Chapter Three

Jagged Reflection

Padmé's knuckles were numb from the insistent rapping on the carved wooden door. It was an import from her home planet of Naboo – crafted by a master woodcarver and given to her as a gift from Queen Jamillia when she accepted the position as Senator.
Padmé wanted to reduce it to splinters.
She had nearly shouted herself hoarse and exhausted a very colorful assortment of insults, in a wide variety of languages. But the door remained as solid as ever – and her infuriating husband did not appear at her forceful command. Padmé leaned against the doorframe, her temper cooling to smoldering embers that burned in her brown eyes, listening hard as her heartbeat thundered into her eardrums. The twins sensed their mother's agitation and reacted with frantic movements; twisting and turning, punching and kicking, they seemed to absorb Padmé's emotions and respond emphatically. Padmé touched her swollen belly, feeling the press of one of her children on her palm – but she could not summon the calm, soothing words to appease them.
The muffled voices echoing down the hall quieted, and Padmé laid an ear on the heavy wood, brows drawn together in concentration. An uneasy silence hovered over the entire suite – a silence that was suddenly interrupted by the unmistakable snap-hiss of a drawn lightsaber.

Her heart rose into her throat and for an instant, she couldn't breathe.
Terror for the man she loved held her in a vise grip, and the edges of her vision grew white. Padmé ordered her stubborn lungs to inhale as she held onto the doorframe for support, worried that she would faint and injure her babies. Staring blankly at the floor, fear clouded her thoughts as she questioned how she could possibly raise their children without Anakin.
Then a rational thought jolted her brain like a splash of cold water.
Whirling away from the door, the Senator of Naboo rushed over to her side of the bed and dug under the blankets, searching. Her fingers touched warm metal, and logic immediately cooled her blistering mind. Padmé withdrew the silver Nubian blaster pistol from beneath the mattress and checked the charge. This model was outdated, but she had saved it as a memento from her days as Queen of Naboo. She had used this blaster to regain control of the Palace and free her plant from the occupation of the Trade Federation.
But that victory had carried a severe price.

Padmé put aside the dark memories and took position a few feet from the door. Spreading her feet apart for balance, she barely resisted the triumphant smirk that curved her mouth.
Anakin did not know that she kept a blaster under the bed. He was in for a surprise.
She hesitated before taking aim at the doorknob. Her abrupt arrival may distract Anakin from defending himself, and she could not bear to be the cause of his defeat.
On the other hand, her presence may diffuse a very explosive situation.
With a decisive nod, Padmé grasped the blaster in both hands and sighted her target.
I never liked that door anyway.

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The words hung in the air, adhering to the unnatural fog, and Anakin's jaw clenched.
It was not a threat – threats he could laugh off – but a statement.
A statement delivered as a fact.
That was what angered him.
The leather glove creaked as he tightened his grip on his lightsaber hilt. Obi-Wan was committing a fatal mistake. He had given his old Master the chance to reconsider.
Now he had to face the consequences.
Anakin released the floodgates containing the inferno blazing in his chest, yet he replied coolly, "You will try."

In a single, blurred move, his blue blade ignited and the Force propelled him in a back flip that brought him directly behind the Jedi Master. Submerged in the Force, Obi-Wan spun to meet him, and the two brothers exchanged furious blows too quick for the untrained eye to follow.
Anakin attacked with untamed viciousness, putting Obi-Wan on the defensive. His blade a whirl of energy, Obi-Wan felt his feet carry him backwards, until a blast of wind hit the Jedi from behind.
He realized that Anakin had driven him onto the veranda.
No, he amended as he glanced at the younger man's twisted features, this is not Anakin.
Vader had Anakin's knowledge and prowess, but none of his restraint or finesse. And the power behind each movement was immense.
But Obi-Wan had fought at Anakin's side for nearly three years as equals, and trained him before that for ten. They were two halves of a whole – a reflection of each other.
For every thrust, there was a parry.
Neither gave ground.

Unexpectedly, those hate-filled cerulean eyes widened in horror, and the assault came to a discordant end as the young Sith froze and mouthed a single word. A name. Padmé.
Above the harsh buzzing of their lightsabers, Obi-Wan heard five quick bursts of blaster fire and the sound of splintering wood from down the far hall.
The crash of a hard kick against a weakened obstacle.
Quick, light footsteps that increased in volume…until a petite brunette clutching an archaic silver blaster, her face flushed and dark eyes shooting sparks, reeled around the corner.
She froze upon spotting the two Jedi on the veranda, the vibrant indigo light of their blades illuminating their expressions.
Obi-Wan was a mixture of apprehension and amazement.
Anakin…unqualified dread masked his handsome face.
She stepped closer – looking regal framed by the massive winged statues placed around the threshold, holding her blaster with practiced ease as she stared at each of them in turn.
Time appeared to stop as three souls strained for purchase in a new, abrasive environment.

Padmé stared at her husband until he uncomfortably looked down. She wondered uneasily at the foreign gleam in his eyes, and his expression told her that he was upset that she had extracted herself from her makeshift "safehouse"… But not necessarily that he was sorry to have locked her up in the first place.
Obi-Wan marveled at the Senator's courage and fire – which he should have counted on, as he had known her for quite some time. His concern for the safety of the child weighed profoundly on
his mind, but observing the young woman level her weapon with casual ease reminded him that she was not totally helpless.
Anakin felt that he was spinning in zero g with no sense of a horizon. He should have known that she would never let a little thing like a locked door dissuade her from her goal.
His wife fairly glowed with willpower in the feeble daylight, and his heart swelled with love. The fear swiftly corroded that feeling as he glanced at the small curve of her torso.
Deciding to risk her ire further, Anakin slid sideways, shielding Padmé from Obi-Wan's view, and angled his lightsaber defensively across them both.
He felt Padmé's surprise before she asked, "Anakin, what are you doing?"

His tormented gaze stilled her tongue as he looked at her over his shoulder and murmured painfully, "Why did you have to come out here, Padmé? I was just trying to protect you and –" he cut off, remembering that another was listening to their hushed words. "That's my duty. To protect you. I can't do that if you intentionally put yourself in harm's way."
Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and she reached out and gripped his shoulder hard. "You are not my bodyguard anymore, Ani. You are my husband. Can you honestly expect me to stand aside when you are in harm's way?" He smelled her sweet, spicy perfume as she kissed his cheek, and then left the shelter of his body to address Obi-Wan.
They regarded one another silently, and the Jedi Master saw the veils part within Padmé's deep brown eyes. He saw her fear for Anakin. For his life…but most importantly, for his soul.
She feared that Obi-Wan may have been right.
The veils were drawn again as quickly as they had vanished, and Obi-Wan sensed her unyielding hope to prove him wrong. And he couldn't agree more.

The fleeting glance between his former mentor and his wife was not lost on Anakin. A ripple of anxiety skittered through Padmé as Obi-Wan stared at her with sad eyes, and jealousy roared in the hollow caverns of his chest. Anakin's flesh hand snaked out to grip his wife's wrist and he drew her to him, tucking her firmly against his side.
Padmé stumbled as a strong hand caught hers and she suddenly found herself pressed into her husband's broad chest, his arm linked tight around her shoulders. "Ani?" Her dark eyes drifted to his face as the blue-white flare of his lightsaber rose before them protectively. "Anakin, what are you doing?" she asked again, with a considerable amount of determination. It was a tone that broached no delays – she expected an answer, now.
She watched his jaw clench as he kept his eyes on Obi-Wan, and his embrace constricted her movement as he pressed her body closer. Her palm came to rest on his chest, a sheen of moisture on his skin. She could feel his heart thundering wildly and her breath caught in her throat. His pulse was incredibly fast; a normal human would fall into cardiac arrest.
And his skin was unbelievably hot, as if he was on fire inside.

He must have sensed her fear, for he finally spared her a glance and murmured softly, "It's all right, Padmé, I'm fine. I promise." His eyes had softened as well as he spoke, and for a handful of heartbeats she actually believed him. It obviously pleased him, for he returned his attention to the Jedi Master watching the exchange warily, and she saw him change.
The blue eyes that would shimmer like captured stars, that would convey all of the things he felt for her…died.
The azure pools cooled, yet burned at the same time, like the taut skin under her fingertips. Ice-hot orbs that once smoldered with love now promised death.
Padmé's mind flashed to her dream. She shivered, the hair on the back of her neck pinching, and her stomach twisted uncomfortably. Her small hands fisted on Anakin's robe and she looked up at him, pleading, "Ani…Anakin, don't do this, please."
Anakin heard her calling to him across the black chasm of his rage, and felt a brief surge of annoyance. If she had only stayed in the bedroom like she was supposed to then this fight would already be over and they would be on their way to Naboo. The Force suddenly thrust the vision he'd had on his journey back to Coruscant into his head – only this time it was different. He saw himself walking through the charred ruins of a great city. He saw that man pause, and his gaze light up. He saw a hand reach out to…
The vision swirled violently, and he heard someone sobbing. No, not someone – her.

Anakin sank like a stone tossed into deep water.
Padmé had shared his vision; there was no other explanation. How or why, he did not know, nor did it change the truth of their situation. In that distorted world, she had seen what he had become and in fear for her safety and that of their unborn children, retreated, her wounded soul crying as it was torn from his.
And he had caused it.
Whether it was now or in the future, all the threads were connected to him. And he chose which ones to sever and which to keep.
What have I done?
He was dimly aware that he was kneeling on the hard stone of the balcony; Padmé's curls wafting around his face and shoulders as she crouched beside him, eyes wide with worry.
He saw her beautiful mouth moving, but he could not hear her words. The vision continued to haunt every second of his life. Anakin sank deeper into darkness; if it sought to claim him, so be it. Anything to hide him from the uncertainty that smothered him like a wet blanket, sucking the oxygen out of his world.

The fires caged inside his heart screamed to be loosed, vowing to fill him with vitality if he would but use that power. He had the ability to change the vision if he wished – he was not bound to one chain of events. He was the Chosen One!
But doubt devoured the edges of his mind, and he floated in grey numbness. He had removed himself from the philosophy of the Jedi Order, and the stark realization that his angel had shared in his nightmarish vision had thrust him out of the black grip of the Sith. He was nothing.
Perhaps he belonged in this world between worlds. Maybe that was how he was to bring balance, if the prophecy could be trusted. But trust had become a foreign emotion to Anakin. He had trusted in his dreams and gone to his mother, and she had died in his arms amid the sands of Tatooine. He had trusted the Jedi Council to finally acknowledge his accomplishments and grant him the title he deserved, and they had shoved him callously aside. He had trusted Palpatine in the role of mentor and guide since he was a small boy, spilling his secrets like water, and the Chancellor turned out to be the Sith Lord whose goal was to overthrow the galaxy.
Trust was an enemy to Anakin Skywalker.
Flames licked at the edges of his colorless existence, fueled by vengeful fury. Everything he had ever devoted himself to, given shards of his precious soul – betrayed him.
Save one.
His gaze slowly focused on her flawless face, framed by a riot of brown curls, and silently renewed the vow that he would not lose her. Not to the Senate, not to Obi-Wan, not to death.
She belonged to him.

Padmé was the one, pure, beautiful thing in his life. She filled him with sunshine and hope, and their little ones nestled inside her fulfilled every dream he had dared to wish for.
The fire burst behind his pupils, and the world exploded with brightness. Anakin pulled himself to his feet, keenly aware of Padmé's soft hand on his arm and her quiet entreaty for him to tell her that he was all right. He felt energized as the flames warmed him inside once more, fresh strength flowing into his muscles and determination flooding his mind.
His eyes found the Jedi Master standing near his docked star fighter, and his mouth twisted in a scornful smirk. Blue light emerged from the hilt clenched in his hand, as the other gently yet firmly guided his wife's slender frame to the side. He would not listen to her pleas any longer. She was a greathearted woman and he adored her for that…but her compassion was wasted on this man, this traitor who would destroy them if given the chance.
Anakin would not give him that chance.
His eyes burned, but he welcomed the pain as well as the surge of power coursing through his veins. His old friend blinked at him, blatant shock written on his features.
"This ends now."
It rumbled through the Force, and Obi-Wan's face hardened. He fell into the stance Anakin had seen countless times, the tip of the Jedi's blade pointing towards him.
Then everything happened at once.