The trees of Endor were filled with sounds of rejoicing, for the Emperor had died. The head that had kept the vast Empire together had been severed, and though Leia knew academically that others would rise to take his place, ideally, for just tonight, it was the end of the struggle.
For those who had died to bring the galaxy to this peace, there was mourning-they would always mourn them, most of them dead in their twenties, their lives hardly begun. All of them had believed in more than themselves, and had offered the ultimate sacrifice to see that belief become a reality. And ideally, for just now, it was a sacrifice that would never be forgotten.
Behind her, around a roaring bonfire, Han and Lando exchanged stories with Chewbacca adding amused commentary and sound effects while several Ewoks braided his long mane with beads and feathers. Leia would have joined in, but her heart was not there, not yet. A part of her soul was missing, still lost out there in the night. There had been no word and no sign from Luke since she had watched him walk away. The only assurance she had that he was not dead was that she still felt complete; her twin was alive somewhere.
It was the somewhere that nagged her. She wanted to have him there, in front of her, so she could hug his neck-then slap him for running off so foolishly, no matter what the outcome.
She smiled slightly to the darkness. She had a brother.
The smile died. She had a father, too.
Tears almost came then-would have, she did not doubt, had a stirring on the bridge before her not caught her attention. She squinted, but saw nothing; shadows moving in shadows.
One of the shadows came apart from the rest. Leia gasped and ran towards it. Luke.
Their arms wrapped around each other; an incredible joy and relief filled their souls. Leia drew back suddenly and slapped him-not as hard as she might have, but he did not look like he had had a good day, either.
"I've got to tell you something," he said, making no comment about the slap. Something was very wrong with her brother. Leia took his hand in both of hers-the real one, not the mechanical, and held it tight.
"You can tell me anything."
"I know," he answered easily, still not meeting her gaze. His entire body radiated exhaustion. "But can I trust you to tell no one else?"
"With anything," she answered. In her naivet?, in the joy that they were alive and knowledge that he would not keep secret something truly threatening for the Alliance-the Republic-, she could promise him anything.
And she hesitated only a moment before following him into the darkness of Endor's night.
Once they reached the ground level, Luke took Leia's hand to guide her. "Isn't the floor dangerous?" she asked quietly.
"Not tonight. All the wildlife has been frightened away by the battles. We're safe enough." They continued in silence.
Leia lost track of how far they walked, even of what direction; unusual for her. She was usually so alert that she could tell the time to the minute, but right now, it did not seem so important. She felt very light-headed, almost bemused.
"We've been walking for more than an hour," Luke told her finally. Her vision seemed to clear, but it took a long, long moment to find her directions again. "More than one hour, less than four. That's all I'm going to tell you."
"Luke, what's going on?" He was behaving far too strangely. "And how did I lose track of so much time... Oh stars! You were-you were mind tricking me?"
"It was necessary, Leia. I trust you," he told her. "But I don't know how much you trust me. I have to be cautious. My life is not at stake here."
They had reached a clearing, and Leia began to understand. An Imperial shuttle was nestled in the tall grass. Leia swallowed very hard; she had a fairly good idea as to who was inside it.
"Luke, what did you do?"
"He's unconscious. I put him in a trance. Yoda taught me, but I never thought I would have to use it. Thank the Force I learned it. If I hadn't he'd be dead and-"
"And he should be!" Leia cried, forcing her brother to turn to look at her. "He should be dead and burning! For all the hell he put us through, and everybody else too! He should have died! Luke! Why did you do it? What were you thinking? His life isn't worth saving!"
Luke just stared at her, as if he was completely dazed, but he managed to reply, "That's what he told me, too."
"WHY DIDN'T YOU LISTEN?!!!" She fell on him, landing blows on his chest with both fists. "Why didn't you just let him die? Why bring him here? Why bring ME here?! I don't want anything to do with him!"
"You don't have that option, Leia! You're his daughter!"
"NO!" Her denial was coarse and raw, and she backed away, face set in rage. "No! That-that monster is not my father! He can't be!"
"You know it, Leia! You can deny it no more than you can deny your love for Han! Stop trying to!"
"But... I can't... " Leia sank slowly to the ground. "I can't be Leia of Alderaan and... and Darth Vader's... daughter... they can't be the same... " Then she dissolved into tears.
Luke knelt before her and took her hands in his. "Yes, you can, Leia. You have always been Darth Vader's daughter. Always. You can't stop being Leia of Alderaan. The Alliance will die if you do."
"I want to die. How can you live with this shame?"
"It wasn't easy at first," Luke admitted. "But then I realized that it's his shame, not mine. All I can do is help him atone for it."
"But... he did so much. Our children won't make up for it... ."
"That's not their responsibility. It's his. And he doesn't have much left, Leia. Maybe a year."
"What?"
"He's dying, Leia. You have no idea how badly he was hurt, all those years ago. Or how his master hurt him just before... before the end. Even without Palpatine's attack, he might not have lived another decade."
Though it had caused her so much pain when she learned that she did, in fact, have a father, this hurt more. He was her father, after all, and in a visceral way, she knew that she wanted to know about him. And he was the only one who could tell her about her mother, the sad woman she dreamed about sometimes.
"Take me to him."
"The respirator was pretty much destroyed. I didn't bother to put the mask back on. I don't think he liked it too much."
Leia barely heard her brother, though she knew what he said was important. He had explained his plan to her on the way, and why he had guarded her mind as they walked. So she could back out, and if she insisted on turning him in, she would not be able to find them immediately. Leia didn't think she could do that, though, knowing what she knew.
Darth Vader, though Leia thought Anakin Skywalker was more appropriate now, lay on a bunk in the shuttle's small med unit, his breathing shallow and labored though Luke had placed an oxygen mask over his face. His face was incredibly pale, the flesh a scarred caricature of something that had been human. Huge circles lay under his eyes, sunken in their sockets.
"They were blue," Luke told her quietly. "When they were open, his eyes were blue."
"Like yours," Leia observed.
"That means you have our mother's eyes." Leia had to smile.
"When will you wake him up?"
"After we get the medicine he needs-and I need it too, I think. For calcification. You'll have to do the running, Leia, because I don't think I'm able."
She nodded. Yes, she would do the running, and she would not betray her father to the Republic. Maybe some day, after he was long dead, she would tell Han and Mon Mothma what had happened. When she knew who Anakin Skywalker was.
But now he was a weak, old man, dying as he lay on the hard pallet before her, completely at her mercy. If she reached out and pulled the mask away from his face, he would suffocate. If she lay a pillow on his chest, he would suffocate because his lungs were not strong enough to move on their own. If she simply reached out and put her hand on this throat-just so-would he not die?
It was a hideous, evil power, and she fled from it. He was her father; he wanted to do what was right, to try to make up for something. And if he would rather die than face the consequences of his actions, she could not imagine a better punishment than for him to live crippled and at her mercy.
Stars, she hated him.
It was a simple matter to take a seat on a Republic shuttle and go with it to the medical frigate. If anyone recognized her, they gave no sign; that was fine by Leia. She did not want recognition just now.
She was dressed simply, like every other fighter. They all had one of the two expressions Leia had seen in the past twelve hours: stunned disbelief, or pure elation. Leia hoped she could pass for stunned.
When the shuttle docked, she made her way to a supply cabinet. It hurt her that she would have to steal from the Republic, though she was not taking much. She had already decided that she would not take any bacta, no matter how desperate their father's need. She could go that far; the supply of bacta was so low it was critical.
Methodically, Leia filled a duffel bag with medical supplies, including an external respirator and painkillers. A package of sedatives. A hand that matched the measurements Leia had taken from her father. A few potent antibiotics. The last was trickiest-the procedure for treating calcification of the bones was long and painful; Luke would have to be unconscious while Leia did it. She had thought about taking a Two-OneBee droid, but the thought had lasted no longer than the notion of stealing bacta.
She left the supply room and made her way to another closet, this one filled with spare clothing. She had her own things on Endor, as did Luke, but Anakin... He could not walk around in that armor. Might as well raise a flag and sound the alarm.
Leia chose some very plain clothing, similar to what Luke had worn when he had joined the Rebellion, only much longer and wider. Her father was a large man. Stuffing those and a pair of large shoes into the bag, she made her way to the shuttle bay.
"What about food?" Leia asked.
"There are enough rations to keep us alive. After that, we'll manage somehow. We can always do odd jobs, or hunt. Depends on where we end up," he told her, going through the bag. When he came to the clothes, he raised his eyebrow. "The practical one as always, sister mine."
"Someone's got to be. He's might as well wear a sign that says, 'Here, shoot me!' as that armor."
"I know. Once I dressed up like him for Old Hallow E'en. My uncle was so mad, and I could never figure out why."
"You know now."
He snorted. "Yes, I do. I understand a lot of what Uncle Owen did now."
Luke lay the hand aside. "We should take care of the calcification first. You sure you know what to do?"
Leia nodded quietly. "I'll take off, first, and put us in hyperspace."
"For where?"
"I thought Tatooine, for right now. Nobody is in control with Jabba dead."
"Sounds... hot." She tried not to smile at the pun; he was trying to make her laugh. He became serious then. "Listen, Leia, I'm sorry I brought you into this. But I can't do it on my own, and it just... felt right. Forgive me?"
"You? Always." She glanced at her father, whose breathing had not eased in the slightest. "Him? He'll have to work on that."
"I know," Luke whispered. "Come on. I'll help you with preflight."
Leia sat back with a sigh. She had done the procedure on her father first, because in all honesty, if she made a lethal mistake, she would rather he die than Luke. But nothing had gone wrong; Anakin and Luke still breathed; though Anakin's was just as shallow and strained.
Behind her, hyperspace whirled and flashed against the plastisteel panes set into the cockpit. Endor was far behind, and Tatooine far ahead. They were in the middle of a very vacant part of the galaxy.
The perfect place, Leia reflected. Darth Vader. Stars, what are you doing here? What am I doing here?
She knew the answer though. It was his blood that ran through her veins, and through Luke's. For Leia, who had known her entire life that she was adopted, blood was a very important tie.
Quite unexpectedly, Anakin woke.
Leia stood and went to his side. One hand twitched; his eyes fluttered. Stars, he was weak.
But when his eyes opened, they were blue.
Leia leaned forward and moved the mask away. Her father asked in a voice so hoarse she could hardly hear, "Where?" He spoke on the exhale.
"On a shuttle, in hyperspace," she told him, replacing the mask as she spoke. "It's alright. We haven't turned you in."
He motioned for her to remove the mask. "So sorry... "
She replaced it. "You should be." Unexpectedly, Anakin's eyes filled with tears, and he blinked and looked away from her. Looked back, smiling gently.
"Like... your mother."
"You'll have to tell me about her, sometime."
"Glad to." His eyes flicked toward Luke, who was still quite unconscious, though a bit of pain seeped through his mental shields. "Was he... hurt badly?"
"Yes," she replied. Vader had always been brutally honest with her; she would certainly return the favor. "But don't worry. I stole the medicine, and you will both be fine. We're going to Tatooine. Hopefully we can hide there for a little while."
"Why?"
She looked at Luke. "Because Luke believes in you, and he asked me to do the same."
He did not reply for a long time. They simply remained in the silence, regarding one another. Leia did not think she had ever felt such incredible shame and anguish from one person. He motioned for her to remove the mask again.
"You should... kill me now... while he's asle... " He did not have the breath to finish the sentence, but she understood. She looked away.
"Don't think I haven't though about doing it," she told him. "I want to. But what would I tell Luke? He loves you. That is something I cannot fathom, but it is true. I won't betray him."
"Like I did?"
"Exactly."
"Don't want to be... a burden for you. Not right."
"No, it's not. But neither was you destroying our lives, either."
He looked away, the shame pouring off of him. Leia cringed inwardly. It was not in her nature to be cruel. "I'm sorry," she offered, and his head whipped to look at her.
"Don't say that... to me. Ever." He blinked rapidly. "Leia. Kill me."
"No." Quite firmly this time, and, oddly, he smiled at her.
"Like your... mother."
The corner of her mouth twitched up. "You've said that already."
"It's true."
"You need to sleep. Would you like a painkiller?"
He shook his head violently. "No. Too many... drugs in my life. No."
"I don't feel much pain coming from you."
"Really good shields."
She smirked again. "They'd almost have to be."
Leia was asleep in the cockpit, finally overcome by exhaustion, when Anakin woke again. His world was pain; it flashed red behind his eyes. For a long time he simply lay there, feeling his bones aching-it seemed like his entire body though he knew it was only pieces of his skull, some ribs, and the majority of one arm.
Releasing his pain into the Force, he reached out with it and found Luke and Leia, asleep. He took a moment to explore their Force signatures; they were alike (and he cursed himself for a fool not to have noticed it earlier, but then, Leia and Luke had never been together when he could pay any attention to it), but unique.
Finally, he forced himself to sit up a little. Stars, it was hard to breathe. He concentrated on just the breathing for a long time, long enough for Leia to stir, until he managed to convince his lungs that breathing was something they needed to do.
He hated the weakness; he had always hated it. But, he reflected, that had been part of his problem. He had always been too proud to admit he needed help; though a medical aide would have been an incredible luxury in the past few years. He had done everything himself, though; he had more knowledge about dealing with burn patients and bionic limbs than most specialists.
Good thing, too he thought, glancing at the jagged stub of his right arm, then at Luke, asleep in the bunk across from him. He smiled gently, then lay back down.
He had had a long day.
Teaching his lungs to breathe on their own was the hard part-if you forgot the depression and self-loathing that encompassed him totally. Anakin was intelligent enough to know that allowing a machine to do all the work for the past twenty-odd years was the cause.
With his eyes still closed, Anakin catalogued his injuries. The most damaging was the loss of the respirator, after that, his hand. His digestive system was picky, but not intractable; he would have to be careful to avoid spicy foods. Both bionic legs seemed to be operable, though he could detect a slight hesitation in one. His left arm was certainly intact-he knew this because all the bones in it were aching; there were only two robotic fingers on that hand. He could still hear and smell and taste (though his mouth currently tasted like a jawa had curled up and died within it, he, who had lived without such stimuli for a long time, did not complain.).
Slowly, so as not to tire himself, he stretched his arms up. Breathing was easier now, though the mask was damn confining. Not as bad as the other one, though, he thought, and quit worrying about the little plastic one over his mouth and nose.
Anakin's mind had always been very good; he could remember Obi-Wan's lectures even now, practically word for word. He used the same trick to remember the texts on rehabilitation he would read so many years ago, when he had still hoped to recover some part of a normal life.
The patient must pace himself.
Very well, Anakin thought, moving a little faster. A fast pace.
He wanted to be able to walk by the time they reached Tatooine.
"My head hurts," Luke whispered. "And so does my spine. And my ribs. And my legs. And my arms. And those tiny bones in your eyes. Those hurt too."
Anakin chuckled silently as he leaned over the worktable set into the wall of the shuttle. Before him was the cybernetic hand Leia had pilfered. He had been quite amused when he saw it; his children had not.
"Why are you laughing?" Leia had asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
"There is one tiny problem," he replied, and lifted the sleeve of the stolen shirt to show the rest of the arm Luke had mauled. It was cybernetic to just above the elbow, and, obviously, the hand would not fit on it.
Giving Anakin something to do while waited to land on Tatooine-adapt the hand to his "wrist", though he had to cut even further destroying the one already attached, and to unattatch it, leaving him with one arm.
Between the joy of working with something so complex-though to his eyes, it was incredibly simple-and the progress he was able to make physically, Anakin was almost able to forget all he had done. Sometimes. Like when Leia laughed or when Luke got all bug-eyed. He doubted they realized it, but the two of them had an easy way of acting around each other that was most endearing.
Anakin glanced up toward the door behind which Leia was doing one of those female things he had never been able to understand when his wife did them and did not desire to understand with his daughter. However, when she emerged, she looked very pleased (an identical expression to that Ami had always worn), and sat down across from her father. She was reading something that she refused to let either Luke of Anakin glance at.
"Love letters from Han," Luke prodded. Anakin bit his lip to keep from laughing again. It would not do to take sides in their teasing.
"Maybe," Leia replied cryptically. In the past few days, Luke had tried recipes for Yoda's famous swamp-thing stew, precise directions for how to shave a Wookiee, top ten ways to overthrow a standing government, and hairstyling: a pastry-maker's guide. All of those received an even, somewhat amused, "Maybe."
Except for the one about the pastry-maker, Leia had shown her aptitude for Force-driven pillow fights during that one.
Luke was enduring a sternly enforced bed rest-he had argued with Leia, but when Anakin had given him a very firm no, the Jedi had acquiesced, and now spent his time talking to his father, teasing his sister, or sleeping.
Anakin did not sleep more than he had to. Sleep had always brought nightmares. In his childhood, they had been prophetic dreams, but now, they were simply reminders of his past.
The only thing he regretted leaving behind was the Executor, not because of the power she had represented, but because Anakin had always loved beautiful machines, and she had been one. The Lady Ex, as the crew had called her. She had been destroyed, the holonet reported, without a single survivor. The reporter had gone on to say that Admiral Piett had served on the battle ship since he left the Academy, and how he had been hand-picked by "the late Lord Darth Vader" to serve.
"You look sad," Leia remarked when the report moved onto the latest scandals.
Anakin nodded absently, bending a little closer to what would soon be his arm to make a connection. His pale, bald scalp gleamed in the artificial light.
"They were my men," Anakin told her. "I was responsible for them."
"They were Imperial-"
His look, sad and resigned, silenced her. "So was I."
No longer bedridden, Anakin spent more time in the cockpit. It was awkward, having only one arm and one hand, but he managed to look over the controls. He winced inwardly. He had seen more poorly designed craft in his time, but not many.
He was staring out the window when the shuttle came out of hyperspace.
The twin suns of Tatooine had been forever burned into his memory, and a feeling that screamed "Home" swirled through him. Tatooine had been his first home, his original place. It was where he had been born, and his mother had been buried.
Tatooine glowed before him, an orange-white ball of sand and stone. In his youth, he had hated it and all it stood for, though in a deep, secret place inside him, those suns had always shone upon him.
A hand touched his shoulder. Anakin looked back to see Luke standing in the doorway, gazing at what was his homeworld, too.
He wondered why his son was so blurry. It took a minute for him to realize he was crying.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Anakin asked, blinking rapidly. Luke shrugged and sat in the copilot's seat.
"Yeah. But I'm not."
There was a brief silence. Leia joined them, sitting behind Luke. Her eyes were just as hard as they had been when Anakin woke; only now there was more determination. Anakin understood the why of it very well. She hated him with a passion that was almost holy, and she wanted him to pay for his crimes.
It truly surprised him that she was being so uncivilized in her wants: she did not want him to make up for what he had done, she wanted him to suffer for it. He supposed the she knew he was dying-slowly, and very disgracefully, but he was dying-and that he would never have time to pay retribution. But, stars, the suffering one could do in a year.
Her eyes were like Ami's, the same deep, deep brown. But instead of living with warmth and life and love, Leia lived in anger. My fault, Anakin thought. She could have been happy, but I had to be... myself, I guess. And I destroyed what she could have been.
He turned back to the suns. Son of the Suns, he mused. Yes. And doomed to face fires just as great in hell.
"What do we do now?" Leia asked her brother.
"We can't stay here," he replied. "It would be the first place Han'd look for us. We need to go someplace else."
"I don't know of any place that would be safe," Leia admitted. "I've been in rebel bases for the past five years. I guess we can take out pick of those-Yavin, maybe."
"No, too isolated. We will need certain supplies, which means we need civilization."
"Timmiel?" she suggested.
"Near the Core."
"Kasshyyk?"
"Wookiees," Luke and Anakin said simultaneously, and with identical shudders.
"However," Anakin added, "I had a house once... on Valtuo."
"I've never heard of it."
"I'd be surprised if you had. It's very small and quiet." He paused to catch his breath. "But advanced enough for medical supplies and such."
"Leia or I can find work to pay for things-"
"Not necessary," Anakin said, waving his hand. "Your father is quite wealthy. But we'll have to withdraw everything before the Republic can freeze the accounts."
"How much do you have?" Leia asked curiously.
Anakin smirked. "A great deal."
"With a number being... ."
"In my public account, over a billion credits. In secret accounts, about that much again." Chins dropped. Anakin smirked again. "Not all of it was ill-gotten, I assure you." Exhale. Inhale. "The secret accounts were business ventures-technologies, medicines, ships." Exhale. Inhale. "More than enough for the two of you to survive on. We'll use holonet access to withdraw the funds."
Chins remained dropped. Anakin looked at them, slightly amused. Maybe I'll set up a scholarship... he thought, and turned back the suns.
He was, to those around him, simply a very tall man in a long coat, hat, and sunglasses. The weather was too cold for anyone to pause and peer beneath the hat at his pallor. He appeared as nothing more than the other millions of beings that hurried past him, each one scrunched against the biting wind.
But, oh, how he wished he could open his coat and toss away the hat, to feel the sun and wind and snow on his skin again; to walk from the spaceport to the bank like a normal person...
Like someone who has not spent the past two decades as a mass murderer. Control yourself, Skywalker. You must take care of your children.
He glanced toward Leia, cleverly disguised as a native. No one would glance twice at her, either, thanks to the way she suddenly carried herself. She, too, was hunched, and instead of the smooth, calm face, she wore a snarl. It made her remarkably unattractive.
Anakin slipped his hand inside his coat and pressed the portable respirator to his mouth, taking a deep breath. He was definitely better, and the air was doing him good. During the jump from Tatooine to Althaea (a place far enough away from Coruscant to attract any attention quickly when he drew deeply from the bank), he had begun to suffer from cabin fever.
But this was more than he had dared to hope for! Walking and breathing and feeling the cold! He could have danced.
The bank loomed before them, a tall, granite structure built in the ancient tradition. Anakin stepped before a computer terminal on the outer wall and punched in a few select codes.
"There's a camera to your left," Leia remarked quietly.
Anakin's eyes darted in that direction, noted its location. "Thank you."
He began filling credit chips with all they could hold. Removing such huge amounts of money was not allowed, but Anakin had always been good with computers. The teller protested loudly, but he managed to withdraw almost all of the money before a guard rushed out of the building.
Anakin waved his hand at the man. "You see nothing."
"I see nothing," the guard droned. Anakin smirked tightly, leading his daughter away.
He gave Leia three of the full chips. "We need to hurry. It won't take them long, despite our precautions."
Leia nodded, and together they turned toward the spaceport.
Valtuo had a normal sun and two moons. It was a tiny world with a human majority spread over two large continents. Anakin Skywalker's old home was near the equator on the smallest continent, high in the mountains.
And it was not at all what Leia had expected. It was neither the looming edifice on Coruscant nor the terrifying castle he had kept for a time on Malastare. The house was simply a large house, built of brick and wood, in the old ways. There was not even an eerie gargoyle to peer over the roof.
Nothing would have ever implied that it belonged to Darth Vader.
He had built it when he was younger, before the wars, when his wife had resigned her senate seat and they had come to this world on a healing and teaching mission. It had been her house, really; he and Obi-Wan had laid the bricks and hammered the nails, but Amidala had been the heart of it.
When she died, and when he turned, he had thought to destroy the house, and had even come here to do so. He had been alone; though he meant to destroy it, it was still too personal a thing to share.
In the end, all Vader had done was walk the silent halls and stand quietly in darkened rooms. It had not been pleasant, and in a very poignant way, it had been his place of mourning. He had finally given up and hired caretakers to make sure the house stayed in good condition, and they were paid well for their services, and their silence.
Anakin keyed an entry code and stepped inside. He was mildly surprised by the apparent industriousness of his employees; there was not a speck of dust to be seen, and it did not even smell of old air. Luke and Leia followed him inside and stood in the foyer behind him.
"Are there lights?" Leia asked.
Anakin blinked. "Of course. Forgive me." He stepped to the side and hit a button, bringing to light every room and corridor. "Welcome. I suppose I should provide a tour?"
"I never pictured you as a connoisseur of fine art," Leia remarked. She was staring at a rare painting Anakin had acquired at some point. Most of the best pieces were here, he explained, though one or two had been destroyed on the Executor when she fell.
"Why did you bring them here?"
"Ah, but I sent them. I haven't been in this house since Ami-since I turned."
Leia nodded, peering closely at the painting. "It is exquisite."
He shrugged. "I fell in love with art when I saw Naboo for the first time. This artist." Pause to breathe. "Was Nubian."
Luke joined them to stare at the picture-Anakin still felt that peculiar feeling of longing and appreciation whenever he saw it-but did not seem to take the same measure of pleasure from it. In fact, the meaning of the painting seemed to elude him altogether, "What is it?"
Anakin laughed-just laughed. His dear, beautiful son, no more a lover of art than that beast who had raised him-damn that Owen, damn him to the Seventh Hell! As Leia patiently explained the painting to her brother, Anakin silently vowed that he would teach his son to appreciate art.
He had to stop laughing and breathe.
He would have to teach him quickly. He did not suppose that there was much time left to do such things.
Anakin cooked for them with the food Luke had purchased from the town at the base of the mountain. There had been the obligatory comments about tasteless Imperial rations-had he designed them? No, thank you, I am quite accomplished-Sure, sure. Go ahead.
So he cooked. Leia was off somewhere in the house, undoubtedly going through the things her parents had left here when it was their home-old letters and vids, photographs Amidala had insisted on taking with old fashioned film. Her wedding gown-the only one of her royal wardrobe she had brought.
"Are you making taffori!?" Luke gasped. He peered eagerly over his father's shoulder, practically drooling. "Oh, my."
"I take it it's been a while?"
"Stars, yes! Owen didn't like it, and Beru lived to please him, so... ."
"No taffori."
"Exactly. Oh, my."
Anakin chuckled. Sometimes it was very easy to forget what he had done, and this was one of those times, when he was simply a father, preparing a meal for his children.
Luke watched the meat darken with obvious hunger. "You did not guess?"
The boy shrugged. "I wasn't thinking about food, really."
Anakin waited for his son to continue, paying only half attention to the sauce. "I wanted to know why you did what you did. On the Death Star. With Palpatine."
Anakin glanced at his son, then away. "I had no choice, Luke. None."
Luke pondered that. "You did. You might have let me die, reclaimed your place-"
"Watched my son die? I should think not!" He inhaled deeply. "You will understand someday, when you perhaps have your own children." Another breath. "I think, that if Palpatine had sired a child, he would never have assigned me to retrieving you. Or perhaps he might have. His heart was," inhale, exhale, "basalt. Black, hard, and cold. I don't think he would have loved a son." His glance turned to the upstairs, where classical music was now playing. "Or a daughter."
When he turned to look at Luke, the smirk the boy wore confused him. "What?"
"Nothing. Just a bet Leia and I made."
An eyebrow arched-or would have, had he any eyebrows left to him, but the appropriate muscles still twitched.
"And it was... ."
"Which one of us could get you to admit you loved us first."
"You-"
Anakin tossed an oven mitt at him. Luke just smiled. "Oh, just shut up and let me cook."
Leia took her time exploring the house, going from one room to another, dipping farther and farther into the lives of her parents. The painfully tidy workroom was obviously Anakin's-she wondered whether Luke had found it yet-but who did the room with paints and easels belong to, and the old photography equipment? Could it have been her mother's? The mysterious Amidala that Anakin was so hesitant to talk about. Had she been an artist? Or had it been Obi-Wan's, for Father had mentioned that the older Jedi had lived with them for a time.
It was becoming easier to call him father. She shuddered as she closed the door to another tastefully decorated bedroom-one of four in the house. Father had been a title she had reserved for Bail Organa, who had raised her, though she had always known he had not sired her, nor Sach? Organa given her birth. It should be kept for someone I can respect without reserve, she thought, and Father certainly has not earned that- She stopped and groaned. She could not even stop thinking about him as her father!
With more than a little frustration, Leia opened the last door before the attic room that Anakin and Amidala had shared-though Anakin slept somewhere else now. She stopped as the wooden door swung open, gasping quietly.
It was a nursery.
Leia took a timid step inside. Had they planned on a baby so soon? Had Amidala perhaps told Anakin she had conceived, then lied, telling him she had lost the baby? Had-
She stopped before an immaculately clean dresser, painted in gay pastels. On the surface was a small glass frame, and in it, one of the antique style film-and-paper developed photographs.
A young, devilishly handsome man and a tiny woman with dark, dark hair were laughing, looking at a-
Infant?
Leia leaned closer. It was. It was a child. The man could only be Anakin, which made the woman Amidala, and the child...
"Her name was Emma."
Leia yelped and jumped, turning around so swiftly she disturbed the dresser. The fragile frame rattled and tipped-
Anakin caught it before it shattered on the floor, with a hiss of breath.
"Oh, I'm sorry-" Leia started to say, but Anakin hushed her.
"No. I should not have crept up on you-"
He did not finish, only gazed very, very sadly into the picture. "Her name was Emma. She was our daughter."
"My sister?"
"Yes, your sister."
"Where is she?"
He gestured outside, to the hills. Tears stung his eyes, and he looked away. She felt the thought very clearly. Stars, don't let her pity me, I don't deserve it for what I did to her...
"I will show you."
"How old was she?"
"Thirteen months and eight days. Emma Julinne Skywalker."
Leia touched the stone marker gently. A lamb was carved into it, above her name. The comment was very simple, but anyone who read it would understand. It said, "Our baby."
Leia found herself blinking back tears. "Amidala was devastated," Anakin said. "She would come here every night... to mourn. I came with her." He let out a ragged sigh. "Emma loved this place. There were butterflies that played with her... ."
This place was a tiny glade about half a mile from the house, the grass short because local wildlife trimmed it as they grazed. Ancient trees grew around it, and firefly-like insects hummed in the air. Leia could see how a child, even one so young, could fall in love with it.
"How did she die?"
A long, painful silence filled the empty space before he answered. "There was something wrong with her lungs. We never knew what. The doctors wanted an autopsy, but we couldn't al... allow it."
Anakin sank to his knees beside Leia. "It hurt so much... " he whispered, then began to weep silently.
And in that moment, it was very, very hard to hate him.
Anakin was alone, finally. The twins did not want to leave him alone, it seemed; one or both of them was always with him. He sat on the broad deck he and Obi-Wan had built so many years ago, both of them taking a deep pleasure from working with their hands. He touched the railing-it was beautifully carved with vines and flowers, Obi-Wan's work, and one that had thrilled Amidala to her core. Setting his drink down, he stared into the starry night, and in his mind, the echo of his children's' sleeping thoughts murmured pleasantly.
He could almost see them, as they had been in those long ago days, Obi-Wan short and heavily muscled, red hair and beard flaming. Anakin had loved Obi-Wan with a deep and mindless faith, even as an adult, the faith of a child to a father or older brother who had always been there. And that was what Obi-Wan had been, his older brother, his dearest friend, who had raised him and taught him so much.
Anakin had been very tall and deceptively thin-it was only after his accident that he had started to put on muscle mass, because his metabolism had changed drastically. That alone had made him sick for a long, long time, but in the end, it had been the easiest thing to adapt to. His hair had been a golden blonde, kept short, and it had curled a little, a fact that had embarrassed him to no end when he was younger.
And there was Amidala, laughing while Obi-Wan and Anakin taunted and teased each other, always joking. Those days, when the sun had pounded on their young shoulders, those days had been alive-
Emma.
His thoughts always came back to Emma. He had loved her, too, with a deep, real passion. Her death had come like a blow from a friend; completely unexpected, completely painful. He remembered standing not far from here, while his wife screamed her grief inside. He had just stared at the tiny body in his hands-he had tried so, so hard to heal her! Emma had died in his arms.
When Anakin finally gave vent to his fury and his grief, the Force had cried out with him. Obi-Wan told him later that he had glowed like a small sun as he knelt with his baby in his hands, and that the grass around him had been scorched and flattened with the heat of his rage.
Anakin drained the glass, wishing he could tolerate alcohol. Drunkenness did not appeal to him much, but on nights like this, when two tiny, crystal blue eyes followed his every action, a stupor sounded very good indeed.
His breathing became less labored all of the sudden; his leg no longer ached. With a sinking feeling, Anakin knew why. Stars, he was not ready for this!
"You can't let it bury you." Anakin glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to face the night. The voice continued, undaunted. "They won't let it, either."
"Master," Anakin begged, putting his head in his hands. "Please. I don't need this just now."
"I think you do." He felt a warm, loving presence caress his mind, and unconsciously leaned into it. He turned very slowly and faced his master, who glowed blue with the light and wonder of the Force. "I have missed you, padawan."
Anakin shuddered. "Please, my Master, that title I do not deserve."
Obi-Wan stepped closer, his gaze calm and sure. "My own counsel I will keep on who deserves what, Ani. I am the master, you know."
Anakin smirked, but did not comment. Obi-Wan continued. "I know Emma meant more to you than anything-save Ami, I suppose-but her death was so very long ago-"
The harsh, bitter tone in Anakin's voice stopped him. "She was my child!"
Ben blinked, not smiling now. "She is with us, you know. Her light is pure and true, as her father's once was."
"Mine was always flawed," Anakin retorted. "With anger and pride."
"You have the twins."
Anakin almost laughed. "No, Obi-Wan, they have me. And as far as Leia is concerned, I might as well be strapped to the rack as breathing. Luke-Stars, Obi-Wan, he is a mystery to me. I thought the daughter would be the hard one to figure out."
"He is a very interesting person, I admit."
"I love him." It was said with such a frank honesty that Obi-Wan did not, could not doubt.
"And Leia?"
He gave a harsh laugh. "Leia. Such a wonderful father I have been to her. From the inquisition droid to Bespin-oh, yes, I was a magnificent father."
"You didn't know- "
Anakin slammed his hand on the railing, hard enough to make the wires twitch; despite Obi-Wan's healing presence. "Force blind you, Obi-Wan! It has little to do with knowing who she was! I. Hurt. Innocent. People. I did it every day, and without remorse, and if Luke had not been my son, or if he had been just a little weaker on Bespin, I would still be standing beside Palpatine, and probably over Leia's body! Stars... oh, gods... I can't breathe... "
Obi-Wan ushered him into a chair. "Calm yourself, Anakin. It was always your passion that got you into trouble."
"It was my arrogance."
"Passion."
"Arro-Force, Master, will you argue this point with me as well?!"
"Why not?"
They were silent for a long time, then Anakin said, "I am so sorry, Master."
"Whatever for?"
"Whatever for? WHATEVER FOR??!! Master! I murdered you-"
"Posh. You did what I commanded you to do. I could have destroyed you at any point-you know it's true, too; your strengths were always with the Force, not the 'saber-but I allowed you to destroy me."
"Why?"
"I could not help Luke with you hounding our every step, could I? And I certainly could not have crawled into that X-wing with him, you know. I had to, Anakin, to ensure his safety."
"His safety from me."
Obi-Wan smiled sadly. "That is true, padawan. But come, the night is late and you are not as young as you once were. I will walk you to your room."
"Master, I don't deserve- "
Obi-Wan's look of irritation was enough to silence him. "Walk. Now."
When Anakin was lying on his bed, the wind brushing the limbs of trees gently against the window, Obi-Wan leaned over him. "Now dream, Anakin. Dream of this place, when we were all happy, and of Emma's smile, and how it lit the night."
Amidala was adorable, her cheeks smudged with potting soil, hair hanging in her face. A stray lock fell before her eyes, and she blew at it distractedly, crossing her eyes to look at it. Pots, soil, bulbs, seeds surrounded her, and saplings, determined to make their home as beautiful as she could.
Anakin had pointed out that they could buy the saplings, already planted and thriving, from a greenhouse. Amidala had pointed out that if he even tried to do it that way; he would spend the first night in their home on a couch, thank you very much. She was insistent about the strangest things.
He supposed it was her getting him back for doing the building the old way. It had been his idea, and it had taken a great deal of bribery and flat-out begging to get Obi-Wan to agree to help, but once it was started, all three of them had fallen in love with the project.
Anakin smiled at his filthy wife and turned back to the slender piece of wood he held in his hand. Amidala had fallen in love with the vine and flower motif Obi-Wan had suggested, and so the doors, molding, windowsills, cabinets, and counters were all carved in that way. In the meantime, the weather was warm and they lived in tents, and were simply at peace.
"You're a million miles away, Skywalker." Anakin grinned, setting the wood aside and welcoming his wife into his arms. She slid into his lap with an ease of familiarity.
He shrugged, kissed her cheek and forehead. "Not anymore."
"Wanna go for a walk?"
"Love to," he replied, and they set off towards the woods. There was a broad field that lay between what would be the back of the house and the woods, and in the center of it, there was a tall tree with branches that fanned out, thick and strong. The ground beneath it was layered with soft grass and wildflowers in the summer. They had made love beneath the tree, and it had been beautiful.
But now they were both dirty and sweaty, feeling more like a swim than anything else was, so they stood beneath the tree.
Amidala grinned like a child and launched herself at it, catching a thick branch with her hands and swinging back and forth.
"We'll need to put a swing out here, for our children to play on," she told him. Anakin leaned against the massive, black trunk and watched her play. "Um... three different lengths, I think, so that the oldest can have fun and so can the baby, and so you can swing, too."
Anakin grinned, and a brief vision of him, a baby, and two older children playing on a set of swings hung from this tree warmed him through. Amidala dropped to the ground and kissed his cheek. "What will we name them?"
He shrugged. "I never thought about it-"
"Never thought about it? Never thought about what you would name your children? Come on!"
"Well, between Jedi training-"
"Ani."
"And protecting you, your majesty-"
"Anakin."
"And getting married-"
She yelped when he pinched her backside. "And, of course, taking care of all my husbandly duties-"
"If you don't shut up right now!"
He never found out what she would have done, because he pulled her very close and kissed her. He wondered idly whether the tree was as interested in such things as he was...
They cheated outrageously, of course, to finish a house of that size in eight months. The snow was beginning to melt as spring came, but the three friends were very warm within. A fire burned in the carved fireplace, and heated air circulated through a vent system. Built in the old techniques, yes, but Anakin had included every amenity in its construction.
Obi-Wan and Anakin were meditating, a practice Obi-Wan insisted on, when Amidala ran down the stairs and into the large room where Anakin and Obi-Wan knelt. Anakin snapped out of the shallow meditation almost immediately, wondering what in the world had scared her so much. A spider, maybe? Anakin hoped not. He hated spiders, with all their creepy little legs and hair and...
Amidala was crying. She stared at Anakin very intently. "Anakin."
"Amidala."
"Have you built the swing yet?"
"Huh?"
"I said, have you built the swing yet?"
"I don't... ."
He had never known 118 pounds to make such an impact. She flew into his arms and knocked him over backwards. And bloody hell-she was still crying!
"You'd better get started, Skywalker, because I'm pregnant."
Anakin's eyes opened to the sunlight of summer, and for a brief instant, he reached beside him to pull Amidala closer.
It took him that instant to realize she was not there, and she had not been in twenty years.
Anakin, with the portable respirator in hand, told his children he was going to take a walk.
Luke: "But Father! Don't you think you should take one of us with you just in case?"
Leia: "Alone? Are you sure that is wise? I mean, you're not in exactly prime condition."
Anakin rolled his eyes, and basically ignored them. "I will be all right. If anything happens, you will know."
And so he left, walking out in to the meadow and toward the tree. He felt their eyes on his back the entire time.
"What do you suppose he's doing?" Luke asked.
Leia shrugged. "Getting something off his chest, I suppose."
"He's too weak-"
"No, Luke. Our father is much stronger than you think." And she wondered why she was falling in love with him.
"You've been manipulating me the entire time," Anakin said aloud. He stood beneath the tree, idly pushing a swing back and forth. The house was a speck in the distance. He took a deep pull on the respirator. "I want an explanation."
The wind caressed his cheek. "Can you not accept that I loved you like a son?"
"I should have recognized you at the beginning."
"Should have, but if you had, then Palpatine would have taken steps to banish me more permanently." The voice came from everywhere and no where, almost like it was rushing from all sides to meet Anakin.
"Why?" he finally asked.
There was a warm chuckle. "Shall we simply say that I felt a certain responsibility for your well-being and happiness?"
"If you were there all along, then why am I only now healing?"
The air became thick with sorrow. "Oh, Ani. Even now, you cannot understand the truth."
"What? Of course I can understand it!" There was no reply. Anakin sighed. "Very well. If you want to act like that." He rubbed his temples. "I was hurt badly."
The wind breathed on him, comforting him even as his mind launched into a more creative description of his fall.
Burned, Anakin, you were burned, toasted, fried, baked, broiled, a crispy critter. Not hurt.
"Palpatine pulled me out." There was no disagreement, only a sullen, bitter regret. "My neck was broken; he had it fixed; my arm was gone; he replaced it; my lungs were burned; he spent hours trying to fix them, but they were beyond his-"
Anakin froze. His guts wrapped themselves into a very complicated knot and he sat heavily among the wildflowers. "He- he- "
The wind whispered the truth. His pale frame trembled slightly. "No, no, no... ."
"Oh, Anakin, I am so sorry."
"He-that-the weight I felt when I breathed... It was him, all the time. Squeezing... ."
"Keeping you weak, dependant on technology so that you could not run away."
"Oh god, oh Stars, what have I done? What have I... ."
The wind and the air hugged him, wrapping his body in a loving embrace.
Qui-Gon watched Anakin walk away, many hours later. The revelation of Palpatine's deception had shaken him badly. Qui-Gon's heart ached with the boy's pain; these past few weeks had turned his existence upside down.
Hopefully, it would not be too much for him. He had fulfilled his destiny, as the Force had assigned it, and most Jedi felt that his debt had been repaid when he had killed the Dark One. Qui-Gon on the other hand, believed that he had never had a debt to repay. Everything he had ever done, the Force had directed him to do, and to those as powerful as Anakin, the Force was a thing that could not be ignored.
Yet, the Force was being odd about Anakin. It seemed to think that it had been betrayed, and Qui-Gon was afraid that some sort of penance would be demanded.
Anakin sat quietly, his face giving no sign of the fury that raged inside him. He calmly sipped his tea; he seemed to be taking great pleasure from the book open before him. He had been sitting at the window for almost three hours, silent unless someone spoke to him. Luke caught him meditating once.
After a hasty dinner (that Luke had prepared), the twins watched their father read. He seemed oblivious to them, which meant he knew perfectly well where they were. Anakin was reclined in his chair, legs crossed. The respirator lay at his elbow, and ever so often, he regarded it with a cold hatred. Finally, he closed his eyes and marked his place in the book.
"Leia, I know Bail Organa told you that it is impolite to lurk in doorways," he remarked casually.
Leia actually smirked. For some reason, her deliberate hate toward Anakin had mellowed, leaving Luke very glad, but also very perplexed.
Anakin continued, "I doubt that Owen Lars imparted the same wisdom in you, Luke. Please, do not simply stand there. Out with it."
"Out with what, Father?" Luke asked, but he did step into the room and sit in one of the comfortable chairs. Leia followed, and sat demurely at the end of one couch.
"With your burning curiosity, oh interrogative child of mine."
Luke laughed. "All right. What happened on your walk?"
Anakin sighed. "I knew it would be that, but I had hoped you would ask about something a bit less traumatizing just now."
"You radiated pain," Leia said quietly. "I can feel that now."
Anakin smiled warmly at her. "The Force is all around you, Leia, and it is beautiful. It will welcome you if you let it."
"Welcome me?"
"Yes. Leia, the Force is not exactly conscious, but it recognizes its own. It will scream to you, as it screams to Luke."
Luke coughed. "You're changing the subject. We asked you what happened."
"You're getting better," Anakin replied. He took a sip of his tea. "The first Jedi I ever knew was Qui-Gon Jinn. He was out there, under that large tree in the meadow. He gave me some very disturbing news.
"What was the news?"
He took a deep breath. "Palpatine kept me in need of the mask. For twenty years. Twenty years. Do you know how much concentration that must have taken, how much sheer power? How determined he must have been?" He paused to catch his breath. "And how foolish I was, for never seeing it."
Luke pursed his lips. "Would it have made a difference?"
Anakin thought for a long moment. "A small one. If I had been able to breathe, I would have been a monster not dependent on a respirator."
"But now that you know he purposefully left you in pain, you understand how he lied to you," Leia grasped.
"Put very simply, yes. But it is more than that. He was my master, but Obi-Wan was my Master. My mind tried to make Palpatine fit into that role, because I believed that I could no longer trust Obi-Wan." Inhale, exhale. "I don't suppose I'm being very clear."
"I think I understand. You needed someone to take Obi-Wan's place in your life, right? You needed someone to... love you?"
Anakin sighed, inclining his head in respect to his daughter. "A formidable foe, your highness."
"Thank you, Lord Vader."
Luke was horrified, but father and daughter shared a secret grin.
"You knew all along, and you didn't tell me."
"Would you have listened?" Obi-Wan asked. "In fact, if I had tried to say anything to you after our... fight... what would you have done?"
Anakin shrugged. "Tried to kill you, I suppose."
Obi-Wan's smile became teasing. "Tried... a very good word for it."
Anakin snorted. "Who is the prideful one, now, Old Ben?"
Obi-Wan's form shimmered slightly as he laughed. They simply stared at the stars for a while; Anakin's mind sought his children, felt their ease and comfort as they slept.
"Why," he asked, finally, "is it that Qui-Gon is incorporeal, and you take a form?"
Obi-Wan smiled fondly. "Master was always very in tune with the Living Force, and he chose to join it after he saw that you were being trained. He loves to feel the life and perfection of it."
"Don't you miss him?"
"Terribly."
"So do I." Anakin glanced over his shoulder at his master. "What do you suppose would have happened, had he lived?"
Obi-Wan mulled it over. "He would have trained you, perhaps both of us would have. Very powerful Jedi always had two masters; Yoda did, and your son did."
"I had wondered about that. So why did they leave me to you?"
"To the young, naive, inexperienced just-turned-Knight?"
"No! Obi-Wan... "
"Calm down, Anakin. I thought you could recognize my humor."
"Deranged as it may be... "
"Padawan."
"Master."
They shared a glance, then both began to laugh. Finally, Obi-Wan answered him.
"There was a consensus with the Council; most of them did not want you to be trained, and felt that allotting two masters to your tutelage was a 'hideous waste of resources'. They believed you would fail."
"I did fail, Master."
"No, Anakin. You fell. But you got back up again, and you did something no Jedi has been able to do since the early ages: you denied the Dark Side. Do you know how the Force rejoiced when you did that?"
He absently rubbed his right hand, seamlessly fused to the bionic arm. "I was too busy being electrocuted."
"Yes, that usually does detract from one's powers of observation, I've noticed."
It was raining.
Amidala stared dejectedly out the window, across the muddy yard. She sighed heavily. The day was warm and humid, the way Naboo had always been, but Anakin was not doing well. He would come down with something and felt miserable; her almost nonexistent Force-sensitivity picked up on his discomfort occasionally. He was most upset because he would start sneezing and not stop-the record was fifteen, so far.
Large hands encircled her from behind, pressed against her hips, then up her sides and across the swell of her child. Amidala leaned back against her husband's strong chest. He whispered in an ancient tongue, one that was more like singing than speaking. "My love is me, and I am my love. She lives in my heart, and I belong to hers. She is the star of my morning."
Amidala smiled slightly. She wrapped her hands around his and pressed them more firmly to her belly. She glanced at the chrono-it was early evening, and she knew that in about fifteen hours, she would be vomiting again. It seemed that there was no cure for morning sickness yet.
"I'm sorry about that," Anakin whispered against her ear.
"Don't be, love," she replied. She did not mind the vomiting-well, not too much, anyway. She tried very, very hard to think of it as an indicator that her baby was alive and well, and growing strong.
She tingled a little as Anakin sent little threads of the Force into her womb, into their child. Anakin chuckled, and the sound vibrated in his chest. "She's reaching back already. She'll be so strong, Ami."
"Have you thought of names?"
She could almost feel him blushing. "Lots of names."
"Like what?"
"Uhm-Kate, Morgen, Olivia, Shae, Joan, Jenny, Ellison, Adrian, Lori, Holly, Jesse, Lindsay, Allaina-"
"Anakin, stop!" Amidala laughed. "I think you should let me pick."
"Why is that?"
"Because I have it narrowed down to three."
"Three, already?"
"Yes. Ryo-"
"Ryo, what sort of name is Ryo?"
"It's ancient Naboo for Angel, if you must know."
"Really?"
"And Chi-and it means energy, so don't even ask. And I like Aria, too."
"What does that mean?"
"Beautiful music."
"Oh." He rested his chin on her head. "Why don't we wait until she gets here to decide?"
"Fine with me. When are we going baby shopping?"
She felt him shrug. "Soon, baby. We've got all the time in the universe."
Leia closed the door to her room quietly. Her family was asleep but she did not want to risk rousing them, and she suspected Han would be less than quiet.
He looked rough; dark circles lay under his eyes, but when he saw who had called him, he looked very relieved. Relief faded into a kind of dull anger in his eyes, and Leia's heart ached.
"I was wondering. It's been three weeks, Leia."
"I'm sorry, Han. There was something that had to be done."
His eyes flared, and he looked away quickly. Glanced at something on the desk. She knew suddenly, that he was trying to track her.
"It can't be done, Han," Leia whispered. He blinked and looked at her.
"Where are you? Mon Mothma is worried sick. Not to mention Chewie." No mention that he had hardly slept since she had disappeared.
"I'm sorry. It could not be avoided."
"Bull- "
"Watch your mouth, Han."
"Tell me what this is about."
"I can't get too specific. It's a family problem."
"Family? Leia, Luke is the only family you've got! Are you with him?"
"Of course. We're both fine."
"Everybody thinks he died on the Death Star."
"He didn't."
"Obviously." Han rolled his eyes and sighed. "Is it a Jedi thing?"
"Very much so."
"Sure. Is this a common thing with you, Leia? Do you typically up and away whenever you get attached. I mean, I think I have the right to know. Especially if it means you leave without even saying goodbye."
Leia gaped at him. "I don't deserve that, Han."
"No, you want love and understanding and trust. Well, princess, trust is something I can't just give, got it? You had mine-and my love. Then you left."
Her face blanched. "What are you saying?"
What do you think I'm sayin'?" When she was silent, he threw his hands up in frustration. "Why are you so reluctant to tell me what you're doing?"
Leia paused for a moment, searching for words potent enough to describe what had happened the past few days. None came. None could. How could she tell him that she had gone from hating her father to loving him desperately, and all because of a little dead girl?
"I'm with my father," Leia told him simply.
"Your father? Bail Organa died on Alderaan."
"Bail adopted me. My real father."
"Who is... ."
"Luke's father."
"Who died when he was young!"
"No. He's quite alive. I can't tell you anymore." She reached forward and lay her finger on the cutoff switch. "Goodbye, Han. I love you. I'll see you soon."
Mon Mothma's small frame was immeasurably countered by her commanding presence. In pristine white-though slacks and boots instead of robes, lending the meeting a military atmosphere-she addressed the convened generals.
Han paid very little attention to it. "We must make allies, take Coruscant, the war is not over, yadda yadda yadda." Well, for this man it was! If Leia was out, he sure as hell was! She was the only reason he stuck around in the first place!
"General Solo," Mothma said. "I believe you had something to tell us?"
Han stood awkwardly. "Well, yes, Madam. Actually, I just wanted to let ya'll know, I'm done here. I am resigning, effective immediately. Me and Chewie are headed out at 0300."
Mothma blinked. "I'm sorry to here that, General, and I feel obligated to point out that you are a driving force behind the morale of the men. To leave so suddenly would devastate the pilots. With Commander Skywalker's death and Princess Organa's disappearance-"
"He's not dead."
Blinked once more, and the least political of the group actually broke into amazed shouting.
"Not dead?"
"Where is he? Did he just abandon us?"
"I bet that's what happened, his Jedi ways are too good for us common-"
"Shut up!" Han bellowed. He leaned over, resting his arms on the table. "You are supposed to be the smartest people in the galaxy, and you want to ask questions like that? Well, fine! But think for a second! Does anybody take on the Emperor and Darth Vader head to head and not get hurt? Has it occurred to any of you that he might be recuperating?" Han was stunned by his own epiphany, actually, but impromptu speaking had always been a gift.
"I believe that is all for today," Mothma intervened, her calming presence undoubtedly the wonder of the galaxy. "General Solo, Admiral Ackbar, please remain. I believe we must discuss a few things."
When the rest of them had cleared out, Han spun the chair around backwards and sat in it, crossing his arms on the back. Mothma waited for him to start.
"Leia is with Luke somewhere, doing Force only knows what. She wouldn't tell me much."
"What did she tell you, General?" Mothma's look was intense.
"Just that it was a family problem, and Jedi thing." And that she loved you, you stupid moron.
"Anything else?"
Han shook his head. "Just that she was with Luke's father. They're twins, you know and-"
He was unprepared for the violence of Mothma's reaction. She stood up quickly; her chair skittered across the floor and bounced off a wall. "WHO?"
"Luke's dad; well I guess he's their dad, if they're twins and all."
Mothma took a deep breath. "No. They must be mistaken. Oh, Force, why didn't I-"
"Calm yourself, Mon," Admiral Ackbar said gently. "We had no choice to keep it from him-"
"Oh, yes we did. But it was too politically unsound. And now look at what we've lost." She buried her face in her hands.
Han did not think he had ever been quite so confused in his life. He asked quite simply, "What?"
Mothma lowered her hands and took a deep breath. "We've known about Luke's parentage since he was injured on Hoth. There was no time to confront him. He came back from Bespin so changed, and he was a Jedi. The Senate never questioned the Jedi; held them accountable and depended on them, asked them for answers and their services, but never questioned their judgment. And Luke was the last, we couldn't risk him leaving-"
"What are you trying to tell me?" Han asked her, and his voice was quiet and so very cold.
Mothma took a deep breath. "Luke's father was named Anakin Skywalker, and when I was very young in the Senate, Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith."
The click was very loud and very jarring, and it was all horribly clear. Luke and Vader had killed the Emperor and fled, and Luke had somehow convinced Leia to go with them.
And Darth Vader was alive.
Mon Mothma had been through this before. If she seemed cool and collected, it was only because her father had sat where she now did, and she had sat to his right, with Bail Organa beside her. She had sat beside him and watched Obi-Wan Kenobi's face crumble when Bail Organa told him Anakin Skywalker had defected during battle.
And she had stood behind her father when Kenobi had reported after facing Anakin. His wounds had been numerous, many of them quite severe, and it had been with a kind of resigned dignity that he had told them.
"Anakin and I fought. You are right, Senators; he has turned completely to the Dark Side. He must not be trusted. He fell into a pit of lava. I do not see how he could have survived."
Obi-Wan's reserve had been such a habit by that time in his life that he did not know how to do much else. He had simply stood there, a serene expression on his face. Stars, he had been exhausted and so badly hurt.
Three months later, when spies in the Emperor's palace had reported a very large man recuperating from severe burn wounds, they had all known. Obi-Wan had taken that news much more stoically, saying something about a "lost cause" and having to think about "our last hope."
Mon Mothma knew now that it was Luke the old Jedi had been talking about.
"How did you find out?" Han asked quietly, and Mon Mothma wondered why all the most difficult meetings she faced had revolved around Anakin Skywalker.
"When Anakin turned, we took all the information on him that we had and locked it away. It travels with me. We thought we might have a use for it, someday, some weakness we could exploit to destroy Vader. It includes his basic genetic structure."
"What made you decide to test it against Luke?"
Mothma considered for a moment, her dark eyes darting to the Mon Cal general's. "His name was Skywalker; that screamed at me at first. But then I learned he was from Tatooine, and such names are not uncommon on that planet. I dismissed it.
"When it was obvious that his piloting skills were so advanced, I became more suspicious. But I did not want to believe it. With all the running we had to do, there was never time. We could not confront him with it; because he would either have left the Rebellion and returned to obscurity, or worse, gone to his father. Do you see why we couldn't allow that?"
"Of course. Kinda. If I think real politically."
Mon Mothma sighed. Whatever the Princess Organa saw in this clod was certainly beyond her, and she would pay well to anyone who could place a recorder in the room where Anakin Skywalker and Han Solo met to discuss Leia's romantic inclinations.
"So while he was unconscious, you checked his DNA against Vader's. Then what?"
"We were silent," Mothma whispered. "What else could be done? Darth Vader was-is!-The single most feared man in the galaxy! Risk Luke joining him, and Luke just as powerful as his father?"
Han shook his head. "The kid coulda used the truth. You saw how tore up he was after Bespin; I just heard about it. It broke my heart. You remember how he was before."
Mothma engaged in an intense study of her hands. Force, it was so simple to play at politics with politicians, but Han Solo was not a politician. He used brutal honesty, and it was very hard to keep a calm veneer before that.
Han nodded. "Fine. Well, I'll tell you what. Me and Chewie are leavin', and we're gonna find the princess and the kid and their dad."
"And then what, General? What if they refuse to return with you?"
Han shrugged. "I'll cross that when I get there, Madam. In the meantime, I'm gonna assume that they'll want to come back."
"And if they are Vader's prisoners?"
He shrugged again. "I guess I'll have to kill him."
Leia looked up from the breakfast she was preparing, deep brown eyes turned heavenward. A sense of deep dread settled in her belly, and she felt very ill.
Anakin looked at her worriedly, but by the time, he opened his mouth to ask what had happened, the feeling was gone, and she had no idea what to say.
Luke stretched his slim frame as he loped gracefully across the meadow, past the tree. He brushed the swings as he sped by, making them rock in the wind of his passage, and wondering why the swings held such a fascination for his father.
Luke passed into the shadows of the woods. His booted feet made hardly a sound as he ran over years of fallen leaves, their decay leaving a pleasant musk in the air. He smiled slightly and ran a little faster.
After two miles, he reached a stream and slowed to a stop at its banks. The water was clean and pure, just the right depth for wading, and he knew it would be terrifically cold. A few long, silver shapes gleamed beneath the water. Luke smiled slightly.
Looking upstream, there was a pile of boulders. Luke grinned and took off towards them, anticipating a deep pool on the other side.
He stopped short, though. On the tallest boulder, in the center of the stream, Anakin Skywalker sat, his face in repose. He wore only pants; shirt and shoes were stacked neatly beside him. Luke silently counted the scars.
The one on his throat from a tracheotomy; the long, pinkish one down the center of his chest, when the implants had been put in his lungs. On his shoulder, an odd symbol of a circle cut by a crescent moon. Innumerable battle scars, and a series of numbers on his left arm, stretched tight across his skin, as if he had been much smaller when the mark was made.
It was obvious that Anakin was meditating. Luke just watched him, and wondered what the hell he had gotten himself into.
Anakin's eyes opened and he smiled warmly at Luke. "Good morning."
"Morning," Luke replied.
"Would you like to see something?"
Luke shrugged and climbed the rock. He sat cross-legged before his father. "Give me your hands, Luke," Anakin said, offering his own.
You're holding hands with your father, Luke thought as he clasped his father's large hand in his rather slender one. He wished he could have done this as a child.
"Slip into the Force, Luke," Anakin said, his voice soothing. "And I will show you something wonderful."
It was an instant; it was an eternity. Luke gasped for air when he came out of the trance his father had guided. Once enough oxygen was circulating, he looked at his father in something like wonder.
"What was that?"
"That was the Force," Anakin replied easily.
"I've never seen it do... that before."
Anakin smirked. "Shall we say then, that it is how I see the Force?"
"Why don't you touch it forever?" Luke whispered. "It's so beautiful. Perfect."
"It was my desire to hold more of it that led to my downfall," Anakin told his son. "Though it still brings me comfort, I must not use the Force as frequently as I once did. The Force is our ally, Luke, but it is also very addictive. You must be cautious."
Luke nodded. "Why is it different for you?"
Anakin shrugged. "I will explain some time. For now, however, we should probably return. Leia will be worried."
Luke was paying no attention to the words, though. Anakin followed his gaze to the scars that crisscrossed his chest. Anakin touched the one that had opened his chest-cracked the sternum to get at the damaged organs beneath. "This is the price I paid, Luke. I lost myself completely. Do not confuse this with power. All the suffering I caused, I have felt ten times over, and I feel it everyday."
"Do you believe you are acquitted?"
"No. Nothing will ever acquit me. I did too much. I destroyed the balance, and betrayed the Force."
"So, what happens? When you die."
Anakin smiled. "Then, my son, I cease to exist. It is a sleep I do not dread."
The day was still and hot, the hottest day since the three of them had come here, almost a month ago. All of them could tolerate heat-Luke and Anakin had grown up on Tatooine, and Leia was used to adapting to extreme conditions. However, the humidity was terrible, and only Luke had spent great lengths of time in swamps.
So, Anakin and Leia ensconced themselves in the house, sometimes talking, reading, listening to music. Once, they danced very slowly, as they might at her wedding.
Though Luke had run four miles this morning, he was still tense, anticipatory. Something was going to happen.
Anakin sensed it, too, and he had a clearer vision of what the immediate future held. He watched Leia, her knees folded up to her chest as she read; then Luke, hands restless as he sat at a desk. Anakin closed his eyes, a silent plea to the Force that had begotten him, that his children would be spared whatever fate awaited him.
Luke glanced up sharply. "How-" He stood so quickly that his chair skidded across the floor. "Oh, Stars!" Without an explanation, Luke ran outside.
Anakin and Leia came up behind him as the Millenium Falcon set down.
Han and Chewbacca strode down the ramp, blasters-not surprisingly-raised. The pirate blinked when he saw Anakin, but did not lower his weapon.
"Han, put the blaster down!" Leia demanded, striding forward quickly. Han blinked again, but did not comply. Instead, he pointed it more firmly in Anakin's direction.
"He's coming with us," Han announced suddenly. "I've got to take him back for trial."
"That is ridiculous, Han," Leia scoffed. "What will you say? That Vader is still alive-and that he's this weak old man?" If Anakin bristled at her comment, it did not show. He simply stood quite still, hands clasped before him and head bowed.
"Mon Mothma knows," he interrupted his princess. "And so do I. Was it so hard to tell me, Leia?"
She had to look away from him. "At first. But you can't take him back."
"Why the hell not?"
"Because he's dying," she replied, and her pain was so evident in her voice.
Han's face turned stony. "You may have been able to forgive him, Leia, but I sure haven't. I can't. He put me in carbonite, for the Star's sake! It felt like I was burning alive!"
"A sensation I know very well, Captain Solo-or is it General Solo now?" Anakin asked, and Han jumped when the voice was not the rumbling, menacing bass that had followed him into the darkness at Bespin. "Calm yourself, General." He glanced at Chewbacca. "I believe your large friend is suffering from a bit of heat shock. It would be to all of our advantages to adjourn to the indoors. That is, unless you insist on placing me in your custody immediately, General."
And without waiting for a reply, Anakin turned on his heel in military fashion and walked inside.
Luke Sent to him, //How did he find us?!?//
Anakin shrugged mentally. //I have no idea, Luke, but we shall soon see. //
There had never actually been a conversation between Han Solo and Darth Vader before. It had been more along the lines of "I'm going to kill you slowly, enjoy your meal." Of course, Vader had been much more eloquent, but Han liked to think that eloquence was unnecessary-like tact.
So he sat with slack-jawed incredulity as Darth Vader-Dark Vader!!!-prepared a glass of something cold and sweet for himself and Chewie. The old Sith knew Wookiee, too, and Chewbacca had been mildly surprised when he had spoken it in greeting.
Luke and Leia had settled themselves on opposite sides of the table from Han and Chewie. Now that Han knew what to look for, he could see a slight resemblance between them. His eyes darted to Anakin, who had seated himself at the head of the table and was obviously waiting for someone else to start.
Han coughed nervously. Suddenly, it was much less like arresting Darth Vader than it was an interview with his girlfriend's dad.
"Mothma knows," he said finally, "and so does Ackbar. I don't know who else, but probably the entire Alliance high command."
Leia closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. "How did you find us, Han? And what does Mothma want with us?"
"It wasn't hard to figure out where all the money was withdrawn. And did you think an Imperial shuttle was going to be so inconspicuous? Come on! I know Luke ain't exactly a tactical genius, but Vader shoulda'-"
"General Solo." Vader, Han thought, was being a bit too calm. What happened to all the you-make-me-mad-I-choke-you-to-death stuff? "Please answer my daughter."
Ouch. Said: my daughter. Heard: Leia Skywalker, daughter of Darth Vader, too good for you, you scruffy-looking nerf-herder! That had certainly been intentional. Leia threw her father a glare, and Luke looked like he wanted to be someplace else.
"They want to put you on trial," Han answered, stolidly ignoring the blush rising in his cheeks.
"Trial?" Luke and Leia echoed. Leia continued. "Trial? Execution is more like it! What's the point? Even the Empire recognized the right to trial by jury of peers, and there is no way we can guarantee that, I don't care what jury pool you pick from!"
"Mon Mothma put the Old Republic laws into effect until a Senate session can be called to change things around," Han offered.
Vader scoffed. "She would do better to amend Imperial laws. The Old Republic was weakened because its law system was arcane. It dated from pre-space days on Coruscant."
"And why are Imperial laws better?" Han sneered. "As I recall, those laws made slavery and arrests without reason legal."
"The arrests were legal because Palpatine called martial law shortly after the first stirrings of rebellion. That was his cruelty. Moreover, the slavery was all under the table. Not even I knew about a great deal of it."
"We're supposed to believe you didn't know about the slavery?"
Vader was starting to look angry. Han wondered if it was just him. "Palpatine didn't tell me because I detest slavery. It sickens me."
Han rolled his eyes. "Sure." He sat back warily when Vader stood and rolled his shirtsleeve up to bare his forearm. The pirate swallowed very, very hard when he saw the intricate tattoo on the man's arm, the mark stretched as if it had been put there when the skin was much smaller.
"That's because it was, General Solo. I was an infant when that mark was put on my arm, and my mother had one identical to it on hers. It is the mark of Gardulla the Hutt."
Han cast his eyes down, and Luke radiated sympathy for his parent. Chewie made a rumbling noise that might have been meant for comfort. Leia, raised on Alderaan and na?ve of such things, asked, "Why do you have a Hutt's mark on your shoulder?"
Vader's eyes softened as he looked at his daughter. "Because when I was born, I was a slave, and she owned me."
"You're being just a tad bit silly," Obi-Wan said.
Anakin snorted. "The pirate keeps calling me Vader, and you call me silly. Between the two of you, I'm going to rip my hair out." He considered for a moment his bald scalp. "Or I would."
"You keep calling him 'the pirate.'"
"That's different."
"How so?"
"He's dating my daughter."
"So? When you and Amidala were dating, her father didn't call you 'the Jedi.'"
"Oh, yes he did. As in, 'When are you and the Jedi going to make us grandparents?' and 'I thought the Jedi could use a little advice on fixing things.'" He shuddered. "Even now, I cannot make myself like that man."
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I think your brain melted a little bit."
"Sometimes, I do, too."
They watched the stars for a while, then Obi-Wan said quite seriously, "You must go with them, you know."
He sighed. "I know. I wish we'd had more time, my children and I, but I am the only one to blame for that."
"I'll concede that point." He sighed. "We cannot help you anymore, Ani. Qui-Gon will continue to help you heal, but I'm afraid this is the last time I'll be permitted to talk to you."
Anakin cast his eyes to the ground. "I have missed you so much, my master."
"And I you, Ani." He lay an incorporeal hand on Anakin's arm. "We will be together again, Anakin, with the Force."
"I know, Master. But I cannot forget that it was only my son's love that saved me and would allow me to that place."
Obi-Wan glanced away, as if hearing a voice Anakin was deaf to. He smiled curiously at his padawan a moment later. "I think you need to take a walk, Anakin."
Before Anakin could even say goodbye, Obi-Wan shimmered and dissolved.
The heat of the day had hardly dissipated, and the damp had not lessened at all. The air was thick and heavy; you could drink it. The tall grass of the meadow was wet with condensation and the tall blades clung to Anakin's legs as he walked through the meadow, towards the Tree, through clouds of fireflies.
Qui-Gon was there-not an avatar of his body, of course, just the sensation of love, comfort, and joy that had always been Qui-Gon. Anakin glanced at the Tree, at the swings that hung straight down in the oppressive heat. "Master Qui-Gon?" he whispered softly.
Energy and wind rose to caress his cheek. "Son of my heart, I have something... someone... for you."
Totally confused, Anakin's eyes narrowed. "Master?"
"Just prepare yourself, Anakin. It won't last long. I have to help them, and it will be exhausting."
Anakin blinked.
When his eyes opened, there they were. He knew he must have looked like a complete fool, with his jaw hanging open the way it was, but he did not care. He stepped forward before he remembered that he could not touch them.
Amidala stood there, his beloved Angel, and at her side was a young girl. She appeared to be about six years old, but Anakin would have recognized her anywhere. It was Emma, his little girl, who died in his arms.
"Daddy!" she cried, her face lighting up. "Daddy!"
He meant to speak-the words were there, all that he had ever wanted to say to her, flashing through his mind in a torrent he could hardly understand. He meant to speak, but nothing could come over the lump in his throat. Finally, he just settled for, "Emma!"
"I think we know each other's names, Ani," Amidala said wryly. She stepped closer to him. "Don't you say one thing about being sorry. I will not listen to it! I'll go ahead, Ani, and tell you that we all forgive you."
Again, his voice failed him, but tears came to his eyes. He fell to his knees and looked straight at Emma. Her smile flashed brilliant into the night. Qui-Gon might be helping Amidala touch this plane, but his daughter could hold herself there. Her hair would have been blonde, her eyes blue, just like his, and she glowed with the Force.
"I missed you, Daddy," she told him.
He blinked, reached out to stroke where her cheek would have been. "Oh, Emma, I love you so much, and I never forgot you."
She smiled at him. "I know that, Daddy. Tell my brother and sister I love them, 'kay? Tell Luke I helped him when he was little."
"Will he know what I'm talking about?"
She nodded vigorously. "Oh, uh-huh! He remembers, all right!" She gave a little giggle. "I have to go now. Mommy wants to talk to you. A growed-up talk."
Anakin almost wept. This was what his baby would have been. Her energy was hot as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Love you, Daddy."
"You, too, Emma," he managed to whisper. Then Emma was gone, but Anakin remained on his knees, staring not at Amidala, but at the ground before him. "Ami."
"Anakin," she whispered. She came to kneel before him, turned her head so that her eyes came into his line of sight. "You'll have to look at me eventually."
His eyes darted up to her blue-washed face. Her smile was small and timid, and he returned it shyly. "I don't think I've seen you smile since the Jedi called you back to Coruscant."
He thought back to that time. Palpatine had started corrupting him then, with a blow that had crushed his heart and made his anger a dim, slow-burning flame in his guts. /The Jedi could have saved Emma, young Skywalker, but they did not want to. They fear your children, Anakin. They let her die. /
Ah, how quickly love could be converted to hate. His love for Emma and the near-madness that had driven him after her death had drawn him to the Darkness.
Amidala's hands came very close to his face; her energy warmed him to his bones. "This is what we have, Anakin. These few moments." One hand reached to trace the scar that wrapped from his brow to the base of his skull.
"There are more scars," he whispered.
She nodded sympathetically. "I know, Ani. I saw them when you meditated with Luke." She paused. "When you bathed on the Executor, and on Coruscant."
His breath drew in with a harsh hiss. "You were there the entire time?"
"Of course I was." She sighed. "My beautiful Anakin, don't lose hope. We are all waiting for you, Ani. Emma can't wait for you to get here, so you can play with her. She says she's going to go back to being a baby because she likes to feel you hold her."
He thought he would weep.
Amidala's form became dimmer, and she wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, Ani, I don't want to go! I don't!"
Anakin reached out with the Force and clutched her presence tightly. "I love you, Amidala. I always did, always."
She seemed to nod, though now her spirit was just a vague cloud of energy that surrounded him completely. As she vanished completely, the wind whispered, "I know."
Han was sure that Anakin Skywalker was still Darth Vader the next morning. He was sure because of this: Han and Leia descended the stairs at the same time, and Anakin reacted as most fathers will react. His eyes flashed with anger, with insult, then he looked away, and cracked an egg with more force than absolutely necessary.
Han coughed uncomfortably. Leia fixed herself a glass of juice and stood beside her father. Han, not really knowing what to do, poured himself some caf and stood beside her.
"I am going with you, General Solo," he said abruptly. Leia opened her mouth-doubtless to argue-and Anakin directed his next comment to her. "I am forty-five years old, I am not senile, nor am I insane. In every court that I have ever known, this grants me the right to make my own legal decisions. But thank you for your concern."
Leia pursed her lips, but after a moment's staring contest, during which Han became most uncomfortable, she subsided and drank her juice.
"I'm, uh, glad to hear that, Sir," Han said. Leia had lectured him last night about respect and the proper way to address him, but Han could not bring himself to call the old man Anakin.
Anakin's brow twitched. "Where will this mock trial be held, or are you not privy to such information?"
"Far as I know, on Imperial Center. At least, that's were Mothma and the rest were headed when I left 'em."
"Coruscant," Anakin corrected.
"Oh. Yeah. It's been Imperial Center for as long as I've been alive."
"Yes, and that was largely my fault." Anakin stirred something on the stove vigorously. Han's mouth began to water. Whatever it was, is smelled delicious.
Luke chose that moment to enter, covered in sweat from his exercises. "Morning! Smells great, Dad! Where's Chewie?"
Han answered, "Still asleep, the hairball. I think he found your supply of whiskey."
Anakin snorted a laugh. "Good morning, Luke."
Leia walked around her father, to the refrigeration unit where Luke was drinking juice out of the bottle. Anakin glanced in his direction, and a glass floated to the younger Jedi, a very pointed reminder. Luke shrugged apologetically and took the glass from the air.
"Did you know about this?!" Leia demanded.
"About what? Breakfast, or Chewie?"
"About Father! He says he's going with Han!"
Luke's eyes widened, and for a moment, he could make no sound. "But, why-?" he finally managed.
"Because I cannot live here, pretending that nothing happened. Before, when we all thought I was dying, it was different. Now, I am healing. I am a middle-aged man, though I do not look it. I could live another fifty years. I don't deserve that."
Leia's face was so very pale. "You know they're going to execute you."
He nodded, carefully spooning what he had just cooked into a bowl. "I know. I was given more than I ever earned in these past few weeks, and I thank you for that." He returned his attention to Han, who jumped.
"I have a few conditions, General, but they are slight, and I believe that when you understand my reasons, you will comply."
"Shoot," Han said with a shrug, swallowing the rest of his caf in one swig.
"I want you to erase your ship's flight path. I do not want anyone to know about this place."
Han shrugged. "Sounds fine by me."
"This will belong to Luke and Leia," he continued. "You can sell the property as you see fit, or one or both of you can live here. I don't think it will matter at that point. I only ask that you don't discard the pictures Amidala took."
Force, he's making a will, Han thought, and felt very, very sick all the sudden. This was, after all, his lover's father he was merrily taking away to die.
"All the money may be divided equally between the two of you, and you may do what you will with it." Smiling suddenly, he set the bowl of food on the table and looked cheerily at his offspring. "Of course, in the event that the jury returns with a verdict of 'not guilty', this will all be null and void."
Leia ran away crying, and Luke studied his hands very closely. "I... I don't want this to happen, Father. Neither does Leia."
Anakin's laugh was forced. "When we came here, she was out for my blood. I don't know what caused her to change her mind-"
"It was the nursery," Luke told him. "And what you told her about our sister."
Anakin blinked, but could not meet his son's eyes. "Ami and Emma are dead, Luke, and I, who am responsible for their pain, live, taking joy in the lives of my children."
"I don't think Mother would begrudge you any happiness."
"No, she never would. I resent myself for it."
"So you choose to die?"
"I choose to face justice."
"You know there is no hope of that. You'll never find justice from a New Republic court."
"I will concede that point, but the fact remains that I must go. I cannot live with this anymore. It tears me apart!"
"I don't doubt that!"
"I am going, Luke, if I have to take the Falcon and fly myself. The issue is settled." And with that he walked away.
Luke's blue glare fell on Han.
"What?"
"I want to thank you so much, Han, for making us orphans again."
And with that, he walked out, leaving Han alone with the cooling breakfast. Chewie lumbered into the room and growled, /What is happening with the pup? And why is nobody eating that food?/
The Wookiee helped himself to a massive pile of food. Han noticed belatedly that there was still enough to feed the humans; Anakin had planned on that.
Han felt his bile rising. He was tearing his family apart.
Mon Mothma woke to what she knew instinctively would be the most difficult day of her life. She showered and groomed herself, then dressed in her pristine robes of state. They were reminiscent of the Senate robes of the Old Republic; she thought they might stir a chord in Darth Vader.
An aide bowed respectfully at the door and handed her a report. She signed it absentmindedly and continued to the communication console.
"Freighter, I don't care who you say you are, you can't just talk to Madam Mothma. I can put you through to Madam's secretary, if you like, and you can go through him-"
"Listen, you little piece of-don't shush me, Leia!-you put me on the comm to Mothma or I'll get my Wookiee to put your arms up your-Get your paw off my mouth, furball!"
The young lieutenant hopped to his feet when he saw Mothma standing behind him. "Madam!" he saluted. She nodded and smiled graciously.
"You may be seated, Lieutenant. Please open a secure channel with General Solo."
"General Solo, Madam?"
"The pilot of the freighter who just threatened your life, Lieutenant."
He swallowed very hard, but managed to press the proper buttons. Han's voice came back, "Well, that's more like it."
"Thank you, Lieutenant. You are excused for the moment," she told him evenly. The young man leapt from his seat and put himself far out of hearing range. "General Solo, this is Mothma."
"How do you do, your ladyship?"
"Very well, and you?"
"Just fine, except Leia's not talkin' to me, and when Luke talks he yells, and when Anakin talks I feel like a country bumpkin."
Mothma paled slightly, though no one noticed. "I will clear you a place to land, General Solo. I expect you to use the utmost confidence about this."
"Really? I never would've thought!"
It is a very good thing you are resigning, General, Mothma thought, ending the transmission. She contacted Coruscant port authority and had them clear the landing pad closest to the temporary Republic government office.
Straightening her robes and gathering her composure around herself like a garment, Mon Mothma glided from the communications room to a speeder platform, where she and Admiral Ackbar waited for a private car to take them to the landing pad.
They arrived just as the Falcon touched down.
The ramp of the Millennium Falcon lowered with a hiss of escaping gas. Chewbacca was the first down the ramp, and if Mon Mothma had ever been a judge of Wookiee character, she would have said that the huge being was a bit annoyed at something. Han was next, his swagger somewhat less certain than it had been when he had departed.
Luke and Leia came next. Leia's eyes burned with anger although her face was almost mechanically blank. For some reason, she had forgone her usual white and wore a black sweater and doe-colored pants-very stylish, but not what one expected on the Princess. Luke still wore his black, Jedi-esque attire, and judging by his face, he was perfectly serene.
Mon Mothma's eyes drifted past them and landed on the next figure, one who had haunted her dreams for the past twenty years.
He was not as she remembered him.
"Madam," he greeted her cordially, with a slight bow. "I am honored to finally meet you someplace more cordial than a battle field."
"Lord Vader," she replied. "Though I would hardly call this meeting cordial. I am here to place you under arrest."
Leia's eyes flashed; Luke's darkened. Neither of them said a word. Vader bowed his head slightly. "This is true. However, I hope you would be kind enough to discard that title. It was a necessary ruse at the time. My name is Anakin Skywalker."
"Yes, I know your name," she told him, nodding slightly. "As I know your wife's name, and your mother's. You were able to destroy most records about your past, but certainly not all of them."
To her surprise, the blue, blue eyes flashed with amusement. "I knew you were a worthy opponent the moment you stepped onto the Senate floor, a wisp of a girl following boldly in her father's footsteps. Again, Madam, I am honored."
Shuttle cars zipped by. Mon Mothma and Anakin Skywalker stared at each other for a long moment. "Anakin Skywalker, you are charged with crimes against humanity, and hereby placed under arrest." She said it in a rush, just wanting this madness to be over with, and knowing with his death that it would end.
"Arrest?" He actually chuckled, an expression that must have been impossible for him behind the mask. "Is there some squadron of Republic law enforcement hidden nearby? Or do you believe that you and Admiral Ackbar here are substantial enough to subdue me?" He was mocking them, reminding them of his power.
Mon Mothma played along. She had not forgotten what he was capable of. "I do not doubt, Lord Vader, that if you chose to leave, you could do so, no matter what precautions we took. Men like yourselves do not take the lives of others into account."
He raised a finger. "Your pardon, Madam, for disagreeing. Men like Vader never take the lives of others into account, but I am no longer Vader."
"I do not believe such sudden metamorphoses are possible."
"Why not? It happened twenty-four years ago, a sudden metamorphosis, when I fell and became Vader. Can you not accept that I climbed back up?"
"Do you not wish to take responsibility for your crimes?"
"On the contrary, Madam, I intend to take full responsibility. Vader and I are the same, simply two different ways one man had to cope with circumstances. I cannot absolve myself, Madam, nor do I wish to."
Anakin held out his hands, as if prepared to have binders placed on them. "I wish for you to decide my punishment, Madam, you and your people. I submit myself to your judgment."
Mon Mothma held back a smirk. There was no way he could have expected this. "Actually, Lord Vader, that is something we need to discuss."
Mon Mothma was considered a premier politician, next to Leia Organa (or was that Leia Skywalker?), and she was very good. But Anakin Skywalker had not only survived, but thrived, in the highest echelons at Imperial Court. Mon Mothma had never stood toe-to-toe with him and come away with anything less than a slight headache.
She suspected she would have a migraine before this episode had concluded.
"I will be frank with you, Lord Vader. The New Republic is just that-new, fragile, untried, and quite vulnerable. In all honesty, if word of Jedi Skywalker and Princess Organa's heritage leaks out, the damage to morale be unthinkable."
"And when your fighters start deserting you, the warlords in the Outer Rim will descend upon Coruscant like flies to honey, or perhaps, more appropriately, a corpse."
She winced at his choice of words. "That, exactly, my Lord."
"And what do you propose to give me in exchange for my silence?"
"A secret trial."
He blinked, but showed no surprise besides that. "Please, Madam, do go on."
"Admiral Ackbar will act as the prosecutor, I will be the judge. You will be your own defense attorney."
"I fail to see how this should be tempting." His tone was dry. "And you are hardly an unbiased authority."
"I can be, if I must. I swear that my personal feelings toward you will have no weight on my ruling. Besides that, you and Admiral Ackbar have an equal knowledge of the law. His degree came from the University of Mon Cal, and yours came from the Jedi Temple."
"No, that is where I studied," he corrected her. "The degree came from Dee'han College." Mon Mothma glanced at the Admiral, who blinked slowly. Dee'han was one of the most prestigious law colleges in the galaxy-or it had been, before it was converted into a boarding school for the Empire's powerful children.
"Do you accept?"
He considered for a moment. "Out of curiosity, what if you decided I was not guilty?"
"You could go wherever you wish, under the stipulation that you never mention a word about Darth Vader or the Emperor."
He nodded, pursed his lips. "Very well, Madam, if it helps your conscience to put my family through this mockery of a legal system, let us get started immediately. Day after tomorrow, 0800?"
"Agreed. And keep your opening comments to a minimum if you please."
"Of course."
Mon Mothma turned her attention to Leia. "Quarters have been prepared for you and your brother in the Imperial Palace. If you like, I can have it arranged that your father stay with-"
"I like," Leia told her abruptly.
The older woman nodded. "Very well. I would offer my speeder, but I am afraid it only seats two."
With that, she and Admiral Ackbar retreated. The speeder made an abrupt about-face, largely ignoring small things such as traffic flow, and shot toward the nearby palace.
Anakin stared at it with disdain spreading across his features. "That was once the Jedi Temple. Palpatine made the sanctuary of thousands their tomb, then made it into an idol of his own vanity."
"Why did you agree to that?" Leia demanded. She had been silent, as he had requested, since they had stepped off the Falcon, but could not do so any longer. "It's an excuse, so that in five years when people start to question, they can explain that you were shown due process of law."
"It will save you pain, Leia, whether you like to admit it or not. All you have to deal with now is Mon Mothma and various Republic officials looking at you differently, not the entire galaxy."
Tears came to her eyes. "I can't pretend, Father! I don't work like that!"
He touched her face gently. "I know. Everything you have ever done, you have done with all of your being."
"I don't want to lose you!"
"Nor I you, and if you must be angry with someone for that, then place your anger with me. I committed the crimes. I am the reason you will lose your father again. I'm sorry, Leia."
She buried her face in his shirt. "I can't believe I'm crying on a landing pad in front of twenty billion people."
Anakin smirked. "There are worse things." She pulled away, and he wiped a tear from her cheek. "Don't let your anger consume you, Leia. Anger leads to the Dark Side, and you have as much potential of reaching it as Luke does."
She sniffed. "I'll try."
"There is no try-" Luke started.
"Do, or do not," Anakin finished. "Yoda has been drilling that into the heads of potential Jedi since time immemorial."
Leia laughed shortly, wiping her face. She closed her eyes, and the Force around her settled into a calm, natural rhythm. She was completely unaware she had been manipulating the Force, and she had been doing it since her earliest childhood.
When her eyes opened, they were dry and white, and her face had settled into the pale, marble tone that the Alderaani had loved. She was Princess Leia Organa.
"Let's get an air speeder, shall we?"
"What part of the Temple was this?" Luke asked softly as they walked through one of the higher levels. Most of the walls were bare, Palpatine's decorations having been taken down by either fleeing Imperials or the incoming Rebels, but some attempts had been made to make it hospitable.
"The Masters' wing," Anakin replied absently. "My master and I lived down this hallway, actually... ."
"Where did Master Yoda live?"
"That way," he said, pointing. "Near the aquariums. He liked slimy things and fish."
Luke laughed; behind them, Han and Chewie exchanged a glance. Leia stopped at a particular door and opened it with a key card an ensign had given her.
Anakin's breath hissed sharply between his teeth. He stopped in the door, not following Luke and Leia and blocking Han and Chewie. "What is it, Father?" Luke asked, his face showing naked concern.
"Sometimes," Anakin replied, "the Force can be very, very blunt." He stepped inside finally. "These were our quarters-Master Obi-Wan and mine-before... well, before everything. Before Chancellor Palpatine called the Jedi into the Clone Wars."
A kitchen lay to the right of the door, a small living area to the left. A window took up most of the far wall. On the other side of the kitchen were two bedrooms, and a tiny 'fresher unit was the last room in the apartment.
"It is quite spacious compared to most quarters," he offered. "Though it seemed much larger when I was a padawan." He went to the window and ran his hand along the frame. The colors were different, of course-they had gone from warm earth tones to the sterile black and chrome Palpatine had favored, but there the changes ended. The couch was still in the same place, and an identical desk was bolted to a wall in exactly the fashion as the one he had used as padawan. Apparently, Palpatine had not thought a complete remodeling to be worth Imperial resources.
"How long did you live here?" Leia asked.
"Eleven years. I was twenty when the Clone Wars started, and I never returned because Ami and I were married during that time. We wanted to retire."
"At twenty-two and twenty-seven?"
"Well, not forever," he replied with a smirk. "To raise children."
Leia came to stand beside him while Luke made use of the 'fresher. Han and Chewie sat on the couch and fought over the holoviewer.
"Are you going to defend yourself?" she whispered. Her hand crept into his, and he seemed quite shocked by the display.
He sighed, breathed deeply. "I will explain my point of view. I will not be accused of a crime I did not commit."
"They're going to kill you."
"You've said that quite a bit, you know."
"Just hoping redundancy will drive the point home."
He snorted. "You are quite a stubborn young lady."
"Well, so is everybody in my family."
The sun sank below the horizon as they stood there, silent even when Luke joined them, and Anakin bathed in the moment. Even the presence of the unshaven pirate could not spoil the perfection of the moment. Tomorrow he would have to start preparing his case-namely, how to defend himself against crimes he had been rumored to commit and to explain the ones he had.
He drew an arm up and over Leia's shoulder and leaned his face into her hair. //I love you so much, // he Sent to her, hoping she could notice it. Her face turned up, glowing, tears shining in the dark eyes. Anakin widened his range and Sent to Luke, //I love both of you. //
Han and Chewie had long since departed. Luke was asleep on the couch and Leia in what had been Obi-Wan's room, and Qui-Gon's before him. Anakin sat on the edge of his own bed, staring at the picture he had brought with him.
Emma stared right back.
"I will be there soon, baby girl," he whispered. He kissed the picture gently and lay down.
Sleep came, and with it, dreams.
Anakin was going to need a new hand if this kept up. As it was, Amidala was screaming, he was screaming, and a cheerfully annoying nurse was behind him, screaming, "Breathe, breathe, good! Breathe, breathe, good!"
Her tone, Anakin decided, was something like fingernails on slate...
Amidala released his hand suddenly and lay back on the pillows, gasping. Blood returned to the deprived appendage, and he thought he would faint. A series of pops announced that his knuckles had returned to their original positions.
"Tell me again," Amidala grated, "just why I can't have the epidural!"
Anakin, trying to be the brave and calm Jedi Knight and loving, adoring, wonderful husband at the same time, rose to his knees. "It happened too fast, love. They couldn't do it by the time we got here-AHHHH!"
Amidala had grabbed his ear and was twisting ruthlessly. The nurse began chanting again, and Anakin's screams were of a higher pitch than his wife's. "Anakin Skywalker your voice is the LAST thing I want to hear while I'm in labor is that clear?!"
Anakin screamed again.
When the contraction ended, Anakin was tempted to stay on the floor. Then the obstetrician (a man Anakin thought took a little too much pleasure in his work) entered, and Anakin had no choice. He banished the pain, stood, and grimly placed his hand in Amidala's. As she had said many, many times in the past half-hour, this was his fault, and if she was to suffer, then so was he.
Bright Force, did he suffer.
When it was over with, when his child slipped from Amidala's womb, Anakin's second and third fingers were broken. In his euphoria, he did not notice, but held the tiny person close to his heart as he carried her to Amidala.
The baby lay on the mother's chest, cooing happily. Anakin blinked back tears, but failed miserably. He touched Amidala's damp brow and whispered comforting words to her.
Her smile was radiant and very self-satisfied.
Anakin touched his daughter's head in reverence, looking automatically for the fingers and toes. Ten and ten, and only one nose and two dark blue eyes and one tiny perfect mouth...
A little pink hand wrapped around his long finger. Anakin gasped; he had always thought it was just a poetic expression to say, "my heart has been stolen," but he knew it was real then. His entire body seemed to lurch; in that instant, he became a Daddy.
"How can you love somebody so much?" Amidala's voice was strained with exhaustion and tears of joy, her eyes tired but euphoric.
"Am, you need to sleep," Anakin reminded her gently. She nodded, but never took her eyes from her baby's face.
When the pediatric nurses came to retrieve "Baby Skywalker," Anakin insisted on carrying her to the nursery. He had to leave while they gave her shots and took her blood to test it-he didn't think he could have controlled himself when she started crying, anyway.
So, for about an hour he sat beside Amidala on her hospital bed, just stroking her hair. He was finally able to concentrate enough to send soothing waves of the Force through her body, helping her heal. As he did so, he became aware of the incredible pain of his own: his hand. A little concentrated burst of Force energy, and it was healed.
There were fringe benefits to being the Chosen One, after all.
Anakin fell into a fitful sleep at his wife's side.
Feeling just a little cheated because he woke alone, in his bed on Coruscant, instead of that damnably uncomfortable chair in the hospital, Anakin dressed. His Vader clothes were left far behind, replaced now by sweaters (for he was always cold, it seemed) and trousers. Passing a hand over his bald scalp, the roots burned away long ago, he allowed a shadow of stress to cross his face.
The door opened; a mask stronger than the one he'd worn for so many years resumed it's place, and he smiled congenially at his son.
Oh, he loved Luke, and loved him with a fury that frightened him sometimes, but it was very hard not to stare at his right hand. It was hard not to break down, weep, and beg for forgiveness.
Leia emerged from her bedroom; Anakin's chest tightened at her beauty. How wonderful she was, and how blessed he was to have been given her love! She, much like he had done, had never been satisfied with half-truths and political back-stabbing, though she played the game as well as he had. She had been glad to forgive him, and glad to love him.
What of the crimes he had committed against Leia? Murdering her adopted mother-he had not held the blaster, true, but he had given the order to raid; torturing her-Tarkin's command, but had he not been a participant, despite his reluctance?
The more Anakin thought about his children, the more reasons he found to hate himself.
The door chimed at precisely 0931 that morning, and when Luke answered it, a bored looking official placed a datadisk in his head. "Sign here," he said. Luke raised an eyebrow and scrawled his name. The door slid shut behind him.
Written simply in Mon Mothma's precise hand was, "Charges."
Luke let out a breath. Anakin took the disk from him. "She works very quickly," was his only comment as he inserted it into the computer. The list that came up was prefaced by a document in lawyerese-the language of lawmakers-but the list itself was quite substantial.
Anakin grunted. "It seems she omitted the more spurious charges."
Leia peered over his shoulder. "They're charging you for the destruction of Alderaan?"
Anakin made a disgusted noise. "That is something I shall have to prove I did not do."
Luke and Leia shared a glance.
"And I see no mention of the Irihan Plagues... ."
"What did they have to do with you?" Leia asked.
"I was there once, trying to keep down rebellion, and the dissenting faction contracted a virus that spread throughout the population. It killed millions, and I was the only black-garbed evil-doer nearby, so I made a convenient scapegoat."
Anakin was genuinely surprised by the location of his trial, but he supposed he should have guessed. The Force was being blunt again.
The tallest point on Coruscant was also the oldest-old buildings were demolished and newer, more modern ones built on a daily basis. But the Jedi Temple had stood as it did now for a long, long time, and except for Palpatine's brief residence, it had always been the Jedi Temple, and the spire at its peak had always been the Council chambers.
A plain round table had replaced the Council's seats and the Emperor's throne. Mon Mothma sat on one side, facing the door. There was a simple recording device and a small computer at her elbow. Her hands were folded serenely on the table before her.
The Mon Cal admiral stood and stared at Anakin as he entered. Anakin nodded to him in deference, then gave a polite bow to Mon Mothma. The woman's eyes widened slightly when Luke and Leia entered behind him.
"I thought this was to be a private matter," Ackbar remarked.
"It is private, Admiral," Anakin said, taking a seat at the table. "I do not believe my children constitute a security risk, do you? And besides, they seem to have taken a personal interest in the affair."
Mon Mothma's emotions flowed across the Force, and Anakin could not resist replying. "No, I can't imagine why they would care, either. After all, it is execution we're talking about is it not?"
"Stay out of my mind, Lord Vader," Mon Mothma hissed in an icy tone. Anakin suppressed a smirk and nodded.
"I assure you, Madam, that I was nowhere near your mind. You are a very powerful broadcaster; most effective leaders are."
"I have no desire to discuss my Force sensitivity." She was almost haughty about it.
"As you wish, Madam. Could we perhaps discuss a few more specific points of this agreement?"
"Certainly. Where would you like to begin?"
"How about execution? What means of death do you see fitting for Lord Vader?"
Her eyes had been cold before; now they were the depths of space, and Anakin understood how strong the civil war had made this woman, and how she had kept the Rebellion from falling to pieces. "Fitting? The only fitting execution would be suffocation. However, because I believe firmly in upholding the statutes of cruel and unusual punishment, it will probably be a blaster bolt to the head."
"And who shall pull the trigger?"
Her entire aura firmed. "I will."
"You've never killed before, have you?"
"I have, once."
"I am sorry."
"So am I."
"I have only one request, Madam."
"What is that?"
"If you decide to forego taking my life yourself and use some other means of euthanasia, I ask only that you do not choose fire. I don't think I could stand that."
She nodded. "That is far from unreasonable, my Lord."
"Please, call me Anakin, or Skywalker. Stars, I'd be thrilled with Mr. Happy, but please do not call me Vader."
Mothma laughed in spite of herself, then glared at Anakin for making her exhibit emotions that might be construed as sympathy toward him. "Are there any other questions, Mr. Skywalker?"
"Am I to call you 'your honor?'"
"That will be quite unnecessary."
Anakin nodded. "Well, then, let's proceed."
Ackbar stood. "We all know why we are here. Anakin Skywalker, also known as Darth Vader, has admitted guilt to a slew of crimes, but there are still more of which he stands accused. I believe it should be our goal to discern precisely how guilty he is, and sentence him accordingly."
The Admiral took his seat; Anakin could feel Leia wanting to jump up and bellow a retort. Anakin pushed down his own irritation-they might as well shoot him now and bloody Mothma's slender hands-and stood to make his retort.
"I will not deny your statement, Admiral. For two decades I lived as a Sith Lord; that is, the darkest of the Jedi; perhaps the darkest thing a human being can become. I committed crimes that haunted my dreams when I still wore the mask. However, as you pointed out, Admiral, there are many crimes associated with me that I never committed, or never took part in. I would like to explain those events, and perhaps shed some light on the crimes of which I am guilty. There are so many questions from the time just after Palpatine's rise to power, and I am perhaps the only person capable of answering them.
"Moreover, it is well nigh insulting to be considered guilty of certain crimes. I believe molestation was on the list you provided, as was rape. I will state right now that such a thing is not only repulsive to me, it is impossible."
Mon Mothma interrupted him. "I had planned on getting those charges out of the way first. If Admiral Ackbar has nothing to say to begin the prosecution, you may certainly continue." The Mon Cal shook his head, and Mothma nodded in Anakin's direction.
"This is a relief, Madam. I was genuinely distressed when I read those two items. I never thought that I was suspect of such a base and vile crime."
"Why was it impossible for you to commit them?"
"When I fell," Anakin answered easily, "I was extensively burned. I was also, er, emasculated. Almost totally."
"Oh." Mothma was blushing to the roots of hair. "I believe that is reason enough to drop those particular charges."
Anakin nodded and resumed his seat. "Thank you, Madam. I am sure you understand my unease."
"Certainly." She made a note on the computer. "Now, let us begin."
The recording device whirred softly; a quiet melody beneath the accusations and defending. It was almost lulling, and because he cared less for the outcome of this trial than he did for explaining his actions, he allowed himself to be lulled by it.
Ackbar was easy enough to follow without listening, and Mon Mothma did more nodding in agreement than she did speaking. Her words were just as ambiguous as any politician's, but her slight Force sensitivity and her predisposition to Send made her a very interesting study.
Of course, she would never have been a Jedi; she might have been taken in young adulthood to receive a few lessons on how to shield, but nothing more. She was not quite strong enough for that, but Anakin did not doubt that her children, if she would ever thaw a bit, would have Jedi potential.
Anakin forced his attention back to Ackbar's words. He had respected Ackbar on the battlefield, of course, but had never spoken with the being in person. Ackbar was intelligent-he would have to be, to pass the University of Mon Cal's legal program. Anakin was trying very hard to stay awake; he had resorted to counting tiles in the floor (of which there were 195 in his line of sight).
/How can you be so calm?/
It was Luke, of course; Leia could not Send quite so precisely. Anakin's dark blue eyes flickered toward his son. /What could I possible gain by raging?/
/Don't do that./
/Do what?/
/Go all ultra-civilized. You're not enjoying this./
/If I were, you would know I was truly insane./
There was silence from the boy, but he knew Luke was still there. Ackbar had finally come to a place where Mothma required Anakin's more complete attention.
"What exactly," she concluded, after what Anakin assumed had been a very long-winded and impressive speech, "was your role in the Jedi Purges?"
"I was in a coma during the first part of it, and physical therapy when Palpatine led stormtroopers into the Temple... here. I watched the holos they made of its destruction. After I had recuperated, I led missions to find hidden Jedi and destroy them."
"You played no role in the actual invasion of the Temple and the slaughter of the Jedi here?"
"No, I did not. I learned many years later that Palpatine had been unsure of my loyalty and did not feel it necessary to test it so harshly."
"He believed you would turn on him if you saw what happen?"
Anakin nodded. "I lived in the Temple for most of my life. What they did here was an insult to everyone who ever touched the Force. Palpatine had his soldiers defecate in the sacred places; the yslamiri were everywhere, and they raped everyone they could get their hands on."
Mothma's face went pale, and she noticed Anakin's knuckles were white, he was clutching the edge of the table so tightly.
"Then we shall count you innocent for the Temple murders?"
He snorted. "Not innocent, but not guilty."
Mothma shrugged. "Very well. I'll not argue moral philosophy with you; I do not have a degree in it." Anakin heard the unspoken conclusion to that sentence, "but you do."
Anakin looked out the windows, over Coruscant's impressive cityscape. "I took the lives of 2,486 Jedi over the course of twenty-four years," Anakin told them. He heard Leia's gasp, and almost wept when Luke withdrew from his mind. "Two-hundred and forty of them had blue eyes; 576 had green eyes. The first was Ahanna Colverie, the last was Obi-Wan Kenobi, and the eighteenth was Mace Windu. He had brown eyes, by the way. I've never forgotten the faces of those I've killed, Madam."
It was after noon before Mon Mothma called a halt to the day's proceedings. "As much as I would like this unfortunate business to be passed," she told them, "there are other matters that require my attention. I hope you do not object, Mr. Skywalker?"
Anakin shook his head. "So, we will meet in the mornings?"
Mothma nodded, gathering her things. "I would ask, out of courtesy, that you do not go off-planet without telling us. You are, of course, not under official arrest, but should you go missing... ."
"You will be forced to take steps, yes, I understand." Anakin stood and bowed in her direction. "Madam, Admiral. Until tomorrow."
When Leia cringed only slightly as she took his arm, he thanked the Force. Her aura was still cold, shocked, and aloof, and Luke was trying very hard not to think about the Jedi.
Anakin and his children walked in silence to their quarters, and the silence became hurtful once the door had swished closed behind them. Finally, Leia broke it. "How could you?"
Anakin had been prepared for anything except that. He did not know the answer. He had not been in his right mind during those years, when he had still been drunk with the power and the lust he had discovered in Darkness, and when destroying those who had not saved his Emma's life had seemed like a fine idea.
He could not look in his daughter's eyes, because they looked past his and into his soul. He finally settled for a shrug. "I don't know. I don't think I concentrated too much on the why of it."
Leia did not seem happy with that answer. "Almost three thousand people are dead, at your hands, and you 'didn't concentrate on the why of it.'" She shook her head. "Please, Father, tell me there was some reason, even if you can't find the words for it."
Anakin glanced at Luke, then at Leia, then out the windows. "There were reasons."
"Name one. Just one."
He thought for a moment. There were, of course, hundreds of reasons for the things he had done, but the Purges had remained a dark spot in his mind. He had not thought about why at the time; his Master had said, "go," and Anakin, Vader, had gone. Willingly, with lightsaber ignited and all the powers of the Chosen One drawn to bear.
"At first," he told her quietly, "I did it because I was hurting for Emma; then I did it because I hated Obi-Wan, who had crippled me; then I did it because I could; then I did it because it was a habit. I was a Sith, Leia. It's more than a belief structure. It is how and why you live."
Leia's eyes filled with tears, but she was strong and stubborn enough to blink them away. Instead, she pivoted on her heel and allowed the door of the fresher to slam closed behind her. Luke stood with his back to his father, staring out the window. Speeders flew by, even at this height. As a child, their flight had fascinated him.
Feeling quite like a specimen of garden slug, Anakin turned toward his room. He intended to meditate until tomorrow morning, hopefully staving off the dreams. The happiest moment, Emma's birth, was past, and he knew that her illness was soon to come. That was something he did not think he had the strength to relive.
"Father."
The word, a mere whisper, stopped him as surely as a steel wall. Hands hanging still at his sides, Anakin stopped, but did not turn to face his son.
"Did they cry out for mercy, Father?" he asked. Anakin swallowed a wail of grief; he really needed to meditate, otherwise he would be a puddle of emoting goo before long...
"Did they?"
Stars, Luke could be just as forceful as Amidala when he chose. Anakin nodded slightly, knowing his son would feel the assent.
"Then what made it different, Father? I, too, called for mercy, but you gave it to me. What did it matter? That I carry your blood?"
"Would you rather I had stood still?" he dared to ask quietly, finally turning around. Luke shook his head.
"No. What you did... it was more than I ever expected."
"When? When I killed the Jedi, or when I killed Palpatine?"
Luke shrugged. "I don't know, Father. I think this brings up more questions than either of us are willing to answer just now."
Anakin nodded. "I will understand... if you choose to leave."
Luke's horrified face filled his eyes. "I would never do that! I won't leave you to face this alone; Leia can help you be human, but somebody's got to help you be Jedi-"
Anakin stepped forward, and before the boy had a chance to even think about being recalcitrant, he pulled him into an embrace. Anakin closed his eyes, thanking the Force for this marvelous boy.
"I never wanted anything more than I wanted you to live, Luke," he whispered. "My child's death turned me to the Dark, it took the threat of the same thing to bring me back. Please, don't go."
"I won't," Luke responded, slowly lifting his arms to return the embrace. Anakin rejoiced.
Anakin had been meditating for almost three hours and showed no signs of emerging from his chambers. Luke and Leia shared an early dinner and cleaned up what little mess had been made. The sun sank through the polluted sky and behind the huge spires.
Lights went down all over the city as the twins for whom the galaxy had held its breath drank warm tea and watched the stars come to life. Their hands curled around each other's without their knowing; a reflex they had learned in their mother's womb.
Leia set her cup on the desk and released her brother's hand. Luke's eyes followed her as she paced restlessly.
"Sometimes I don't know whether to hate him or to love him. And sometimes I do both so much that it hurts. And sometimes I can't do either, and that hurts, too."
Luke nodded. "I know, Leia. But you must remember that hate is-"
"Of the Dark Side, yes."
Luke said nothing.
Leia's hand went over her heart, clutching it, almost in pain. "He's going to die, Luke! Mon Mothma is going to kill him! I don't want to lose my father!"
"Nor do I," Luke replied. He wrapped her in a warm embrace. Her shoulders shook against him. "Let it out, Leia, let it out. You can't let it simmer. That's when you hurt people and not just yourself."
And so she wept.
"Ill-advised this is."
Obi-Wan forced himself not to roll his eyes. Everything involving Anakin was "ill-advised" or "listening to the Force, he was not."
"Ill-advised, but necessary," Qui-Gon replied.
"Oh-ho! Great faith you have always had! Great faith brings great disappointment!"
"Anakin survived, and he did bring balance."
"And what the cost of balance, hmmm? What the cost? Ten thousand lives, hmmm?"
"Leaving Luke and the Jedi he will discover without a teacher."
"Better to discover the Secrets-"
"Master Yoda."
"Than learn them from one who followed the Dark Path!"
Had he breath, Obi-Wan would have sighed. Yoda was the wisest of Jedi, but he was also an absolutist. Example: Once you start down the Dark Path, forever will it dominate your destiny. According to Yoda, it was not Anakin Skywalker who had wept over the crimes he had committed, but Darth Vader who was having an emotional crisis.
"And how easy is it to stumble onto the Dark Path, Master? Darkness is the easier way. The new Jedi will find it first, and what will the cost be then?"
Yoda was silent.
"They need guidance."
"Guidance we can provide."
"How long will it take to rebuild the Jedi if we manipulate from the afterlife, Master Yoda? A century? Two? More? Other things are coming, Master, and the Jedi are vital to preventing their victory."
Yoda huffed.
"Ill-advised this is, but not forbidden. Jadei, the Founder of the Order, has allowed it."
Obi-Wan's presence flashed with amazement.
"I will go to Luke immediately."
"You will not! Anakin must answer for his crimes! Only when the decision has been made will you take this boon to them!"
And Yoda told them how Anakin Skywalker was to be punished. Obi-Wan gasped; Qui-Gon recoiled in terror.
"Master, that is... Is it even possible?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Possible, yes. Unpleasant, yes. But necessary. Allowed to walk free, he must not be."
Obi-Wan bowed. "Very well, Master Yoda. It shall be done as Master Jadei has commanded."
Yoda huffed again. "Of course it will be."
Anakin was up before the sun the next morning, his spirits somewhat lightened. It seemed that he had been hanging over a precipice the past few days, and now he was over solid ground again. Something, at least, was more definite again.
Luke and Leia felt it, too. Their moods were brighter, less tense. Leia kissed his cheek when she emerged for breakfast, and Luke was actually whistling when he returned from the gym.
Somehow, their conversation turned to Han. Leia blushed prettily but looked her father and brother squarely in the eye.
"I don't think it's any of your business," she told them, eating primly, though the effect was somewhat ruined because she had pulled her legs up to her chest.
"It is very much our business," Luke replied. Anakin had despaired of ever teaching him anything beyond the most rudimentary table manners, and he winced as Luke leaned across the table for a seasoning. "We're your family."
Leia shrugged. "Pass the salt?" she reminded, and it was Luke's turn to blush. "Whatever Han and I do is between us. After all, I never asked what you and Daria did, did I?"
"That's because you were jealous."
Leia scoffed; Anakin simply looked confused. "Jealous! You are my brother!"
"We didn't know that then!"
"Who is Daria?"
Leia laughed, and Luke turned a deeper shade of red. "Daria was a pilot who flew with Rogue Squadron before she was transferred to intelligence." Leia started to say more, but bit her lip.
"What is it?"
Luke glanced away. "She was, uh, stationed on Executor for a while. She was supposed to, uh, look for an opportunity-"
"To kill me?"
The twins wore an identical expression and were an identical shade of red. Anakin hoped his pigmentation was not so fickle.
"Did she leave before Endor?"
"Oh, yes," Leia answered, glad to move beyond that moment. "She was on the command ship with Mon Mothma. Daria is quite high in the ranks, now, but for a while, she and Luke were quite serious. Or quite casual. It depends on your definition."
"I don't think I needed to know that," Anakin replied. Luke was absolutely flaming now.
"Leia, you don't just tell our father something like that!"
"Are you embarrassed?" Leia asked sweetly.
"Not as embarrassed as you'll be when I tell him about the time you and Han spent two days 'cleaning' the Falcon-"
"Nobody was supposed to know about that! Who told?"
"Threepio, of course."
Her eyes narrowed. "Why, that gossiping little bucket of bolts! I'll wipe his memory the next time I see him!"
Anakin was trying very, very hard not to laugh. Their banter continued back and forth, with both of them pretending to be outraged at the other, but in the end, they were laughing so hard the breakfast was forgotten.
After yesterday's near disaster, Anakin was almost relieved when Mothma brought up the charges for the day. Specifically, it was another charge of a horrendous murder, this time for 200,000 Falleen who had died in the sterilization process after an accident.
Anakin, Vader, had run a biological laboratory on Falleen. Unbeknownst to him, at the time, the local government had abused his good graces, and had used the money he supplied to research biological weapons. When an unexpected breach had occurred in the sterilization process, so had an outbreak. Vader had been left with two choices: let the bacterial infection run its course and kill the entire planet, and possibly escape to another system, or destroy the infected population. It had not been a difficult choice, and his rage at the Falleen government had made it all the easier.
Ackbar stated the most commonly believed facts, and Anakin felt Leia and Luke withdrawing again. The rumor was quite simple: Vader had wanted a biological weapon, and when things had gone wrong, he wiped the slate clean. Completely, and gleefully, if the more slanderous of the Imperial holomedia was to be believed.
Anakin explained very carefully what had happened. "I did establish the research facility on Falleen." His voice was even and calm, not nearly as raw as it had been yesterday. "But it was not created to invent biological weapons."
"Why did you found it?" Mothma asked.
"Initially, to research respiratory problems; the facilities on Coruscant are excellent but were hindered by bureaucratic shuffling. I hired most of the biologists and doctors at the Falleen lab. Other... issues arose, and I was forced to turn my attention away for a time. It was then that the outbreak occurred, and I learned three hours after I arrived in-system to manage the situation that the Falleen government had taken over the laboratory. They were the ones manufacturing bacterial weapons."
"And the sterilization process?"
"Are you familiar with triage, Madam?"
"I have never practiced it, no."
"I did. There were 200,000 Falleen in the city where the lab was, and when the bacteria escaped, they were all doomed. The city was a collection of slums and hovels, with a palace or two in between. A disease can move very rapidly in such conditions. That city was impossible to save.
"And it was separated by jungle from the nearest settlements; all persons attempting to leave were stopped, and we tried to find a cure. The particular strain of bacteria worked very quickly, though, and the first to become infected, the medical staff, started dying. Half the city was dead before I ordered the lasers to destroy the city. It had to be completely sterilized, because that particular strain of bacteria can live outside a body."
Mothma nodded. "It seems I cannot find you guilty for that crime. You acted as an Imperial officer and as a governor. This charge is dismissed." She made a note on her computer.
"Shall we move on?"
Amidala's favorite place was a representation of Naboo as it had been long before the Trade Federation had even come into being. She had been deliriously happy living with Anakin and Ben on Valtuo, until Emma had died. For a while, they had been happy again, then Anakin had turned. Amidala had decided to wait until Anakin was with them to return to Valtuo.
In her own, most romantic illusions, Amidala had thought the twins had been created during those last days of contentment. She knew now that she had been wrong. Anakin's fall had been quick and sudden, and it seemed that only when they were in their bed was he his old self. He had seemed almost frightened by his power, she now knew, and their love had been desperate and frantic. It had been during one of these times that Luke and Leia had come into being.
Amidala smiled at her daughter as she ran in the wildflowers. Emma was perfectly safe in this existence, but Amidala never let the child out of her sight. It made her feel better to watch her play and laugh.
She felt Obi-Wan's presence approaching. He shimmered and appeared before her, dressed as she would always remember him. He was a middle-aged man who had grown a beard and let his hair go long. He had always been Anakin's Master to her, a brother-in-law.
"Hello," Amidala greeted him. He smiled weakly and grunted as Emma slammed into his legs. She squealed when he tickled her.
"There's the munchkin!" he cried. She laughed helplessly.
"Nooo! Uncle Ben! Stop! Please!"
Obi-Wan complied and let his tiny captive escape. She sprinted away through the flowers, still laughing, as Obi-Wan came to sit beside Amidala.
"It can't be good," she observed.
"It's not," he replied. He plucked a blade of grass and rolled it between his hands. "The Elders have decided what to do about Anakin."
Amidala felt a cold hand clutch her heart. Her voice was strained. "What?"
"I'm not at liberty to say. But it won't be pleasant."
"Why can't you tell me? I can't talk to Ani."
"Emma can." He nodded in the girl's direction. "Ami, I could lie and say he's getting off easy, but he's not. This is the worst thing I've ever imagined happening. I don't know how he'll live with it."
Amidala glanced at Obi-Wan. "So, he'll live?"
"It that's what you want to call it."
Emma squealed in delight as Jar Jar Binks made an appearance. The clumsy Gungan tripped over his own feet, then he and Emma wrestled in the grass for a while.
Ben sighed. "Do you ever think, Ami, that the things we do are mistakes?"
"Sometimes," she replied with a shrug. "My biggest would have been on Coruscant, when I talked to the Senate."
"Mine would have been agreeing to train Anakin."
"Your master asked you as he died, Obi-Wan, you couldn't refuse."
"Oh, yes I could. But I didn't, and now this is happening. How am I supposed to look at him afterwards?"
"The same way he looked at you, I suppose. Personally, I think all of this cancelled out."
"That's easy for you, Ami. You didn't do anything."
"I lied to my husband."
"Petty."
"I hid his children from him."
"I helped you-in fact, I talked you into that."
"I left him. That was my decision."
Obi-Wan did not reply.
"We all owe something, Obi-Wan, except for the children. Let's just call it even and move on."
At precisely 2027 hours, Anakin answered the door. "Good evening, Madam."
Mon Mothma nodded in greeting. "Your children-?"
"Gone. Luke to visit a fellow named Wedge and Leia to spend time with her pirate. I do not expect them until very late this evening."
She nodded, and Anakin thought this was the first time he had seen her in something besides official whites. She was actually quite lovely in blue. "Please, come in," he invited, stepping to the side.
Mothma entered, glancing around. "Other parts of the Temple are being restored to their original design," she remarked casually.
"Excellent." Anakin stepped past her and into the kitchen. "Would you care for a drink?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Have a seat," he offered. In a moment, he returned with two glasses and offered one to Mothma. She sipped it gratefully; her mouth was truly dry.
"You did not ask me here to discuss the redecoration of the public rooms," she said finally.
Anakin looked away. "No, I did not." For a long time, he did not say anything. His jaw worked furiously; she could see the muscles rippling behind his slowly tanning skin.
Finally, "I believe I am now officially guilty of eight counts of murder, not including that of the Jedi."
"If you are going to discuss the trial, I think we should have a witness-"
"No, Madam. I wish to explain my intentions." He took another breath. "I do not wish to continue this trial."
She blinked. "I thought you understood why I insisted on it."
"Yes, I do, and I still hold myself to the terms. But we both know that the destruction of Alderaan and the bacterial infection on Falleen were perhaps the only crimes I did not commit that were on that list. Once we dropped the rape and molestation charges, of course."
She nodded.
"You will never let me go."
"In good conscience, I cannot."
"Call a halt to the trial, then. Let us have this over with."
His eyes burned; she looked away. "I am not eager to end your life, Anakin. You are the father of my dearest friend and a boy I have come to love and respect."
He took her chin and drew her gaze back to his. "If it helps, think of me as Darth Vader, for it is for those crimes you will be extracting justice."
They were very quiet for a long time.
"And the execution?" she asked timidly.
"Can you give me a few days to say goodbye to my children?"
Mothma nodded. "Of course. I-yes, of course."
Mon Mothma fled the apartment.
Word came two hours later from Admiral Ackbar that he agreed with what Mon Mothma and Anakin had decided, along with a waiver. Anakin scrawled his name on it and sat down to write a legal will.
He had three days to spend with his children, and though he had sworn never to lie to them, he had decided to wait until the last day to tell them.
He would die in three days.
Luke returned shortly after midnight; his breath smelled moderately of alcohol, and his clothes reeked of the chemicals usually found in seedy taprooms. He smiled in greeting.
"Hey."
"You smell like a cigarette."
Luke laughed. "Good to see you, too. I kind of like this scent, though... eau de Scoundrel? What'd'ya think?"
"I think you are slightly tipsy."
"Thas a good word!"
Anakin rolled his eyes and took his son's arm, guiding him toward the 'fresher. One would think that after so many years as a trench fighter in the Rebellion, he would have developed a tolerance.
He shoved Luke inside with instructions to bathe thoroughly, then returned to the kitchen to make some caf. Three days. Just three days, and if he was supposed to watch Luke sleep through it, he would be damned-
Well, too late for that part.
Taking some clothes out of the chest Luke had appropriated for himself, Anakin settled down to wait, listening to the sound of the water.
Remembered.
The only con to taking a shower with another person was that one person inevitably was stuck outside the fall of the water, and because Amidala was miserable when she was cold, it was usually Anakin.
Obi-Wan was playing with Emma, giving them a few minutes alone; sometimes he was terribly silly about her. Anakin had surprised himself concerning his daughter; he was much more mature than he had imagined he would be.
"Ani?"
Anakin looked down... down at his wife. It always shocked him just a little when he realized how truly short she was. He grinned and kissed her, hands settling on the swell of her hips.
She slapped his backside, and things progressed from there.
Anakin was quite asleep when Luke finally emerged from the shower, feeling much less drunk and smelling like something that was still alive. He chuckled softly as he dressed.
"Dad?" Luke said softly. His father grunted, but woke. He lifted his head and glanced at the chrono.
"You shouldn't have let me sleep so long," he said around a yawn.
"It's almost one in the morning."
"Really?"
"Yeah, you need to go to bed, and so do I. Come on."
Luke tried to help his father into his room, but Anakin shrugged him off with a laugh. "I think I can walk... goodnight, Luke."
"Night."
Anakin disappeared down the corridor to his room. The door slid shut audibly as Luke settled on the couch to sleep.
He was out in a few minutes, as was his father, but Anakin was dreaming.
Emma's hair was curly blonde, and she was always smiling. Only four months old, she did little more than kick and grin in her parents' direction. They thought she was the most beautiful, intelligent child ever born, and it was positively sickening to their friends. Obi-Wan simply adored her, and spent almost as much time playing with her as Anakin and Amidala did.
This was one of Anakin's times with her, though. He was cooking, with Emma cradled in one arm, the baby suckling happily on a pacifier. She liked how things smelled in the kitchen, and usually fell asleep in this exact position.
"Do you think this needs more garlic?" he asked.
She blinked and grinned, so he took it as a yes, and tapped another dash into the saut? pan.
Emma waved a hand at him at gave a little whimper, accompanied by a sensation of discomfort across the parent-child bond they shared.
"Okay, baby, let's go find your bottle."
They found Emma's bottle sitting on the deck with Obi-Wan, a light jacket wrapped around her shoulders. "Somebody's hungry," Anakin told Amidala with a wolfish grin.
Amidala rolled her eyes and stood, taking Emma from him. "Fine, but you have to nurse the next one."
Anakin laughed and Obi-Wan blushed; he was frightfully prudish sometimes.
* (Missing the end of this sentence) The first day, Anakin and Luke vegetated before the holoviewer, watching old vids. Luke ate his weight in
"Huh?"
"This vid!"
"What's it about?"
"Oh, just some big boat that sank and everybody died."
"What's the point, then?"
"To see that girl's... eh, chest."
Anakin laughed. "Say it, Luke. Say 'breasts'."
"No."
"It's not a bad word."
"No.
Luke's face was flaming, and Anakin gave up. The special effects were decent, he supposed, but the plot was banal, and the star, Anakin thought, could not have been more unattractive. Thank the Creator I don't look like that, he thought, taking another sip of tea.
Leia returned, bearing a reservation at a small, upscale restaurant. She had gotten it into her mind to make Anakin and Han like each other (or simply agree long enough for she and Han to marry). It took a bit of cajoling to convince Luke, but Anakin was hers the moment she smiled at him, although he rolled his eyes.
Leia neglected to tell them that Han would be waiting for them.
Distinctly uncomfortable in 'dress clothes,' Han sat facing the door of the Andromeda Cloud, perhaps the most renowned restaurant in this section of Coruscant, even if it was not the most formal. Still, Han felt out of place and a little nervous, two things that really bothered him. He sipped some heavily watered down alcohol and watched the door.
When Luke, Leia, and their father arrived, Han took a moment to study them. As always, his eyes were drawn toward Leia's face. She was slightly flushed, probably excited about this afternoon. Luke, Han only looked at long enough to note he was appropriately dressed, but still radiated country bumpkin.
Anakin was different. Han's eyes followed him across the cafe as the hostess led them to the table. Surprisingly elegant in dark pants and a cream-colored sweater, he nodded in greeting when Han stood and pulled Leia's chair out. His scars did not seem that garish, more like something that added to his personality. His presence was as commanding as it had ever been.
"Good afternoon, General," Anakin said once the hostess had vanished with their drink orders.
"Good afternoon," Han replied. He had never been one for manners, but he could play, he supposed. Besides, this was not exactly a cantina.
"I trust you've been well, General?"
"I've been good," Han replied with a shrug and a smirk. "And you?"
"Oh, well enough."
They lapsed into an awkward silence.
Leia broke it. "Father, Han and I wanted to tell you something."
Anakin's eye twitched. "Yes?"
Han coughed. "Well, you see, Leia and I have known each other for a long time. And we weren't always close."
"He used to irritate me beyond belief."
"But we worked through all that."
"Yeah. I mean, we get along very well now."
"I am very happy for you," Anakin replied dryly.
Luke stared into his drink.
"You see, what I want to know is-"
"He means, what we'd like to ask you is-"
"Whether or not you'd let-"
"Approve of-"
"Me and Leia getting married."
Another silence. Anakin looked very confused. "I fail to see why you felt the need to ask me."
Finally, Leia managed to form a coherent sentence. "Because your opinion matters a great deal to me, Daddy. I want to know you'll be okay with it."
"Ah." He scrutinized the table covering. "Leia, you do me a great honor, and it is quite obvious that you are content. I could not deny you any happiness, Leia."
Leia's eyes filled with tears that she promptly blinked away; a surge of exultation filled the pirate, and he wanted to get up and kiss her. He resolved to do so when her father was not sitting two feet from him.
"I trust you proposed to her more appropriately?" Anakin asked Han.
Han nodded, unable to suppress a grin that split his face. "Thank you, sir!"
Luke grinned at them, and Anakin turned an amused look on his son. "Silly, aren't they?"
Quite a bit of the meal was spent passing small talk back and forth, with Han trying to be witty and Anakin succeeding. Luke just laughed most of the time, and Leia glowed and primped. She looked very proud of herself.
The cafe was ready to close when the four finally left (leaving a very respectable amount of credits on the table). Coruscant's sun was sinking in the west.
"Will you be returning with us?" Anakin asked his daughter. He pulled a jacket on over the sweater.
Leia nodded, and placed a tiny kiss on Han's cheek. "See you tomorrow?" she asked him. He nodded, still a little dazed at the whole day.
So now, they had two days.
Anakin looked at his daughter's euphoric face and did not regret spending so many of his last hours with the pirate.
Luke had known something was different almost the moment he had returned from Wedge's party. It was hard to pinpoint. It was as if a shadow had been lifted from them, but Luke had a feeling that his father had done something drastic.
Anakin felt different; he even looked different. He seemed less ashamed of what he had been; less afraid that someone would point him out in the street.
At the moment, he was arguing with Han. "Aw, come on!"
"Absolutely not."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want your ship. You've already lost a great deal of money to me, why don't you just let it go?"
"Because I've never lost that much."
Chewie roared a comment, which Han ignored as he dealt yet another hand of sabacc.
Anakin won that, too, but Luke saw him slip the credit chips into Han's pocket a few hours later. Anakin saw his son staring, and winked at him.
Han and Chewbacca left shortly after dinner, saying they had to tinker with the Falcon. Anakin told them about their mother and sister, and about his training in the Temple-in these very rooms.
It only served to make Luke very depressed, and when midnight came and his father and sister went to bed, he lay awake and still on the couch.
Two teeth had started to come in at the top, prompting Amidala to wean Emma from her breast. Emma was not happy with it at first, but they eventually convinced her that baby food really was good, and now Amidala was going shopping by herself for the first time since Emma had been born, almost nine months ago.
Emma giggled and threw a fist full of mashed carrot at him. Anakin's eyes rolled heavenward and wished he had the convenience Emma did-namely attending dinner clad only in the necessities of clothing. All his white clothes had different colored spots on them, from her food fights.
"Don't do that, Emma," he told her sternly (or at least, he liked to think he was being stern). He sent a wave of censure over the Force; Emma's tiny face grew somber. She understood. Anakin kissed her forehead-the only spot on her body not splashed with goo.
She burped loudly and laughed in delight. He supposed it tickled her to make such big noises. Anakin lifted her carefully from the high chair, carrying her away from his body and depositing her in the sink. Most of the baby food he was able to wash off with a damp cloth. She laughed some more and splashed him.
Anakin snorted. "Emma, I am not going to have any clothes left when Mommy comes home, do you know that?"
Another giggle, this one accompanied by a delighted squeal. He sighed and lifted her, diaper discarded, and went to dress her in something approaching decent.
Amidala returned almost half an hour later, an impressive bag slung over one shoulder. Anakin was slightly miffed when she went to Emma and not to him.
"Funny little boy," she laughed, pressing her cheek to Emma's hair. "Come here and give me a kiss."
Anakin obeyed; his hand strayed and Amidala grinned as she placed it on their daughter's shoulder. "That's what got us into this in the first place, Ani. Just calm down."
"I'm not even twenty-five yet, Ami. My libido is astronomical!"
She laughed; he loved that sound. "I know. But I really don't think we can deal with two more kids right now."
"Two? Where'd two come from?"
"Did I say two?" Her eyebrows knit into a delicate line. "Oh, well. Anyway, no protection, no playing. Got it?"
He popped his lower lip out and pouted.
"And stop that."
The lip resumed its normal position.
Amidala grinned and kissed him again. "Wanna see what I bought Emma?"
It was with a sort of bitter regret that Anakin awoke on the last day of his freedom. As had become his custom, he sat cross-legged in a pool of dawn-light and meditated. The feeling of his hand on Emma's lingered in his mind even as he centered himself in the Force and allowed himself to submerge in it.
To a point. It overwhelmed him, sometimes, and that was not what he needed just now. His worst times as Vader had always been preceded by a time he had let the Force take control.
So he went almost to that point, and floated on that energy. It carried him toward the nexus of energy that was the heart of the Force. When Jedi released their emotions, this was where they went. Anakin had never been inside, though he knew it was well within his capabilities. He simply knew that he would never want to leave it.
Perhaps an hour later, Anakin rose easily, shaking a slight numbness from his legs and feet. He dressed quietly, pausing occasionally to watch Coruscant wake.
The apartment was silent and still, and Anakin wondered whether he should wake his children. A glance at Luke and he decided to forego that. He had obviously not slept well; there were dark places under his eyes and all the blankets were on the floor.
Anakin smiled and shook his head. After a moment's deliberation, and he decided to leave the apartment.
The Temple seemed very hollow, and it was not all because of the early hour. When he, Anakin Skywalker, had known it before, it had been full of Jedi, of people using the Force and augmenting it every time they touched it. Now, it was sterile, practically lifeless. This was no longer a home for Jedi.
Once, he passed a member of the cleaning crew, and another time, a soddenly drunk bureaucrat returning from a long night of celebration. Anakin gave them both polite nods, but he doubted the latter even noticed.
He found himself at the entrance to what had been the Garden of Lights. It had been his favorite garden when he had followed that path. The Jedi had kept candles and paper lamps burning in it; luminescent plants and insects had inhabited it, creating a gentle, calm place in the midst of the city-planet.
Palpatine had destroyed the peace, of course. What plants there were, were planted in painfully regular patterns; no insects flitted about. Even the stream was barren of the glowing fish that had once lived there.
This sight, perhaps more than any other, filled Anakin with a deep sadness; it firmed his resolve. He looked down at his hands, and the sun streaming through the glass overhead had cast them in a maroon light.
He found it remarkably appropriate. He did deserve death.
"Hold your arm steady, like this."
General Rieekan and Mon Mothma stood in a stall in the munitions training center. Mothma wore protective goggles that reminded her of experiments in chemistry classes. The blaster in her hand felt very heavy, almost too heavy to carry.
These things sickened her. They had been created with one purpose: to kill. They were useless in farming, construction, and medicine. Their only truly practical purpose was use on the battlefield.
Mothma swallowed her revulsion and raised the blaster, taking careful aim. She squeezed the trigger; the target registered a shot in the chest, close enough to the heart to kill.
She was glad; she would be standing much closer to Anakin when she pulled the trigger. There was not much chance of her missing, but it still made her feel better to know that she could shoot straight.
"You've never taken much interest in blasters," the General remarked casually, leaning against the wall.
"It might be useful."
"The war is over, Mon. Why didn't you learn while we were still fighting?"
She shrugged. "Because the thought of actually using it on someone disgusts me." And it did. She wondered whether brain was really gray, and whether it would matter, when a blaster bolt was involved. She decided to take a change of clothes with her.
Anakin had returned the waiver with a short note. Handwritten, oddly, in the precise, neat script he had signed death warrants.
"Madam, I have made a copy of this waiver for my own legal records, and to make sure there are no undue accusations made toward you in the future.
As to the place of execution, might I make a suggestion? There is a nature reserve a mere hour's travel from here that is quite lovely-but more importantly, quite unpopular. There is a small, quiet beach there. I think this would be both appropriate and convenient due to the nature of the meeting. At your service, A.S."
Mothma swallowed a lump in her throat, raised the abhorrent blaster, and fired again. Another target was obliterated.
Many hours later, the blaster lying like a serpent on her table, Mon Mothma busied herself retching noisily into a sink.
This was Emma's second trip to a respiratory hospital. She was miserable and tired, her eyes red from crying and being unable to sleep. Anakin held her protectively against his chest, constantly sending sensations of love and peace through the Force. For a moment, she dozed off, but her breath started to come in painful gasps, and he had to wake her. She cried weakly, too tired to do that.
Amidala's eyes were red, too, with dark circles beneath. Her face was pale and wan from grief and lack of sleep. Anakin knew he did not look much better. Ami had been able to sleep a little yesterday, when her mother had come to see them, but Anakin had not closed his eyes in four days.
He was afraid that if he did, he would never see Emma again.
It had started four months ago. Emma had a little trouble breathing, but they passed if off as a mild cold. Obi-Wan and Anakin gave her some Force-healing, and she was better. The next month, on a wild impulse, Anakin rushed into her room to find her not breathing, her tiny face bluish. It had not taken much to get her to breathe again, and Anakin had wept with relief when she started crying.
The pediatrician on Valtuo called it sleep apnea, and they took turns holding her at night. Obi-Wan never left the house, and Master Yoda put in an appearance. She had been better for the next two months, but last week...
It had been the worst. Every time she tried to sleep, she stopped breathing. She could not cry because she was exhausted. They had gone to a respiratory specialist on Coruscant, who directed them here, to a pediatric respiratory physician on Alderaan. Her name was Dr. Allora Evey, and she treated Emma with a real concern.
There was nothing she could do. No one knew what was wrong with her, and the Jedi Healers who looked at her were shocked that even their skill left Emma's disorder unnamed.
It was Allora Evey who told them their child was dying.
Anakin looked down at the very sick child in his arms, and tried to smile. Tears began to roll from his eyes and he blinked. He prayed that Emma did not notice the anguish that swirled inside him. The thought of losing her...
Amidala let out a little moan of grief before she swooned, falling to the floor
Their baby was dying.
After a long discussion, they decided to return to Valtuo. Emma liked it, and it soothed all of them. Obi-Wan piloted, and Anakin and Amidala took turns holding Emma. They touched her face and hair, held her hands to their mouths. Anakin managed to get one laugh out of her, and he held it in his mind like a glass figurine.
They were memorizing her.
Anakin woke drenched in sweat and tears. The sun was not yet risen, but it did not matter. He would not sleep again, because he knew what would come next: Emma's death. On the day he was to die, he did not want to have that hovering over him and his children.
He looked at the picture, in its simple frame. Amidala had taken it and developed it, an art that had been lost a long time ago. He blinked rapidly, staring into the gray of the pre-dawn sky.
Two decades of pain and hate. Twenty years spent in mourning. A lifetime as a murderer.
It ended today.
At 0837, a messenger came to tell Mon Mothma that Leia Organa, Luke Skywalker, and their guest had left the compound, headed south. Mothma nodded in acknowledgement, her eyes staring straight ahead. She was glad that she had had the foresight to suspend all of her meetings for today and tomorrow.
Luke was oddly alert as the air taxi sped through Coruscant's confusing traffic patterns. Anakin appeared paler than usual, but something about him had solidified into a stubborn resolve. He wore a longish white sweater and beige pants; he was still cold, though. Luke could simply tell.
Leia, on the other hand, sat comfortably with her bare feet curled beneath her. She looked very young, with her hair in braided pigtails that hung down her chest. She had called the pants Capri, Luke called them shorter than normal; she had called the shirt a tank top, he had called it sleeveless. Anakin had laughed.
His eyes were closed tight, hands clutched his knees compulsively. Probably fighting the instinct to throw the reckless taxi driver out the window and take over. The taxi lurched hard, and Luke sympathized.
But Anakin paid the man without a comment when they arrived at the entrance to the nature preserve. When he turned around, his lips were drawn into a tight line.
"That man is going to get somebody killed," Luke commented.
Anakin shrugged. "Let's go, shall we?"
They hiked for hours, meandering idly, until they came to the beach. It was a narrow strip of white sand between two pinnacles of coral, and Coruscant's single, small ocean beat at it constantly. Leia slipped the sandals off her feet and walked in the surf.
Anakin sat on a sun-bleached log, eyes riveted on his daughter. She appeared so young and vulnerable now, and Luke...
When Luke was not holding a weapon, he looked like he was twelve. Always had.
Luke and Leia came to sit beside their father, and watched the sun sink lower in the west. Wind blew strong and cool across them, and the surf pounded.
"Luke."
"Yes?"
"Emma told me to tell you 'Hi.'"
His brows descended slightly. "Huh?"
"She said to remind you that she was the one who 'helped you when you were little.'"
Luke's eyes widened. "What? That's imposs... " He allowed the sentence to fade away. "Oh, wow."
"Would you care to enlighten us?"
Luke's expression was one of amazement. "I was sick a lot when I was a kid, and there was this little girl who used to come and sit with me. I always thought she was another farmer's kid, but when I asked Aunt Beru, she told me nobody had been there in days. It was-it must have been Emma." His smile widened and he stared over the ocean. "Wow."
Anakin nodded. "Yes, she seemed quite enamored with you two."
"I wish I had known her," Leia sighed. "She was the reason I stopped hating you, did you know that?"
Anakin nodded. "I'd guessed at that, yes."
He felt the atmosphere of the preserve change as Mon Mothma arrived. Her pain was a beacon to him, but he hoped Luke was not quite so receptive.
They did not have much time. Anakin opened his shields and Sent to his children.
//Luke, I have loved you more than you can imagine. You are my precious son; you risked your life in your faith and love for me, a tired old sinner who two years ago would have killed you. You gave me the light again, Luke.//
//Oh, Leia. You are like the sun to me, as bright as liquid fire. So strong, so lovely. Be happy, Leia, and hold to your memories of your mother; she gave her life to protect you from me. We both owe her more than we know. I love you, Leia.//
Their thoughts were not so eloquent, more a jumble of emotions. Love was there, of course, and happiness, and a bitter regret.
Luke Sent pride. //You came back, you faced the Dark and won, my father.//
Leia Sent adoration. //Daddy, I love you so much. It consumes me sometimes.//
Anakin grinned, blinking away tears. "We're an emotional group today, aren't we?"
Leia laughed and kissed his cheek. "When are we going back to the Temple?" she asked. "I want to stay here forever."
Anakin kissed her forehead. Mothma was much closer now. He wondered if she was running.
"I do, too, my Leia, but that is impossible."
"Nothing is impossible," Luke retorted. As if to prove it, he started walking on his hands across the sand, a stunt that lasted long enough for Leia to find a canteen and splash him.
The sun sank behind them as they played, childlike, splashing water at each other. Luke froze suddenly, looking back over Anakin's shoulder.
Anakin didn't bother. He already knew what was there.
Leia screamed and sprinted toward them, the wind catching stray tendrils of hair and whipping them across her face. Her eyes were wide and panicked, but she was still beautiful. Anakin hoped he always remembered her like that.
"Stop!!" Leia skidded to a halt before him.
"What are you doing?!" Luke demanded.
"What was agreed." Mon Mothma's soft voice quavered just a bit.
"AGREED?!" Leia's hurt eyes turned to her father, and Anakin could only look at her.
"It is over, Leia. You and your brother should leave now. This will not be pretty."
Leia shook her head silently, and Luke's mouth opened and closed several times before he could manage to speak.
"No! We haven't had long enough! We don't even know you! You can't go!"
"There is no choice in the matter, Luke. I agreed to this trial, I will not go back on my word."
"Daddy, please... " Leia was crying. He almost reneged then; he could not stand her tears.
Pictured the Temple burning; Alderaan exploding; Needa gasping on the floor.
"I'm sorry, Leia."
"No! Mon, please! He's my father! Can't you see that?!"
"Leia, don't-" Mothma began. She stopped. "He agreed to this! He agreed! It must be done!"
"No!"
"You fought for it as hard as I, Leia! You know the Republic is worth this life!"
Weeping, voice rough, Leia cried, "It's not worth my father's life!" And she tried to lunge at Mothma.
The Force stopped her; Anakin smiled gently as she tried to run, but could not free herself from its hold. "I'm not leaving," Luke said grimly. "I will not leave you to die alone, Father."
"I don't want you to see it."
"I've... I've seen worse."
Anakin shook his head. He did not want his children to see. Force, let them leave, please...
But there was no compromise in Luke's eyes, and Leia glared at him with such ferocity that he imagined they were in the Consulate ship over Tatooine...
"Do it, Mothma," Anakin ordered.
Mothma raised the blaster and leveled it at his head. He felt the cool muzzle against his skin, and closed his eyes. He began to pray.
Yoda was alarmed. The living were moving a bit too quickly for his taste. He turned to Qui-Gon and commanded, "Go to them!"
The spirit was gone before Yoda had finished the sentence.
The wind rose suddenly, whipping hair and clothing alike with ferocity. Mothma covered her eyes with her arms to protect them from the blinding sand; Anakin lowered his head instinctively to protect his face.
Thus, the shot went wide, scorching the sand beside his feet.
Imperturbable Anakin Skywalker gasped in shock and relief.
The wind screamed around them as the sky darkened. This is NOT the WILL OF THE FORCE!
"Qui-Gon!" Anakin cried, standing. "Stop this! It must be done!"
Silence, Chosen One! I speak as the Force that begot you and you will hear it! This is the WILL OF THE FORCE.
Anakin's destiny screamed around him, buffeting his face and hands with stinging sand. Despite this, his eyes flew open in horror. "No! You can't!"
This is the thing that 'must be done', Anakin. You will submit.
"No!"
He was vaguely aware that Mon Mothma, Luke, and Leia were screaming as well, but for very different reasons.
In the next few minutes, Anakin knew what rape felt like. His mind was torn open; certain paths were seared closed; others obliterated entirely. He screamed with his entire voice; desperate, he begged as the Son of the Suns to be spared this fate.
The Force showed no mercy to the one who had betrayed it.
His entire body jerked when the rape was over, and he tottered on his feet. The wind died with a weep. I am so sorry, Anakin, but I must obey our master...
Anakin did not hear that. He couldn't hear the Force anymore, nor could he see when his son lifted his head off the sand. But he felt the tears, heard the weeping. He tried to reach out to the Force, denying that this had happened...
But the Force was dead to him. The Chosen One had been rejected, all of his incredible powers stripped from him, along with his vision.
And, oh sweet stars, the pain! He was burning again, and he was afraid, because after the last burning he had hurt so many...
But now he could no longer touch the Force; there was no Dark or Light Side for him now.
In the distance, far across the agony, Mon Mothma asked, "What just happened?"
Luke Skywalker, the only living Jedi, fixed her with a cold glare. "That was the Force, Madam, punishing a repentant Sith. He is absolved by powers higher than your own."
"This is-"
"None of your business, anymore, Mothma," Leia's voice interrupted. "The Force left us our father, but took the Jedi. This is worse than the death the two of you concocted."
Soft lips touching his forehead to give comfort were like daggers into his skull.
Anakin fled to the blessed oblivion of unconsciousness, away from the pain and loss.
FOUR YEARS LATER
Anakin had a small garden outside the house on Valtuo, and whenever the weather was bearable, he walked slowly there and spent hours with the plants. He was a different man-leaner, his skin darker, his eyes covered with a milky film.
The actual gardening completed, Anakin sat cross-legged on the ground, just listening. Somewhere, Han and Leia's oldest daughter, Emily, was laughing, and Han and Chewie were arguing loudly. Leia, very pregnant with her second child, was probably doing something domestic, as she was wont to do while she carried a child.
A breeze blew across his face, warm, heralding the approach of summer. Summer would be hot and humid, and Anakin's cough would return. It was a dry, racking cough that had not truly gone since they had returned here, two months after his Blinding.
The actual pain of the Blinding had lasted over a year, but he had refused any medication to dull the pain and make his sleep easier. At the time, he had not wanted to sleep; the nightmares had returned, and every night for almost a year he woke screaming. There had been a period of four weeks when all he did was sit in a pool of sunlight and stare, with his sightless eyes, out the window. He'd gotten a severe sunburn for his trouble, but it had healed before he came back to himself.
He had not healed-he did not think he ever would. He had known the glory of the Force, but now it was taken from him. He had simply grown numb.
Luke's oldest padawan, one who had chosen to follow the healing path, had looked for a way to heal him. Anakin would never have allowed her to do so, and made that clear, but she was stubborn and said that she only wanted to look. Her probing, the Force brushing over those wounds, had caused more pain than losing his hand. It was the last time he ever went to a Jedi for healing.
Anakin blinked, altogether annoyed with the black-on-black. Everything he had enjoyed and cherished had been taken from him-except his family, to which he had reluctantly admitted Han Solo. Piloting was obviously closed to him-and how that had hurt!-as was the design of intricate machines. He had tried using computer programs, but it simply did not work. He could no longer cook, or read Amidala's letters. He could no longer see the pictures of Emma and Obi-Wan and Ami. That was the worst. The image of his firstborn was burned into his mind, but it was not the same. Sometimes, he imagined that he was forgetting her face, or her laugh, and then the fear was very real and very loud.
No Force meant no shields, and for the first time since his infancy, his mind was completely open to any Force-user who cared to look. That did not inflame the wounds as the healing probes did. The thought had been disturbing until he remembered that most of his adult life had been spent as a Sith Lord, and no one would willingly look into that Pit.
He heard tiny footsteps approaching, echoed by slower, more serene... waddling footsteps. He smiled slightly, staring straight ahead, as the smell of juniper reached him. Leia and Emily, and the unborn child Anakin had been told was male.
"Grampa!" Emily cried, clambering into his lap. Anakin smiled gently at her as she kissed his cheek. She had never known him as Jedi, or with sight, so to the three-year old, all grandfathers were blind and melancholic. He hated to put forth that image, especially to the little one, but there it was.
Emily snuggled close against him, her head over his heart, which he had noticed was beating a little irregularly. This did not concern him. If he had yearned for death all those years ago on the beach of Coruscant, he now longed for it with all of his soul. There, he hoped, either the agony of this existence would end in oblivion, or by the Force accepting him again, and letting him see his wife and daughter.
He felt he was dying. He hoped he was.
Luke knew, of course; surely, his entire temple (fourteen Jedi currently, living in a small collection of houses much farther up the mountain) knew that he was on the brink of death. He wondered sometimes how it would be. Would he be awake? Would it be sudden, or would it take weeks? Would the cough simply not go away, until he had deteriorated to the point of true disability? Did it really matter, so long as he ended up dead?
He hugged Emily a little tighter; he would miss her very much.
Leia sat very carefully on the ground beside her father, and he heard a slight snap as she plucked a blade of grass. Her breath drew in sharply as the wind changed pitch.
"Who is it this time?" Anakin asked quietly. Leia's voice was a whisper.
"It's Obi-Wan."
Anakin nodded in greeting, aware that he would never hear Obi-Wan's replies or see him, until he died at least. It left a hollow place in his heart.
"He says for you to cheer up."
"If I hear that from one more ghost, I think I shall do something rash," Anakin answered.
"He's says you're right about the future."
"Well, of course I am. I know what these things mean."
"He says you shouldn't linger on it."
"He will have to reconcile himself to the fact that I have very little left to linger on."
Leia sighed, and Anakin knew it was more than a reflection of Obi-Wan's reply. It hardly mattered to him just now.
A month and a half later, Leia bore her second child, a son she named Anakin. When Anakin the elder was informed of his daughter's choice, he was humbled; when his grandson was placed in his arms, he felt complete. He thanked the Force for granting him this moment to hold his grandchild, his namesake. Anakin the junior ceased his wailing and grasped his grandfather's finger tightly in his little hand.
"His full name is Anakin Jacen Solo," Han beamed. "After my father, too."
"It is a very good name," Anakin replied. He touched his grandson's face, careful that the robotic hand did not press too hard and bruise the newborn skin.
"He's great, isn't he!?" Han grinned widely.
"Splendid," Anakin replied, and he, too, was smiling gently.
"He's got your eyes," Han told him, more quietly. "And a lot of brown hair."
Anakin closed his eyes and kissed the small child's head. "All his fingers and toes?"
"Ten and ten."
"Normal ears?"
"Yep. He's perfect."
Anakin still dreamed, almost every night, and in his dreams he could see, though sometimes he prayed for blindness. Most of the good dreams started on Naboo-in Theed, Otoh Gunga, or the plains that separated the two worlds.
It was on one of these plans that Anakin found himself the night Anakin Solo was born. He smiled slightly, gazing across the plain at the forgotten color of grass and sky. His form was young, strength and virility still in the long, smooth limbs. He moved easily across the plain, toward Theed.
Then, as he dreamed of doing when awake, he drew on the Force. It flowed sweet and cool inside him, a river to quench his thirst. The Chosen One was not meant to be denied this.
When the flow threatened to carry him away, he released it, let the Force go back to it's natural courses. He opened his eyes to see a flock of birds settle into the city.
This was not where he wanted to be in this dream. He wanted to see Amidala... he only had a few more hours to sleep and see her... there was no way to tell when the breathing would become more difficult and the colors darker as he donned the mask and cloak...
Closed his eyes, only wanting a happy time.
Opened them to see her standing at his side on a white beach, her dark hair loose and blowing behind her. He wanted to reach out and touch that hair, to bury his face in it, but he knew this memory, and that was not part of it.
"My father taught me how to swim in the ocean," she told him, her smile light and joyful in the sunset. "After that, I thought nothing of ponds and lakes."
The reply came to his mind and passed through his lips. "When I went to live with Obi-Wan, I was terrified of swimming, so he pushed me in the pool. He wouldn't let me out until I started kicking, then he told me to put my feet down, and the water was only up to my chest."
"So you got out," she continued for him. Anakin's eyes widened and he took a step back from her. This was not how it had happened! "And admitted that the fear was groundless, and then you pushed Obi-Wan in and jumped in after him, and started a splashing war that lasted until a group of Initiates came in and started scolding you."
She turned toward him and smiled warmly. "I know, Ani. I remember it too."
His chin fell to his chest; he was rendered mute. She stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms under his, around the slim back; moved them up to caress broad shoulders, still thin enough to be called slender.
"What is this? I can't see you, any of you, in my dreams... "
She looked up at him, bit her lip. "Who says this is a dream, Anakin?"
His breath caught. "What happened?"
"You stopped breathing in your sleep, Anakin. You died quietly; Chewbacca will find your body in the morning."
His breath hissed inward sharply. "I'm dead?"
"Quite."
"And this... "
"Is the afterlife, Anakin. The Force."
"It welcomes you," another voice said. Anakin whirled to see Qui-Gon, robes flaring out behind him, and Obi-Wan, walking at his side. "It is all over, Ani. Welcome home."
Obi-Wan grinned broadly. "Padawan."
Distinctly uncomfortable, and too hopeful to truly believe, Anakin replied, "Master."
Obi-Wan's grin grew even wider. "May I embrace you, Padawan?"
Speechless, eyes shining with tears he hardly dared to acknowledge, Anakin fell into his Master's embrace. There, the tears came, strong and true for the first time in years.
"It's over, Anakin," Obi-Wan soothed. "It's all over. You're home, Ani, and the Force rejoices with you."
"It hurt so much... I was alone, so alone, and so cold... "
"We're here, Daddy. We're not going to leave."
That was a new voice, and Anakin froze, staring over Obi-Wan's shoulder at Qui-Gon's amused face. He turned very slowly.
Emma.
She was an adult, a young woman, with golden hair and eyes like the sky after a storm.
Emma.
Tall and slim, beautiful by anyone's standards, with a smile like sunshine.
His Emma.
She ran to him, flung her arms around his neck and held him close. He became aware a few moments later that she had not stopped crying his name, "Daddy! Daddy! I love you!"
Anakin reached out blindly for Amidala, who took his hand and drew herself into that embrace, the first one they had shared in more that twenty-five years.
Once more, the earth in the tiny glade in the forest had been upturned; a mass placed inside; a marker lain at the head. Luke stared at it, his eyes dry and sore from crying, though he knew this day had been long in the coming.
Anakin Skywalker
Jedi
There is no death; there is the Force.
Original cover design by FernWithy. HTML formatting copyright 2001 TheForce.Net LLC.
