, that's when I escaped. In my mind I lived a thousand lifetimes. I dreamt, and fantasized. I dreamed of freedom, of our children,... of you.

I dreamt of you often. Even when I didn't want to. There were days when I hated you. Days when I would have gladly killed you for what you had done. And then,... then there were days when I would have given anything, ANYTHING to have you hold me again.

Sometimes I would wake up reaching for you. It never seemed to hurt any less when I opened my eyes and realized you weren't there."

I stopped, realizing what I was saying, and then deliberately changed the train of thought.

"It's funny. I was always so busy, I rarely had a moment to myself. I remember bemoaning that fact often enough. Be careful what you wish for. For the first time in years, I had all the time in the world, and I couldn't bear it.

In a place like that, your thoughts are your only companion, and at the same time they drive you mad. There were so many things to worry about, so many foolish and petty concerns mingling with the truly important ones. I worried about the Republic, I worried about my family and my friends.

The thing was, that as well intentioned and real as those concerns and worries were, there was nothing, absolutely nothing I could do about any of it. I was truly and completely powerless. And I think that, that is probably what bothered me the most."

I shook my head, clearing it before continuing.

"No, what bothered me the most, is that I wasn't even me anymore. Everything I was, everything that defined me was stripped away. I wasn't Senator Amidala, and I wasn't Padme Naberrie, and I wasn't even Padme Skywalker anymore. I was just,... me, and that terrified me. I wouldn't admit it, not even to myself, but living like that, it changes you somehow, your not who once were, those roles don't fit anymore, and at the same time you aren't really this new creature either. You don't quite fit in your own skin, it's like you've been broken and put back together, only there are pieces missing, cracks and gaping holes. When you look in the mirror you expect to see yourself changed on the surface as well, but you haven't, not really...then, when you look yourself in the eyes, you see a stranger looking out at you. Someone you don't even recognize...

I'm so tired Anakin, tired of all of this. I'm tired of being strong, and always having to make the right decisions. I'm just so incredibly tired of it all. If I could I think I would leave this place and never have anything more to do with this world again. I would go and start over, try to live my life in peace. But I can't. I never could."

I turned to face him, my eyes glimmering with unshed tears. His own face is hooded, the blue eyes, dark and hard. I can feel the impotent anger burning inside of him. As much as he wanted to know what had happened to me, the reality of it is far different. There is nothing he can do to make this any better, and he knows it. No matter who he kills, no matter what he does, nothing can change what is already past. Perhaps I need to accept this to.

"And you Anakin? Have these years been kinder to you than they have to me? Or do you to have your own story to tell?"

He looked at me for a long moment, a frown marring his brow, before speaking.

"I don't know that there is much to tell. It's all jumbled together, the years blending into one long expanse of time. I'm not sure what you want me to say."

"I don't know Anakin, I just want to understand."

He is silent for a very long time, debating about how to answer me. Or perhaps just trying to decide where to begin. I sink down to the floor, my arms wrapped around my knees, and watch the thoughts play across his face. When he speaks his tone is distant, almost as though he is speaking of someone else, who knows, perhaps in some way he is.

"The first thing I did when I came around enough to understand what was going on around me, was to ask about you. When Palpatine told me you were dead... everything changed."

He turned away from me and clasped his hands behind his back as he continued his tale.

"At first I was angry, with you, with the force; with myself. I couldn't stand that I had lost you. That I had killed you. It was easier to be angry than to deal with the pain. Unfortunately fate was against me. I was still recovering and I had to spend countless hours in the medical center. Far to many long miserable hours where my thoughts hounded me. The pain of losing you was intense, I could feel it burning inside of me. Like some intrinsic part of my spirit had been torn out leaving a void that nothing could fill."

He ran his hand across his head, an unconscious gesture that was achingly familiar.

"I tried, force knows I tried, but nothing helped. I could still see you, every time I closed my eyes, every time I let my guard down for even a moment, you were there. It killed me, and with time I got better at controlling it, but then I would turn a corner and catch a glimpse of a face in a crowd. My heart would leap in my chest thinking it was you, and just like that all the progress I had made melted away and I was raw and grieving again.

Sometimes I would hear your voice talking to me, that was the worst. During the day I would do my best to drive your voice from my mind, but at night... It killed me to hear it, but in the stillness of the night my weakness had full sway. As much as it hurt, I would play the memories over in my mind, letting the sound of your voice wash over me like a caress and yet like grinding salt into a wound.

I slept little, in the darkness and quiet of the sleep cycle my memories plagued me. Scenes playing over and over in my head until I thought I would go mad with it. I tormented myself endlessly with stupid little things like the way you laughed, or that little furrow in your brow when your working on a particularly difficult problem. The smell of your perfume hounded me, Nubian flowers, another thing I loved and loathed.

When I did sleep, I dreampt of you constantly. The scenes changed but it always ended the same. I would see you as you were on Mustafar, that look of disbelief and horror on your face, like I had suddenly transformed into a monster before your eyes. I suppose I had. No matter what I tried to do or say, it always ended the same. I hurt you and all I can see is you lying there so still and fragile, like a doll carelessly thrown to the floor, broken and discarded. I couldn't do anything to stop it, I couldn't do anything to save you, and then I would awaken, my throat raw from screaming."

I could see the tremors that ran through his broad shoulders, and fought down the urge to go to him. I knew that he would not appreciate my noticing this vulnerability.

"Eventually I just became so numb I couldn't stand it anymore, I stopped caring about anything, stopped feeling. I became completely numb,... cold, the machine everyone thought me to be. I stopped seeing your face everywhere I went, or hearing your voice. And then,... then I stopped dreaming. I didn't smell flowers anymore."

He paused for a moment, and sank down beside me before continuing, his voice so soft I could barely hear it.

"And then I walked into that garrison on Rakesh, and for the fist time in years, I smelt flowers again. When I heard your voice, felt you reaching for me, it was as though a switch had been thrown and everything came to life again. Smells, sounds, colors... feelings."

He shook his head ruefully before continuing.

"Do you know what the worst of it is? I didn't even know. I never even realized the things that were missing until I was hit with them again."

He paused again, looking into my eyes intently.

"I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry I forgot you for even a moment. I'm sorry I didn't look for you, that I took Palpatine's lie at face value. I'm sorry for not trusting you, for listening to Palpatine at all. I know this changes nothing, and I've said it before, but I am truly sorry I hurt you. It was never my intention."

"I know." I said, and surprisingly, I meant it. I did know. He had done wrong, terrible wrong, and he'd paid the price for the decisions he made.

Everything he had done, while obviously from a deluded viewpoint, had, at least at first, been done with the best of intentions. He would never deliberately hurt me. His actions on Mustafar had been driven by his fear, jealousy and insecurity.

Anakin had always been controlled by his insecurities. As a slave he had not had any rights, and or anything he could really call his own. While joining the Jedi had established some sense of pride and identity it didn't feed the need that gnawed inside of him. He needed to be needed, wanted, to be loved. The loss of his mother only compounded the needy woundedness the was as much apart of him as breathing.

Then I came into his life, an idealized boyhood crush. I represented all of the things he wanted and needed so desperately. He was insanely jealous. Having had so few things in his life that he could call his own, what little he did have he guarded jealously. And I was certainly at the top of the list. Knowing this, and knowing him as I did, I could understand what had led him to make the decisions he had. Respect them? No. Agree with them? Most definitely not. Understand them? Yes. Maybe that's enough to begin with, it has to be.

After this revelation, I had turned to him and embraced him, laying my head against his chest. He was surprised at first, but returned my embrace with a ferocity that surprised us both.

Now as we sit here I can hear his heart beating steadily beneath my ear, the comforting rhythm matching my own. His voice breaks the peaceful silence that surrounds us, his tone laden with regret.

"I have to go."

My head snaps up nearly catching him on the chin.

"Go? Go where?"

He sighs heavily, before speaking once again. "I am to meet my 'master'. He requested my presence, which I suppose is just as well because he and I have some unfinished business to attend to."

A cool wave of satisfaction runs through me, and I am shamed by my own desire for vengeance. I know from the cold gleam in Anakin's eye that Palpatine's death will not be an easy one. But in truth, I cannot find it in me to care.

As much as I would like to stay like this, cradled in the safety of Anakin's body, I know that we will have no real peace until Palpatine is dead. The Galaxy will be forever in jeopardy as long as Palpatine sits on his throne.

I consider demanding that he take me with him when he confronts his master, but as much as I would enjoy seeing the look on Palpatine's face when he saw me there, alive and well, I know it would not be for the best. I am still weak, my body not fully recovered from my long imprisonment, I would be of little assistance in a fight. If anything I believe I would prove a distraction, and this is one fight where Anakin cannot afford to be distracted.

As I look into Anakin's blue eyes a frisson of fear runs down my spine. Fate has played us false to many times before, and I can't help but fear that the price of our freedom from Palpatine's tyranny may be Anakin's life. The galaxy has never been fair to us, and we have already been cheated of far to many years.

"You'll be careful?" I ask softly.

He smiles at me his grin the cocky look I remember so well.

"Aren't I always?"

I cock an eyebrow at him skeptically.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm afraid of."

He presses a kiss to my forehead and murmurs softly, his words almost undecipherable.

"If I were a better man I would let you go and try to live your life in some measure of peace."

I reach my hand up to his cheek and he grips it in his, as he presses his cheek into my palm.

"Who says I would let you?"

He chuckles ruefully and carefully sets me on my feet. As he pulls himself up beside me, I realize for the first time that he is not wearing his armor. I suppose I must have noticed it, but in the midst of all that was occurring I had not cognitively processed it.

"Where is your armor?" I ask as we walk out toward the main living room.

He bends down and picks up a small pile of clothes off the floor, where he must have dropped them in his haste to get to me.

"When I face Palpatine, I want to face him as I am. I want to be able to look him in the eye, so he knows why he's dying." he says as he deftly pulls on the over tunic and looks behind him for the utility belt.

Carefully I pick it up before he can reach for it, and move toward him, a question in my eyes.

He nods his consent, and I reach around him and carefully latch the belt, straightening the line of his tunic.

His hands gently reach down and caress my arms in a gesture so familiar that time has not dimmed it in the least.

"It will be alright Padme. I promise you."

A shiver runs down my spine at those painfully familiar words, and I send a silent prayer that this will not be another broken promise.

I look up and our eyes lock, a silent message passing between us that neither dares speak. His eyes darken slowly as his head slowly moves down toward mine, he pauses just before his lips meet mine.

"For luck." he murmurs softly, his breathe feathering against my lips. And then his lips are pressed to mine fiercely sending small shockwaves through both of us. The room tilts wildly and nothing exists outside of this moment, just him and me.

He pulls away from me, his eyes dark with passion, and an unspoken promise. Then he is gone, and I'm standing alone in the entryway of what was once my home, watching the door slide shut behind him, the words of my unspoken farewell echoing hollowly in my mind.

"May the force with you Anakin."