Thank you all again for your reviews, favorites, and follows, it definitely keeps me going when IRL commitments lead to unwanted writer's block (adulting sucks). It has come to a point where one of the hardest chapters in this story is finally upon me, and it's taking a little longer to get to it and get it right than I'd like, but hopefully that means it'll come out better than expected as well :) In the mean time, here's Chapter 5, hope you all enjoy!

CHAPTER 5

He had watched the sunrise, the beams of light breaking through the fading darkness telling of the ever-present traffic. He hadn't slept, his mind haunted by the images that refused to settle, become meaningful and understood, mainly focused on Obi-Wan, Anakin's arrogant, conscious desire to eclipse his master, and his deep, devastating resentment when he was chastised for flaunting his power. However, Anakin no longer felt such desire eating away at his soul, felt no such bitterness toward the man who had taken him in, made him a Jedi and molded him into the man he was, even if he knew those angry memories were real, causing his chest to twist in shame. Unfortunately, his mind wouldn't let him think on his new feelings, allowing for the good, happy images of his master to be tainted by the mechanical monster cloaked in black that he saw in his nightmares, and Anakin would writhe and anguish again, fighting between who he was and who he wanted to be until he found her, shining in the depths of his mind.

His Angel, she was quite literally the girl of his dreams. Every image he pulled strength from was of her: the Angel with the warm, loving chocolate eyes. The calm and overwhelming deep love that came at his mere thought of her took away all his pain, soothed his pulsing head, and brought clarity to his existence. But those images were tainted as well, and her death screeched across the glowing scenes of love like a freight train bound on reminding him that his Angel is no more alive than everyone else he truly loved.

Anakin sat still on the edge of his bed, blankets rumpled with fruitless attempts at sleep, but even if his body was still in his wakeful state, his ever-moving mind kept sorting through the mess that was his jumbled memories. It was the quiet times, the times before the girl with the warm, healing touch would come see him that he dreaded. In these moments, the images and whispers were at their loudest, and only she could drive them away. He sucked in a breath as he felt himself pulled into another painful place, one that he knew was all too real, and his head dropped into his hands as the images engulfed him.

He kicked the wall of the mud hut through where he had cut it, and he crouched down into the fire-lit space to reach his goal. Anakin's eyes fell on an older woman, beaten, bleeding, and terribly bruised tied up and barely conscious. Swiftly, he undid her bindings with hardly a moment before she collapsed into his arms and he slumped to the ground with her, cradling her like his most precious possession. "Mom?"

Slowly she opened her eyes, her groans of pain falling silent as she took in his face for what he felt was the first time in years. "Ani?"

"I'm here mom, you're safe."

She cradled his face with her scarred hand, marveling at how handsome he was, and upon his kiss to her palm she sighed how proud she was of him. He could feel her life slipping away with each breath, and he clung to her, wanting to hold her as tightly as he could to keep her with him. But, as she declared her unyielding and unconditional love for her grown up son, Anakin felt her life leave her body as her head fell limp from his shoulder.

A sob bobbed from his throat, and tears fell from his eyes both in his mind and sitting still on his bed. He had seen this one before, replayed several times, more times perhaps than Obi-Wan cutting him down as they fought to the death, and he wept at the rage and hate he felt pulsing through his veins as he committed an unspeakable killing spree. He knew it was him, but it couldn't be. The anger was gone, the resentment, the bitter lust for power and control, all gone, and yet as he watched through the eyes of his younger self, a whisper told him it was true. He clutched his head tighter, his eyes squeezing hot tears from their depths as he struggled to understand how these terrible acts were his.

The gentle swish of the door opening banished the Tuskens' screams, and Anakin glanced out towards the now strong sunlight streaming through his window, hurriedly wiping at his tears, expecting the healing girl to come to his side with his breakfast and begin her first assessment of the day. When silence was the only follow up to the intrusion, Anakin turned questioningly to the door and paused in his movement for fear that the apparition would disappear.

She stood before him, the girl of his dreams, his Angel, glowing in the Force like a beacon for him, amplified by the radiant sunlight from the still open door as he simply stared at her. Her deep blue dress brought forth images of her standing in the desert of Tatooine, her loose curls moving slightly in the soft wind as she stroked his hair as he cried. "To be angry is to be human." His mind raced as the vision of her dying reared its head again, and even as she stood right in front of him, breathing, alive, he couldn't quite allow himself to believe it.

She gasped when their eyes met, and her gaze raked over his body from head to toe, and he saw tears glistening from her beautiful, intelligent depths. "Oh, Anakin," she sighed, and he heard the emotion she was fighting to overcome. He held her gaze unblinking as she sniffed and took a step toward him, still waiting pensively for her to walk into thin air and dissolve before his eyes. But she continued her short, wary walk to him, fully formed, and he felt an incredible calm at the barely restrained joy he felt radiating from her. He still held his breath as she cautiously sat on the bed beside him, and though she was almost a foot away from him, giving him his space, he could feel the warmth of her skin, smell the scent of her shampoo, and he lost himself in the intoxication of her presence.

"Ani, I've missed you so much," she said. She kept her distance, holding her hands in each other and crossing her ankles together, and as he let his breath release, accepting that perhaps she was real, all he wanted to do was touch her. "Nothing's been the same without you." His heart that had been silenced for so long screamed for him to simply reach out and touch her hair, convince himself that she was really here and with him. Tentatively and shaking, Anakin softly brushed his fingertips against a soft, perfect curl, and her eyes dropped to his hand, startled by his movement.

Unwelcome images flew to his mind and he moaned, pulling his eyes from his Angel but still seeing her face as all new memories of her played before him. Her familiar distressed screams as she begged for him to help her reverberated throughout as he pounded the smug Scipio diplomat to a pulp, only pulling away at her angry, resolved voice as she banished him from her life. The screams intensified behind images of his hand wrapping an invisible force around her neck, cutting her off from her life force before releasing her to face his old master. "Stop now, come back!" she begged him. The jealousy, the anger, the hate pulsed through the memories, causing Anakin to whimper in despair and sadness. How could he do such things to her, his precious Angel, his love? He began to weep as he realized that though she lived, she might never forgive him.

"Ani, please, it's okay, Ani. Please, come back!" Gentle but firm hands cradling his face drew him back to his room, this morning, and the Angel he didn't deserve. She stood before him now, matching tear tracks down her cheeks as she bent down to catch his gaze. Anakin sniffed and gulped as he drowned in her eyes, the eyes of a woman whose love for him was unmistakable, and he felt terribly unworthy. She gave him a watery smile as she watched his eyes clear. "There you are, my love," she sighed.

Wanting all the calm, serenity, and love that her eyes gave to him, Anakin slowly pulled his shaking hands from his hair and tentatively, watching her every move, placed them on her cheeks, holding her delicate face in a mirror image of her own hold on him. Relief engulfed Padmé's eyes as she read the recognition, longing, and love he was projecting towards her from his intent stare, and without breaking eye contact she turned her face and softly kissed her husband's hand. Yes, her name was Padmé, and she was his Angel, his wife, his everything. And she was alive.

"Angel," he whispered, and her eyes widened with shock as more images came to his mind, but these were uninhibited by the haunt and sting of her death. Padmé's slightly younger face stares at him pensively as he strokes her exposed back and leans in to kiss her for the first time as the sun shimmers off the lake. She holds his hand as they take their marriage vows, smiling as she promises her love and devotion to him always, while later she playfully pulls him into her kiss by the braid behind his ear. "I love you."

Feeling an unyielding urge to hold her, Anakin lunged into her stomach, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his head below her breasts. His tears fell in relief as he felt her arms encircle his head and shoulders, her fingers threading through his curls just how he likes it. "Padmé," he choked heavily through his tears, and he felt her gasp as her name fell from his lips. "Alive."

She continued to hold him as his mind reveled in her existence and the strength he drew from the love he felt radiating from her for him. Despite his crushing guilt for deeds he wasn't sure he had done and those he knew were his own selfish sins, his Angel was here, she was alive, and she loved him. The enormity of how blessed yet unworthy he was of such a love in his life was incalculable, and Anakin vowed that if his mind ever came back to him, making him whole, he would spend the rest of his life and beyond making this woman happy. His tears slowed and he was left shaking in her arms. Padmé tenderly urged his face from her body as she knelt between his legs and caught his gaze again.

"Yes, Ani," she whispered, her own throat choked with tears. "I'm here." She smiled gently, and, stroking his cheek free of tears, she leaned in and kissed him. The flood of images returned, but they were slower, clearer, more collected and put together. As he responded timidly to her soft kiss, cradling her cheek delicately, the calm she gave him began piecing things into place.