When Angels Weep

Chapter: 10

~~~~~~~~~~

The man was exactly where Sheltay had said he'd be, standing staring about as though he had no idea where he was or where he was going. He was humanoid, tall and very thin, with the sort of facial features one could look at and forget a moment later. Sheltay had said he was perfect for the job.

"Are you lost?"

Bail's question led directly to an affirmative answer that was so long winded it rivaled any of Palpatine's speeches for length. Conscious of anyone watching, Bail asked if he could take this stranger anyplace in particular, since he'd have trouble finding a ride this time of the day. In minutes, they were in the air, Bail driving with no particular destination in mind.

Zoras settled into the passenger seat, making appreciative murmurs over the interior of the vehicle. "Wonderful, simply wonderful. Yes. Lovely woman, your aide, Senator. Quite forceful in her words. And persuasive. Yes. I usually prefer to meet in less public arenas for obvious reasons. Her arguments were, yes, persuasive. Lovely indeed. Shall we begin business, hmm?"

"You understand what I'm asking of you," Bail asked. Sheltay had already briefed the Zoras on what was needed. Bail merely wanted to make certain there were no misunderstandings. He wouldn't want Padmé caught because of this man. He had a feeling she'd definitely be on Anakin's bad side if she was caught trying to leave him.

Zoras nodded, head bobbing up and down, bird-like. "Of course. Four new identities, yes, a private ship, mm-hmm, and a fool proof escape plan ready to be implemented on a timetable no one knows. Yes. An easy task," he ended dryly.

"Can you do it?"

This elicited a tittering laugh of amusement. "I've already helped seven people disappear, hmmm, Senator and I doubt these two women and their children will be the last. Yes. Have no fear, mm-hmm. I'll make arrangements to get them off planet. Once they leave Coruscant however, yes, it'll be their responsibility to remain under the Empire's, hmm, radar." He sobered. "I certainly wouldn't want that Jedi after me. Yes, hmm. Word is he's ruthless. Kills without a thought about it. Yes, kills. Slice, dice and he's done. Just--"

Bail cut him off before he could wax on further about Anakin. The thought of Anakin using his lightsaber to kill Padmé made him faintly ill. "You remember the meeting place?"

"I remember everything, Senator, until I need to forget it, hmm." Long thin fingers gestured in the air.

"You will forget this conversation then. We never spoke."

"What conversation Senator? Yes. I'm grateful you took pity on a lost visitor to lovely, hmm, Coruscant and gave me a ride. I believe I see my destination. Yes. Let me out right over there if you don't mind, hmm?" He pointed and Bail steered to the landing pad. In minutes, he was alone and speeding back towards his apartment.

Please, he thought. Let this plan work. I don't want Padmé's blood on my hands.

~~~~~~~~~~

Today was going to be the day.

Vader took his son from Padmé, lifted him right away from her arms. The boy began to twist. A tiny whimper grew into a wail. Vader ignored it. Today was going to be the day his son laid quiet in his embrace and that was final. That was how it was going to be.

He rocked the boy, paced about the bedroom, conscious of his wife tense on their bed, covers pooled about her hips. Her nightgown slid down one shoulder, baring it. He wasn't tempted by her though. He had other matters on his mind. There was going to be quiet time with his son. He wanted it. He needed it. He demanded it. It was going to come about one way or another.

Dormé came into the room. Helpful Dormé already dressed for the day. Already ready to take charge. So helpful. So irritating with her controlled manner, as though she was laughing at his inability to quiet a tiny child. She was, wasn't she? Laughing, snickering behind his back. Wouldn't be the first time she'd laughed at him. He recalled a time once before in this very room when she'd let loose the most amused laugh. Tinkling and soft. He could almost see the barest of smirks on her lips. Dormé was always so very amused by him.

Vader gritted his teeth, banishing the memory of her laugh. "Be quiet," he ordered the baby.

"Has he been changed, yet," Dormé asked.

He ignored the question, keeping his attention on his son. "Stop crying." The boy screamed louder. Grating cries, scraping across his skin as a knife. Vader lifted little Annie in his hands, held him out and at eye level. "You will stop crying."

Dormé was speaking again, coming to him, reaching for his son. "He's always grouchy in the mornings. Let me calm him for you, Anakin. "

Vader's eyes narrowed. That's what always happened wasn't it? Dormé and Padmé taking the children, not letting him have a chance to hold them. They constantly kept the babies out of his arms. If one wasn't holding them, the other was. They leapt to take them the second Annie and Shmi began to cry, as though it wasn't possible for the children to quiet after a few minutes. It wasn't possible that the twins only needed a moment to know their father, since he barely got to hold them at all since the day they were born.

They didn't really know him and it was all the women's fault. Dormé and Padmé both. They were at fault. Not him. They were set to keep him from his children. They wanted to deny him his rights as father.

He'd show them both. His son would stop crying -- without their help.

"No," he answered her, but she kept standing there, kept reaching for his son.

"Just for a moment. Let me calm him." She gave a placating smile, the sort he'd seen his wife use when she was humoring someone.

"I said no." Her fingers brushed his. Vader gritted his teeth tighter, until he was certain the grinding sound was loud enough for all to hear.

"I'll take him and you can --"

He turned his head to look at her. Temper exploded, fiery trails consuming him, the flames of it licking about his limbs. Boiling. Burning. Always consuming.

~~~~~~~~~~

"I said no!" Anakin shouted and Padmé watched, helpless, as Dormé clutched at her throat, struggling for breath. She remembered that Force grip all too well. She remembered the horror of having her throat close and the black dots that swam on the vision. She recalled the clarity of the moment, when she'd seen her husband for what he'd become.

"Anakin, stop!" She tried to extricate herself from the covers, but they twisted about her as though alive, keeping her trapped.

Dormé's body lifted, flew backwards. She hit the wall. There was audible thump of her head striking it and then she crumpled to the floor, gasping and wheezing and finally still, her eyes open wide. Padmé could see the terror on her face as she stared at Anakin, the disbelief and at last, acceptance.

He hadn't even needed to lift his hand, not like on Mustafar.

Anakin returned his attention to little Annie. "You will stop crying," he repeated in an even tone. Yet there was anger remaining in his gaze and Padmé threw herself towards the end of the bed, scrambling to reach him. Horrible visions assailed her of little Annie gasping for breath as her handmaiden had just done, his little face turning blue from lack of oxygen.

"No! You will not choke my child! Give him to me! Now, Anakin!" She held out her hands, nearly close enough to grab Annie from him. One more inch....

He took a step back, voice cold. "Your child, my love?" His arms lowered, hands bringing Annie close to him, cradling him in one arm. "That's funny, because I thought it took both of us."

Tears wet her face. "Anakin please," Padmé whispered. She could hear Dormé gasping and coughing, tiny moans leaving her throat. "Let me have him." Her hands shook wildly.

Anakin took another step away from her. "All I want is a quiet moment with my son and every female in this apartment is determined to keep me from having it. Determined to keep me from my son. First Dormé, oh so helpful, and now you. I will not give him to you."

Little Annie went silent.

The change in Anakin was instantaneous. His lips turned up in a grin as he looked at little Annie. "There. You see? He likes me. Quiet. Patience was all I needed." He chuckled, pleased with himself. "Now, I'm taking my son on an outing. Your presence is not required." His grin lingered as he strode to Dormé, holding a hand out to her.

"I only wanted to help," she said in a raw, halting whisper. Her hair was a tangled mass over her shoulder, having slipped from its pins when she'd fallen to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Dormé," he replied, no hint of remorse in his voice at all. Anakin beckoned to her. "Give me your hand, I'll help you up."

Dormé sobbed, shook her head, pushing herself up onto her knees. "I don't...."

"Give me your hand."

"No, oh no...." She shied back from that hand he'd held out.

"Give it here."

Padmé could hear the impatience returning to Anakin's voice and gave Dormé a nod. No one could have missed the cringing shudder she gave as Anakin's hand closed about hers. He tugged her not gently to her feet.

"Are you all right, Dormé?" Parody of concern.

She bowed her head, not looking at him. "I'm fine."

"Ooh," he cooed. "Did I frighten you?"

Padmé watched her glance flick to him, then little Annie and back to the floor.

"So, so sorry." Anakin turned on his heel. "We'll be back later."

As soon as he was gone from sight, Dormé slid back to the floor, falling heavily, her sobs coming freely. Her shoulders shook and Padmé grabbed a blanket, taking it to her. She wrapped it about her friend, hugging her.

"I'm sorry, my lady. I didn't know. I never --" Her hands covered her face.

Padmé rocked her like she rocked her children, back and forth, slow and even. Soothing, gently rubbing Dormé's back. "I know. He can be very charming when he wants."

Suddenly, Dormé clutched at her, fingers digging into Padmé's arm so hard they hurt. "His eyes. I saw his eyes. My lady.... They were...." She broke off, shaking her head.

"I know. Believe me, I already know."

They remained that way until Shmi woke, Padmé comforting her friend.

~~~~~~~~~~

He got as far as the building entrance before little Annie began squirming again. The longest stretch so far. Vader paused.

"Stop crying," he ordered, which of course made the baby screech louder. Retreating back inside the building, he cradled the boy to him, once more trying to calm him. He paced, swayed, attempted to mimic that movement his wife used to soothe them. It didn't work.

He stilled, an ache forming across his brow from those shrill cries, staring down at his son. How was it that he could face enemies in battle, fearlessly pilot his ship in places no one else dared to go and use the Force to move objects and yet he couldn't get his children to calm down? Orders did no good, as the babies only cried louder and the more upset he became, the louder their cries! He sighed.

Vader searched his memory for anything he'd read on the subject and came up blank. There were plenty of experts that spoke on children crying and none had dealt with the sort of crying he faced from his children. What to do?

Gritting his teeth, he sank onto a bench, closed his eyes and gave those tender feelings for his children room to stretch out. Switching little Annie into his real arm's embrace, he stroked his mechanical forefinger over the boy's cheeks.

"Shh Annie. It's okay. Please stop crying. Just for a moment. Please."

As if in response to the much softer tone, the cries abated. Little Annie squirmed, blinked and kept squirming. Was he holding him too tightly? Perhaps he was over warm? Anakin eased his grip, opened the boy's collar.

Little Annie settled down.

"There," Anakin whispered with a little smile. "We get along just fine, don't we? Me and you. Me and my son. You know, I was terrified for your mother when you were in her belly, but she's okay. Nothing happened to her." Annie sighed, snuggling against him. Anakin felt tears in his eyes and blinked. He'd wanted to hold his children for so long now that he couldn't express his joy in it.

This child was his. This boy was his son. A bit of him and a bit of Padmé.

"You're my son."

His commlink chirped. Anakin ignored it, reluctant to give up the moment.

"I'm your father." A laugh left him and he shook his head. "I have a family."

The commlink would not stop chirping.

Anakin licked his lips, rocking little Annie.

How much time passed? He didn't know. He sat on that hard bench holding his son, enjoying the moment. After awhile, he ceased to notice the commlink and the incessant noises it made. Anakin was with his son and nothing else was close to that in importance. His son was what mattered.

One guard came towards him from across the lobby. "Sir?"

Anakin looked up, annoyed at the intrusion. "What?"

"There's a transmission for you in the office." The man gulped audibly. "It's the Emperor."

Vader stood. "I'll return in a few minutes." The boy was taken back upstairs.

Palpatine's message was clear. He waited on no one. Vader would answer when he was called or face the consequences. If he kept his Master waiting one more time.... Well, Vader got the thrust of the threat. He balled his hands into fists and stalked from the building.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dormé made her way to Padmé's favorite shop on the pretense of picking up swatches of fabric for a few new dresses. The mention of this put Anakin in a good mood. He was pleased Padmé planned to have more clothes made. He suggested she have 'something sensational' created for her, a one of a kind dress. Something to wear when they took over from Palpatine. A coronation dress.

He was surprisingly open with his plans, not bothering to guard his tongue around her and Dormé decided he still thought her an ally, as though his choking her hadn't changed a thing. Obviously nothing had changed in his view, as he still asked about Padmé each morning and continued to win at that game each night.

Three long weeks had passed since that day and Dormé found herself rarely saying anything to him if she could help it. How did her lady do it? How did she sleep beside that man each night, not to mention let him put his hands on her? Everything was startlingly clear to her now and she could not forgive herself for those first couple months.

She stepped into the shop, let her gaze travel the wondrous displays of fabrics. So many offerings. This shop held fabrics from all over the galaxy and the seamstresses were the best that could be found. Padmé had needed to be recommended to the shop in order to have clothes made for her there. Luckily, Bail Organa's wife had sent the recommendation when Padmé was still serving as Queen of Naboo. Padmé bought clothes here almost exclusively.

Dormé loved the shop almost as much as her lady did. She'd spent many a credit here, indulging herself in the sumptuous fabrics and taking them to a lesser known seamstress.

She took a deep breath and again looked about, this time for Sheltay Retrac. She was meeting Sheltay here. It would appear a chance meeting of two women who worked for friends. Dormé knew someone had to be following her. Anakin wouldn't not have her under surveillance, not when he had Padmé under guard at all hours.

"Dormé?" Sheltay's voice carried across the room, but no one even glanced up from browsing the fabric racks. "What are you doing here today?"

She watched Sheltay's tall, elegant figure coming towards her and let some of the tension along her back slip away. "Padmé wants a few new dresses. She sent me to pick out swatches."

"Ahh. I take it she's busy with those babies?"

"Extremely." They began walking the aisles, waving away the lone salesman who approached them, making small talk all the while. They covered what Padmé was up to, what was new on Alderaan and how utterly terrible it was that some worlds continued to pick fights. Slowly, they worked their way to the back of the store, behind the taller, ceremonial fabrics. The racks hid them from view.

Sheltay steered her towards the design room. "I'm here to take a final look at a few designs. Care to see them?"

Apparently, Sheltay's errand wasn't fabricated like Dormé's, for she called up several drawings the second they were alone, talking animatedly and in rather a silly, empty-headed fashion about each one as she slipped a datapad from her belt. Dormé looked at it, at what had been planned. Everything was set up.

They could leave as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Sheltay took the datapad back. "Do you approve, Dormé?

"Excellent work," she replied.

"I think so. The work of an artist. Well designed. All that's needed now is the word to go ahead."

They exited the room, parting company in the aisles. Dormé bought several swatches at random and as she was exiting the shop, she heard Sheltay's voice once more, continuing their charade.

"I'll contact you when they're done, Dormé. You can see them first."

With a cheerful wave, Sheltay turned away and Dormé stepped out into the sunlight.