Part two of the previous chapter.
Padmé's heart aches beneath her breast, her eyes heavy-lidded with exhaustion. She has hardly slept since the devastating loss that had seen her deprived of both her men and munitions.
For her soldiers, she is a stoic wall. An edifice to which they look in the midst of such a tragedy. Only Anakin knows the depth of her private torment, for it is only during her visits to him that she has allowed herself the luxury of a general's hollow grief.
When she had first returned and come to him, stepping into the sanctuary of his make-shift room, he had recognized her hidden agony with a look, seen past her brave front to identify the worry and fear written in her eyes. He had risen wordlessly to comfort her, pulling her into an embrace that any other might have found terrifying. She had sunk into his frame, giving him the burden of her body's weight. In a fog of relief and anguish, her hands had gripped him with a ferocity she scarce knew she possessed, careful of the crucial power leads clipped to his chest.
In the intervening week, she has come to visit him each day, if only to allow herself a few moments of unmasked weariness as she buries more and more of the dead. More and more "missing in action" being redesignated in her personnel lists as "killed in action." Anakin assures her that, by Imperial standards, the base's personnel had survived remarkably unscathed. But it does nothing to assuage her anger or her grief.
But tonight, she takes no comfort in his company…because it is now Anakin over whom she grieves.
After an intense and private conference over the subspace radio, High Command has decided to move Anakin into a different life support system as there is no way to repair the destroyed battery mechanism without destroying the whole. Expensive though it is, his knowledge is deemed valuable enough to justify his salvation.
Unfortunately, the odds that he survives the surgery are little better than a coin toss.
The operation must be done. She understands this. He cannot survive for long in the suit's present cobbled-together condition, dependent on a stationary generator for his continued existence. A part of her blames herself. She should have been there to seize command. If she had, perhaps there would not have been such heavy casualties…perhaps her husband would not have been caught in the midst of that damnable crossfire that now necessitates so risky an operation.
The medical team has cordoned off a small private area around the generator, mostly to keep him from frightening the other patients. It is here that she sits with him on the pretense of a "final" debriefing. Even so, as he stares out the window, watching the rain falling outside, they both remain silent, united in the mute understanding that this might be his final night alive. His breaths labor in her ear, mechanical though they are, they have quickened as his system works on limited power.
From time to time, he glances thoughtfully at the holo puck on the table, an item she had re-gifted him in the wake of the original's loss during the base attack. The two smiling faces of his children stare back at them. Two faces that he has not actually seen. Two faces he now may never see.
He has removed the helm to effectuate his own comfort, replacing the breathing component with a clear oxygen mask that allows her to study his face, exploring every curve and wrinkle, relishing the comforting blue of the irises that fixate on her from time to time with both immense sorrow and affection.
They are both startled from their reverie as the comm beeps to say there is 'a visitor for Lord Vader.' She is further surprised when Anakin, with a look of sudden curiosity, tells her to let them in.
After communicating the same to the attendant on the comm system, she offers to help him back into the helm but is shocked when he lifts a hand to decline it. His eyes are dull and tired. Indifferent to the possibility of prying eyes. And so she leaves it sitting like a skull upon the table as she sweeps the holo puck from view.
She straightens up as a young ensign enters, returning a stiff salute that he offers in her direction. He can be no more than eighteen years of age. He looks terrified and then shocked, his eyes lighting on Anakin's bare face with fascination and disbelief, recognizing the sight as a terrible privilege accorded to a very limited few.
"My apologies for the intrusion, General…" he says, addressing her briefly, "and I am sorry to disturb you, sir. But I...I..." The boy's eyes have settled on the black helm, focused on it as if confused to see it removed.
"You will address me, soldier. Not that wretched... thing."
The vocoder is still operational, but even to her, it is strange to hear the hiss of his voice layer like a snake over the rumbling bass.
"Yes, sir...of course, sir...I just...I just wanted to thank you…for saving my life. You could have left me, sir... And I wouldn't have blamed you. But you didn't, and I...I just wanted to thank you before...before.."
He hesitates.
It is only then that Padmé sees recognition light over her husband's face. From the reports on the attack, she knows Anakin had returned with an injured soldier in tow, but there had been no further information.
"Before what, boy...?" Anakin asks in a dry tone that only she would know was not malicious.
She shoots him a scolding look. The poor thing is terrified enough without him being sardonic.
The young man fumbles for a moment, seemingly still dumbfounded by the sight of Anakin' 's bare face.
"... My girlfriend... She... She works on the med team... She was telling me that they're doing surgery on you tomorrow... And that..."
He swallows.
"... And that there's a chance you might not..."
He hesitates, trembling under Vader's stare.
...
"Survive?" Anakin adds dryly.
The boy nods, averting his gaze as if suddenly realizing he has intruded on a moment of intimacy that he senses but does not quite understand.
"...I—I very much hope that you do... Survive, that is..."
Padmé nods encouragingly as Anakin looks at her, at a loss for what to say to such a sentiment. After a moment, he clears his throat and says a quiet "thank you" toward the boy's downturned face.
The soldier looks up in stunned surprise as if he had expected anything but those words.
"I'll say prayers to the gods for you, sir." He says earnestly. "Good day, General." He says quickly before saluting her, excusing himself, and beating a rapid retreat towards the hallways beyond.
A small, sad smile plays on her lips as she turns to glance at Anakin's still bemused expression.
"And you told me my husband was dead..." She murmurs.
Anakin's eyes linger on the door through which the young man has retreated.
"...It would have been a pity to waste a soldier's life..." He answers quietly, not quite meeting her gaze as if what he has done was merely a utilitarian calculus. However, she recognizes it for the self-deception that it is.
The answer only adds to the bittersweet fear blooming in her chest. "That does not sound like Darth Vader to me." She remarks.
He gives her a dubious look but seems to subtly soften under the comment as his eyes return to the holo puck, now deactivated and hastily hidden behind her. "If I do not wake up tomorrow... Promise me, Padmé... Promise me you will not let our children become the cannon fodder of yet another regime. Do not let them end up like that boy, caught up in a war of our making...a war of my making…."
Her heart drops into her stomach.
"Do not say such things, Anakin..."
His eyes narrow as his gaze becomes sharp and piercing. She sees him swallow hard, the twisted, scarred column of his throat bobbing and pulling strangely with the damaged muscles.
"Promise me, Padmé. Please...on whatever grace you may extend to me...as their father…as your husband…please grant me that comfort…"
She hesitates and then leans forward, placing a hand on his thigh and giving it a squeeze as she stares into his eyes.
"I promise." She whispers, closing her own eyes and leaning forward to press a kiss to the crown of his head.
"But I ask a promise of you in return…" She whispers around the lump in her throat. "…swear to me that you will be here to help me."
"I will try," he answers with a weak smile. It's the first one he's given her since their reunion. And, for just a moment, it gives her hope as they lapse back into silence, watching the rains fall with the last weak light of fading day.
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