InsaneJournal

When the red alert had happened, and the ship had taken a nasty shake, causing the power to vanish, Vader had been walking through the corridors near the mess hall and had to duck into it a moment later. The hall was filled with people, others, some of whom looked at him with an oddity. He didn’t know them, but apparently his reputation preceded him. He’d chosen to ignore the others, and had moved towards a corner of the mess hall that would be quiet, and void of other people.

He didn’t trust himself around them. Not really. The darkness was still there, he could feel it tugging. The light, it was there too, and warm, it spread through him like a welcoming thing. Something he hadn’t felt since he’d first touched the Force, or since he’d constructed his first lightsaber. The Force, he forgot how much warmth it could bring. Still, the darkness was there, and he could feel its cold, hate-fueled power gripping at him, reminding him of what he truly was.

It wasn’t until later that he’d learned Padmé was there, but she was helping people, making sure they were fed and warm. It was what she always did. He wanted to talk to her, to make his way towards her, but instead he chose to remain in his side of the hall. He didn’t know what to say, or how to feel, nor did he trust himself. After what he’d done to her.

He hadn’t slept that night, he never did anymore. It was early, he didn’t know the time, but everyone was asleep now. The room was quiet, the warm glow of emergency lights was dimmed, and Anakin slowly made his way towards one of the viewing windows that overlooked the stars and nebulas of the cluster they were near.

---

After spending so much time around Anakin, Padmé had a way of feeling his presence in a room. Never in a way that the Jedi could, but Ani had always been able to hold a room. He carried himself a certain way, a way that often distracted her.

That hadn't really changed, she supposed, when he became Darth Vader. It was even harder to ignore a tall man in shiny black leather and plasteel, but it was more than that. There was a draw there, something that had unsettled most of the patrons in the Mess Hall in one way or another. Padmé had been just as afraid as everyone else when she'd learned he was aboard, but now that he was out and about?

She wasn't sure what to think. In the beginning, it didn't matter. People needed food, and comfort, and she was never one to sit idle. But now? Most of them were sleeping, a little more resigned to wait things out. And there was Darth Vader, or Ani, or whoever he was, now. She grabbed herself a cup of caf, and walked over to him. "I'd offer you something to eat, but I... don't think you take nourishment the same way that you used to."

---

The black cape lay silent behind Vader, his arms resting heavily at his side, the deep, signature robotic breathing of his helmet filling the quiet in the night, and the vast loneliness of space spread out before the Sith Lord while he stood in his own reverie. That is, until he felt the quiet approach of Padmè. He felt her, before he heard her, her presence always such a bright spot in the darkness that was his mind.

As she neared him, and her voice crept into his ears, it felt almost like a dream. It was a voice he’d not heard in so long, a distant, forgotten thing that had once been the only voice capable of calming the Dark Side that had always picked at the sides of his consciousness. It was also a stark reminder of the voice he’d silenced so many years ago, in his anger, in his foolishness. He swallowed a lump at the thought, trying to play back at the anger he felt for himself.

Eventually, Anakin turned his helmet some to signal he was speaking to her, though he was really just looking at her through the window’s reflection. As if looking at her directly would be a crime.

“The suit, and the Force, they provide me the necessary nourishment,” The suit fed into his body directly. It was an odd assessment from her, one he would have laughed at in a better state of mind. He hadn’t eaten in decades.

The deep, filtered voice spoke once more, “Are the others… alright?” Speaking, of course, of the others in the Mess Hall.

---

Surely it was a good sign that he was asking after the others in the hall. Why would he care about any of that if he was truly too far gone? Padmé took a seat nearby, close enough that he could see she wasn't trying to keep her distance, but far enough to give him any space he might need. It had been years for him, and things were very different. She didn't want to be too familiar with him just yet.

It was a little awkward, but at least they were talking. She nodded her head, and cradled her cup in her hands. "Some of them fell off their chairs during the impact, a few light bruises. There were minor cuts in the kitchen, but the staff assures me there was nothing serious. Most of us, I think, are simply trying to wait it out. We know the Captain has his crew working to fix this."

The situation reminded her of something, and she smiled. "This is far preferable to the many times we have been stranded or stuck before."

---

Anakin continued to seemingly watch the unfamiliar space ahead of him, but really he was watching her still, noting the seat she took and that while he could tell she felt nervous, or what he perceived as nerves, she was collected, willing, warm even. Always the strongest between the two, and the smartest, Anakin marveled at her strength in that moment. Standing in his robes, feeling the Force in him, the man could almost laugh at himself and his own feeling of weakness, terrified to talk to a woman he knew so intimately. He was Vader, he once destroyed several battalions of Rebel forces entirely on his own, while ship wrecked. What was wrong with him?

Turning to face her, he looked down at her in that seated position, and found that he was shocked to see her so young. Just as she’d been before he last saw her. He’d grown so old since then, become so marred, it was appropriate he thought, that she could be so strong, and beautiful. She deserved to live a long life, a good one, and maybe this ship would provide her that where Anakin couldn’t, where Vader stole it from her.

He gazed back at the sleeping few, some awake and watching he and Padme, or talking amongst themselves, and Vader drew his visor back to her, “They fear me. It’s why I’ve chosen to stay here.”

A smile, unseen by her, but perhaps felt etched into his features, “It’s at least cleaner.”

---

"And none of us is dying," Padmé added, smiling in a way that was at once happy and sad. She couldn't read his mind, obviously, but the years between them were something that she definitely felt, too, though in a completely different way. It felt like some kind of wall between them. The things he'd done - even yes, things he'd stolen from them. Not just from her, but from the both of them. And the things they never got to do. The plans she's made in her mind that had never come to fruition.

That needed airing, but she wasn't sure how to bring it up. "They do, and they are not alone. When you first came here, I was scared, too. I may as well admit it, there's no reason to keep things hidden between us."

She looked down into her mug for a moment, staring into the depths of her caf. "I had nightmares about that... last time we saw each other. The rest of our family may not be able or ready to forgive you, but... I cannot sit here sharing a ship with you and keep things between us unrepaired. And I won't fear your being here without good cause."

---

Vader’s breathing apparatus shuddered a tiny bit, which could have indicated a light chuckle from the Sith, and he did bring his eyes towards her, though it was a futile effort as she could not see them, “I was, before arriving here.”

When she began to talk more, he frowned beneath his helmet, listening to what she had to say. He understood it, of course, it was the very reason he was disappointed that Seven of Nine had even done any work at all to keep him alive. All the things he’d done, the terrible atrocities he’d allowed and committed as Darth Vader were sickening. No act or combination of acts could ever be used to bring any real redemption for those actions. Even killing the Emperor.

The solemn face of his helmet gleamed the gentle starlight from beyond the glass as he took in what she was saying, and then finally spoke, “They are wise to fear me. I am a dangerous individual, a weapon, and I do not know that any… action I may have taken, will ever allow me to overcome that role.”

He looked back towards her, “Nothing between us will ever be repaired, not after what I did. And you have as much reason to fear me as anyone, if not more so.”

---

Those words whipped across her like a lash, and Padmé was suddenly unsure of herself. Before, she was the older one. The one who'd lived a more worldly life, the one with a different kind of wisdom and authority. Now, she wondered if she was the child. Naive in thinking they could ever be at peace with each other. That hurt more than thinking about their final moments did, and those memories were heartbreaking.

Her cup shook in her hands, just slightly, and she took a long sip of it. She'd made it strong and dark, like Leia preferred, and it was just as bracing as it had been last time. "They refuse to call you Anakin. Some say that the man I fell in love with died that day, it is an easier way to think of it. I told Leia when we spoke that perhaps that was for the best, but that was before you came here.”

“And none of them could feel the Light still inside you. But my dying words to Obi-wan were that there was still good in you. I could feel it, even then. And perhaps it's foolish to think that after all you've done, that good would still be there."

She took a breath, and sighed, "I know we could never be what we were. I think I mainly hope that we can make our peace. Would you rather I pretend you don't exist? I know you aren't exactly the Ani I’m familiar with anymore. But you aren't dead in there, either."

---

“Then you were the only one who still believed in it, Padme,” Anakin kept looking out the window into the wide open spaces of the Universe, frowning beneath the mask as he set his arms behind his back, beneath the cape, “Until Luke. Luke… he saw something in me that I did not even see in myself. He saved me, brought me back to the light. You both were right about me, of course…”

He turned to face her completely then and looked down at her, “It would be foolish of me to think I could ever forget you exist. We can never be what we were, because it’s impossible in every way there is. I do not know… if I am even capable of such … light again. I do not know how long until the darkness tries to take over again. Because it will, and I don’t know if I’ll be strong enough when it does. I wasn’t before.”

He moved closer to her, watching her sip at the Caf, and then looked back towards all of the people on the ship, in the Mess Hall, who were stranded there, “But even though you and Luke were right, though I can feel the warmth of the light, they are right to fear me. And they will continue to fear me. It would be best… if I were not saved by the crew on this ship, and had been left for dead on Endor’s moon. There I could have found light, found peace, and atoned for the deaths in blood as I should have. Now, I do not know what will become of me.”

Turning his gaze back towards her, he watched her, “Though I am glad the children will get to know you, even if they spent their whole lives not.”

---

"I cannot argue with any of that," Padmé decided, sadly. Her words were nearly a whisper, barely heard above the sleepy sounds in the Mess Hall that evening. She wondered what it must have been like to discover that someone still believed in him, but was amused by the fact that it had been Luke, and not Leia. The two of them would never admit it - not after everything that had happened - but as much as Leia had taken her path, she was her father's daughter. Luke was more like her.

Perhaps that was the Universe putting things into balance. "I want to. I want to say that it's better you didn't die. There are opportunities here that you would not get any other place. But to know that you've been denied peace and atonement... no. I cannot argue with that. I wanted you to have those things. Even when I was dying. Even though they say it was your fault."

She wasn't sure it was entirely his fault. But the memory of her final moments was still too cloudy to sort through it. "I could feel you slipping away, I could almost feel your pain. I have no idea why. We both know I have no connection to the Force. But in that moment, I wanted you to have the chance. To live, to find that light again. I’m glad Luke saw it, even just a faint spark."

"Perhaps you will forever dance back and forth between them, now. Never fully in either position, but somewhere in between. But... yes. I am glad to get to know them, excited to know that they had children."

---

Anakin looked back at her when she mentioned the opportunities, then back away from her as he thought, looking down at his gloved hand, the one that had been cut off by Luke, by Dooku so many years ago, and he shook his head, “The same opportunities afforded me here, are the same that I had there. They were simply squandered, and I do not know that… it was of my choosing.”

He quickly turned on her then, his finger raising as he pointed at her, “Do not deflect blame. They are right to blame me, I am the one who killed you Padme. The anger, the pain from that day, that’s what gave me power, the Emperor, he used it as a way to feed into the Dark Side, to help me grow in strength. But, I think, the anguish is what allowed the light to stay, even if hidden as it was.”

Hand reached for her then, moving touch, but then Vader’s fist closed, and he pulled back, knowing that there would be no feeling there. No touch. The suit it lacked physicality, it was a prison, one he had earned in his treachery.

“I… have always loved you Padme, and I suppose before there’s a chance that all of this ends, and we return to our homes. I should… I’m sorry.”

The voice was deep, somber at the sound as he looked at her a moment longer, then back into space, “But I am the one that did it. It is my burden to bear. Not yours, not anyone’s, simply my own.”

He was silent a moment longer, then spoke, “Perhaps, the only punishment I deserve is no atonement, and a life like this… forced to see what I did. To live with it. Once you start down the path of the Dark Side, it will forever be apart of you. Yoda once said something similar, to many of the padawans, and he was right. It will be within me for eternity now. A struggle.”

---

Padmé opened her mouth, and then shut it again. She couldn't know what the truth was, and it was perhaps true that she was too easily ready to shift blame to someone or something else. Maybe she was being too forgiving, maybe he didn't deserve it. It wasn't as if she was unaware of some of the things he'd done. Obi-wan had told her about the Temple. She'd seen his plunge into darkness with her own eyes.

"I won't be able to stop loving Anakin Skywalker." She admitted, after taking another few moments to focus on her cup. "I know this, now, even as I know that I am right to be cautious of Darth Vader. Ours is a complicated story, one that was never meant for a happy ending."

This wasn't the time or place to cry, though her eyes watered momentarily. If he'd extended that hand the entire way across, would she have accepted it or batted it away? But she knew the answer, and it disturbed her. "I'm sorry, too. And I... You should know, I didn't know he was there on my ship. I knew he was trying to find you, to kill you. I only meant to see if his words were true - nothing was certain in those times. He snuck aboard. I want you to know that. I would never have willingly betrayed you. Even if I couldn't follow you down that path."

"We will not get much else from these developments, but we can at least have this... momentary closure." Perhaps that was more for her own benefit than his. She couldn't say.

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