1:

Perplexed by its beauty, he stared at the alluring figure.

Could it be her?

Yes... it is her, indeed.

She was facing away from him, towards the sun and the heavenly skies. Lavish brown hair dangled down, softly swishing in the breeze. From the back, she looked just as gorgeous as when he last saw her...

When he killed her.

Remorse cut across his chest, zapping into the flesh heart, leaving an anguish that stung like Palpatine's Sith Lightning whenever Vader was subject to torture.

Conceal your anguish.

The old man marveled at the ethereal form, the undying sunlight casting a halo around her radiant body.

Tears gathered at the corners of his still-healing eyes. Tears of shame, tears of regret, tears of misery... Tears of love. At the sight of her, his heart pounded as if it was brand new and had never beat before. He sniffled, his hands trembling a little. His muscles were tense and stiff, unsure what her reaction would be...

Would she be mad? Would she curse me, condemn me to the Corellian Hells?

He would not feel agitation if she were to do such things; after all, he had committed such atrocities in his lifetime. For half of his entire physical existence, he wrongly served as the bane against all things she ever stood for: peace, freedom, and justice.

Or would I, though I do not deserve it, be forgiven?

Mustering every ounce of courage he held inside, he swallowed and gave a long inhale before stepping closer to her. What... what should I say...? What... yes... yes.

He tried his best to make a decent impression, but his voice only came out as a hoarse, ancient-sounding croak, thick with emotion.

"Are you an angel?"

She did not turn around, but the old man heard her voice nonetheless:

"What?" There was great warmness and affection, and perhaps even a bit of a giggle to her reply, yet the old man could not ignore the tinge of sadness that came with it.

His tears dripping out uncontrollably and his voice coming in quiet, wavering whispers, he carried on:

"An angel." He paused, a cough searing through his body. Did he... Did he feel a wave of concern pass from her? Oh, how unworthy, how undeserving was he to her care. He gathered his breath, wheezing a little, but continued rasping:

"When I was a naïve boy on Tattooine, I heard the deep space pilots talk about them." His voice crackled, broke, disintegrated. Out of necessity, he took a moment to recover his air and regain his pitiful voice. "When I was a young... yes, a young but more sophisticated man fighting in the Clone Wars, I had the pleasure of one appearing in my sight. They live on the moons of Iego, and they're the most beautiful creatures in the universe."

The old man paused, contemplating for a moment, realizing those words did not fully express what he wished to say.

"Darling, please forgive me, for I have misspoken... You are not an angel from the moons of Iego. You are a being that is far more lovely and precious, so much that I have no words to describe you."

The old man held his breath.

Padmé Amidala turned around. A jubilant smile displayed her straight rows of pearly teeth, so vastly different from the crooked ones inside the old man's hideous mouth. Her smile offered comfort without words. Tears were cascading down her shimmering face as she murmured with her soothing, tranquil voice,

"Oh, my dear Anakin... I am not an angel, at least not one from the moons of Iego. I do not wish to be an angel. I just want to be your wife.

I just want us to be with each other again. For eternity."


A/N.

-I'm fully aware that Ani's not actually that old, but he describes himself as old earlier in the fic

-Also, I know Vader did not kill Amidala (he only choked her), but it felt more fitting for him to be unaware that he was not the one who ended her life, and still be wallowing in remorse over it.


2:

The speed of Sergeant Sal's recovery was quite stunning- but then, he is a healthy young man in his early twenties. A pale hand running through his blond hair, he strode down the hall, towards that all-too-familiar cell.

He had heard the news in the med bay- the suicide of Anakin Skywalker, or, since the clear majority still went by the title of his infamous former self, Darth Vader. It was quite sad, really; one, the man had been an asset to the Alliance, and two, in the time Sal spent as a guard, he came to know the man well enough to comprehend that he was much more than a machine.

Sal knew just how much his prisoner had loved his children, even if that love was partially unrequited. And since it would not be an overstatement to say that Sgt. Sal had always been a diligent man for all tasks he cared for, whether it be paperwork or guard, with his interactions at the elder Skywalker's side, his reactions were natural.

Surprisingly enough, when security forces finally entered the cell, they had found no body. The cameras located throughout the room, which all were not tampered with, indicated that the corpse just... disappeared. Evaporated.

With his release from that prison-like place, Sgt. Sal had been desperate to return to Anakin's former cell. And now, he had finally arrived. A few other former guards to the cell, who had also known a little about Anakin, were already present. Sal greeted them with a sharp nod; they returned the gesture.

Closing his eyes, Sgt. Sal drew in a breath, then walked in.

The note was unevenly scratched into the chair, but eligible nonetheless. Tears prickled at Sal's eyes as his eyes scanned the note over and over.

"Dear Sgt. Sal. If you read this message, it is most likely that I have passed on. If I may, I ask two more things from you. One, that I be buried by my wife Padmé Amidala Skywalker, on Naboo. You have my gratitude."

Yes. Padmé Amidala Skywalker... He had heard of the Naboo senator and queen, but never had he known the relationship that ran between her and his former prisoner. But since she was an honorable woman, he would do his best to fulfill his wish. The note continued.

"Two, please let Han Solo know that I greatly appreciate his company with my late daughter and inform him that he is a truly remarkable man, though his manners and etiquette may be of contradiction."

On the other hand, General Solo would not be difficult to find.

The next part was when the emotions would hit and swell like a hurricane inside Sgt. Sal's chest.

"Thank you for your efforts in aiding me to cope with the tremendous loss of my children. Know that I am now in a better place."