When Angels Weep

Chapter: 17

~~~~~~~~~~

Three years later:

Nic Pelléres could not believe his horrid luck. He'd left Coruscant and everything he owned to escape being killed for losing Padmé Skywalker and who should he run into while hiding with the Rebellion? Padmé Skywalker, now calling herself Tyra Shevrin, though she was highly recognizable as herself in his opinion. Not only that but he'd been captured by the Empire during a raid that she'd orchestrated!

Hell. Life for him could not get much worse. He ran a hand though his hair, waiting for someone on this ship to get around to interrogating him. He'd already heard the screams of those who'd been captured with him and knew it wouldn't be long before they came for him. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to face the sort of pain he knew they'd set upon him. Nic was still young, with a lot of life left to live.

So what did he have to trade with? There had to be something the Empire wanted. What did he know that he could deal with and gain his freedom back? His desperate mind went over what he knew and he had to admit that there was precious little. He wasn't in the know. Nic wasn't a leader or privy to anything that went on in those kind of meetings. He was nothing more than an anonymous rebel sent to do the grunt work. Spying, stealing information, planting explosives. That sort of thing. He'd always been good at those things. The silent man following another in a crowd.

The thought brought him back to Padmé Skywalker and how he'd ended up with the Rebellion to begin with. Hiding out from Anakin Skywalker who'd put a steep price on his head. Staying away from that one had required delicate maneuvering at times. Yeah, Skywalker wanted them both. Him and Padmé. Padmé Skywalker. That woman was a thorn in his side and a pain in his ass.

He tapped his feet, crossed and uncrossed his arms. There had to be something....

What about Padmé? She was important. She was a leader. Rumor had it Skywalker was still looking for her too. Bringing her back to him ought to secure his freedom -- if he could manage not to get himself killed for his own running in the first place. Skywalker was not the forgiving sort.

Nic gulped, tugged at his collar. Had it just gotten tighter about his neck? No, just his over-active imagination. How could he spin his story to save himself? Nic thought for long minutes until an idea came to him. That was it! He'd tell Skywalker that he'd picked up Padmé's trail and had been planning to bring her back but had been mistakenly captured before he could do so.

Weak, Nic, he told himself. It might work though. Think it through a bit more and remember the golden rule about lying: keep it simple. Embellishing could get him tripped up. By the time guards came for him, he had his story ready.

He was taken to Tarkin himself, placed before him with hands still shackled. "You have information you're willing to share I believe you stated to my men?"

Nic licked his lips nervously. "Yes, I have information, but I'd like some assurances before I share it."

Tarkin's gaze was flat, devoid of emotion, as though he was disinterested in whatever Nic had to share. "Really. What sort of assurances would you like to secure, Mr. Pelléres?"

"Something special."

"Go on." Tarkin folded his hands on the table and waited.

A line of sweat ran down Nic's back, itching all the while. "I tell you what I know in exchange for being released."

"Tell me everything and I promise that some...special compensation will be yours." The smile on the man's thin lips gave Nic the shivers.

"I'll be released?"

"Oh, of course. I'll release you."

Nic told him about Padmé and about the name she used. He mentioned the upcoming raid and that Padmé would be going in first, before the men. She'd be almost alone, a perfect opportunity to capture her. He mentioned his story, which appeared to amuse the man. Then, he waited, chafing under Tarkin's unrelenting stare. "Well?"

The man tapped a finger on the table. "I'll need to verify it all, you understand."

"Of course."

He didn't even mind being shut back up in the cell. Tarkin had promised him he'd be released after all. Nic couldn't wait.

~~~~~~~~~~

Artoo was safe with Captain Antilles and Padmé was on her own. She'd been on her own before but this time it was different. She was letting herself be caught. How long had it taken the Empire to break Nic Pelléres? Padmé didn't think it had taken long at all, not the sort of man Nic was. Looking out for his own neck. He'd likely told all in minutes and this plan was in the Empire's possession.

She'd recognized Nic, that man Anakin had had following her before she'd left Coruscant for good. After three years, she'd still known him at a glance, wondered what he was doing there. Had he followed her? Was he under Anakin's orders? Careful probing had revealed that he himself had been dodging Anakin for three years.

Nic wasn't as careful as he liked to think he was. He'd been bounced about the rebellion, kept as ignorant of plans and locations as they could manage. No one fully trusted him and for good reason. He was not trustworthy. He'd sell anyone to save his own neck.

Which Padmé was counting on. His presence and the certainty that he'd recognized her had prodded her to take this final action.

She sighed. This plan, this carefully constructed plan. There was no raid, only Padmé by herself, letting the Empire take her to Anakin. Would he be there already or would she have to wait for him to arrive? Had time mellowed his anger with her any? Three years was a very long time to be mired in ire.

Padmé remembered the past three years. Oh how her arms had ached to hold her husband and children! Little Leia already a beauty at age three, her dark eyes showing a maturity beyond her young years. Padmé had spent precious few hours with her daughter, always when Bail was gone. And Luke, whom she'd not held since setting him in Dormé's arms. Did Luke look like Anakin, she wondered. Was he anything like his father?

And as for Dormé, her ever faithful friend. Had Dormé heeded Padmé's final order to take herself to an isolated planet and start a new life, or would she rise up as a leader in the Rebellion once word of Padmé's capture spread? She'd never know.

Padmé ached for the life she and Anakin could have had together. For the children they could have had. For a quiet life on Naboo with their love never giving them this pain. Most of all, she ached because she knew now that what could have been never really could have been at all.

They had dreamed together a beautiful and wholly unrealistic dream and Padmé treasured those brief moments when the dream had been real and their love had conquered all.

She treasured that kiss long ago that she never should have given him.

Padmé landed the ship, checked that she had what she needed and went to the ramp. The area looked deserted, but she caught a flashing of metal in the sunlight ahead on her right. Now or never, she thought, and left the relative safety of her ship. She never even got close to the facility, troops surrounding her, placing bonds at her wrists and leading her away. They seemed surprised that she didn't resist. Soon, she was facing Tarkin, allowing a tiny smile to tug at her lips.

How her efforts over the past three years must have frustrated this man!

He looked at her, eyes like cold hard chips and his thin lips tight together. He was not amused, his expression indicated. Padmé had the sudden urge to giggle. "Padmé Skywalker. Or is it Tyra Shevrin? No matter. Two names for the same woman. What an honor to have a criminal such as yourself aboard my ship."

Padmé held her tongue. She'd speak with Anakin and no other.

"I'll be informing your husband of your capture. He'll be ecstatic to see you alive," he remarked in a dry tone.

With that, she was led away.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tarkin was having a wonderful week. He'd tortured two rebels, made a deal he had no intention of keeping with the third and he'd captured Vader's wife. A good week indeed. Now all he had to do was hand Pelléres and Padmé to Vader and he could go back to task of building the battle station. Finally. He was beginning to think the Emperor didn't want him to make any progress after all.

Vader's image flickered a bit then held steady. "Yes?"

"Lord Vader," Tarkin said. "I have excellent news for you. You'll be pleased to hear that I have not only your errant wife in custody, but also the independent security officer you've been searching for."

A pleased expression crossed Vader's face, anticipation rolled up in it. "Thank you. Expect my arrival by tonight."

Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Tarkin decided to catch up on reports while he waited. Let Padmé sit by herself and wonder when Vader would come for her.

~~~~~~~~~~

There was anger still in him at her and also relief that she still lived. A tiny sliver of relief but there nonetheless. He had not stopped caring for her simply because she'd run off. No, his emotions had remained heavy inside him.

Vader stepped onto Tarkin's ship, walked with him now to where Padmé was being held.

"She was unarmed," Tarkin was saying.

Vader was irritated with himself for feeling the slightest twinge of anticipation in seeing her again. He walked faster, Tarkin keeping pace.

"She had only one object in her possession." The man raised a hand, disclosing what he held in it. "A game piece from a silly war game. She relinquished it readily. We assured her that you'd see it."

Vader stopped, took the piece and clenched it in his hand. "My wife, still fighting for a lost cause. A dead cause. Let's see how smug she is when she's back on Coruscant where she belongs instead of out playing rebel."

Outside the door, Tarkin paused. "I'll leave her to you then. Pelléres will be waiting when you're done here."

He watched Tarkin until he turned the corner, then transferred his stare to the door. Three years. Three years without her beside him, without her smile and her voice. Three years of pain.

Vader stepped inside to confront his wife.

~~~~~~~~~~

She felt his stare upon her and kept her own stare directed out the window. The Rebellion was organized as well as she would manage. They would be stable without her, she'd seen to that. Losing her wasn't an unrecoverable blow.

Padmé kept her hands relaxed, ignored the bonds about her wrists, preferring to wait for him to speak first. Would he wait until they were alone or would he air old hurts before all?

"Leave us."

She watched the guard's reflections in the glass, saw them go without one word. Behind her, Anakin paced, his strides graceful and predatory. Padmé looked over her shoulder at him.

He held up the game piece as he walked. "Your command piece, Padmé. I've captured it. This time you were careless. I've won this game."

"Have you, Anakin? That's funny, because I don't see your army surrounding my other two pieces."

"This isn't a game!" He threw the piece across the room. The table began to shake.

"No," she replied coolly. "It's war."

He calmed himself visibly, taking a long breath and letting it out slowly. The table stopped moving. "With my own wife playing rebel. A traitor."

She turned. The rebellion was comprised of those loyal to democracy. From his point of view, she supposed that would make her a traitor. From her own point of view, he was the traitor. Him and everyone else loyal to Palpatine. "I don't play, Anakin." She raised her chin a notch. "Surely you remember that."

He shook his head. "Don't call me that. My name is Vader and your rebel force is little more than a nuisance."

"Yet you've searched so hard for us. That claim doesn't sound true, does it? If we mean so little then why look for us?"

"You've hit nothing important. You are playing. Insignificant."

"Just wait. When the time is right, your...Empire will fall."

"You're dreaming, Padmé." With a mirthless smile, he said the very words she'd once said to him. "We live in a real world. Come back to it."

"Look where we are, Anakin. Take a good, long look at the two of us. You're on the wrong side." The man he'd once been was not evident. He was buried under three years of darkness. Three years of Vader. Still, Padmé couldn't lose hope. The man she'd once loved, her Annie, was there somewhere inside him.

He was all adult now, the hint of boy gone from him. Padmé saw a maturity there that had not been present the last time she'd seen him face to face. He was so different from the little boy on Tatooine those long years ago. It saddened her to see the progression from that boy to this man.

She refused to call him Vader, that new name he went by. Perhaps using his real name could spark his true self to view. Or not. What did she have to lose by trying? Padmé was caught, his triumph in the air. He thought he'd trapped her, that she'd walked unknowingly into a trap.

No, she'd walked willingly. Things were unfinished between them and after three years, she couldn't bear it to continue any longer. Hers was a suicide mission, for only two things could occur. She'd live imprisoned by him or die trying to save him. There was no middle ground. One thing or the other. Anakin would return to the light or remain forever in darkness.

Padmé saw no other possibilities. Either way, she'd said her goodbyes. She could live or die and it would not affect this war. The Republic would rise again some day and the Empire would die.

"I'm on the winning side. It's the right one."

She watched him.

~~~~~~~~~~

"I've carried something with me as well, my love." From a pouch on his belt, he drew out the japor snippet. He'd bought a new chain for it in anticipation of this day. Going to her, he slipped it about her neck, rested the carved piece at her breast. "There. That's better. Where it belongs." He might have smiled then, had he not glanced up to see her face.

Her cool staring eyes were dispassionate, as though she felt nothing.

If Vader could feel regret, at that moment he would have. Never again would he know her passionate kisses or the gentle touch of her hand. It was hellish to realize that this woman would never be his. She was caught, trapped here with him and yet, Padmé was further away from him than she'd ever been.

His real hand raised, backs of his fingers smoothing along her cheek.

Vader recalled a warm sunny day on Naboo, the breeze gently blowing across the lake. He remembered her skin, so soft beneath his fingertips and the tilt of her head in invitation. He thought of her lips against his and he longed for the kiss she never should have given him.

That time was gone now, as though it had been nothing more than the wisp of a dream he'd conjured up to ease the aching loneliness inside him. Padmé was lost. No matter what he did, she'd never again belong to him.

And so, he'd bring their children back, reunite them and they'd be a family. Not exactly as he'd envisioned, but a family nonetheless. He would then kill Palpatine and rule the galaxy alone. Padmé would remain at home, a mother only, under guard to keep her there. Not an Empress or even a treasured wife.

It was her choice.

He'd tried to give her the galaxy and she'd chosen this instead.

Not what he'd envisioned at all, but he could live with it. He'd take what he could get.

So be it.

"I loved you," he murmured.

Padmé blinked, her calm unwavering. He might as well have told her the day was rainy on Naboo for all the emotion his words caused. "You loved power. It was Anakin who loved me. Don't confuse the two."

He gritted his teeth, struggling to keep his detachment, to show her he had as much control as she. But Padmé made him madder faster than anyone else in the galaxy and he whirled, leaving her alone in the room. He gave the guards instructions and went to see Nic Pelléres.

~~~~~~~~~~

Nic disliked Tarkin with a passion. The man was slimy and frankly made his skin crawl. However, he remained polite as the man chatted with him. And why not? He was about to be released. Tarkin had said so. He drummed his fingers on the table top, wondering why the delay. Couldn't they just shove him in a small ship and let him go?

His bonds had been removed and he'd even been given a decent meal. The food was a bit better than the food he'd had with the Rebellion, but not by much.

"We are grateful for your information," Tarkin was saying. "My colleague was quite pleased with your efforts on our behalf. In fact, he should be here any moment to share his feelings on the matter."

As though it had been planned, the door opened and Anakin Skywalker stepped into the room. Nic pushed to his feet so fast his chair tipped over.

"Oh there you are, Lord Vader. I'll be on the bridge."

The former Jedi had his lightsaber out and on with the flick of his wrist.

"But," Nic stuttered, "You promised I'd be released!"

Tarkin gave him another thin smile. "Well I never said to who." Then he was gone, leaving Nic alone with Skywalker.

Anakin twirled his lightsaber in lazy movements. The blade danced in the air. "So good to see you Nic."

"I brought her back. I told them how to find her. I've been following her these three years." He was babbling, saying those same sentences over and over. Skywalker gave him a polite smile and continued to play with his weapon.

"Of course you were. You spent three whole years knowing where she was and didn't think to turn her in until you were caught yourself. Is that it?"

Well...yes. If he wanted to be technical about it. Nic took a few steps back.

"Did she trust you?"

Still, the man had not moved from the door, his movements slowing as he waited for an answer. "I think so."

"And you betrayed her in minutes?"

No emotion. Nic hadn't expected that. The Skywalker he remembered was hot tempered and quick to act. It was almost like this man was not him. Bizarre. "I suppose it could be put that way."

Skywalker was to him in a blink, mechanical hand grasping his shirtfront a lifting him high in the air. "You suppose? You betray everyone, don't you? You hold nothing dear. You have no loyalty to anyone or anything."

"I've told everything I know," he gasped, grasping at Skywalker's arm. The cloth of his shirt was twisted, hurting. "You can take the rebel leaders now."

"And we will. Thank you, but we needed no help from you on that matter. The rebels are nothing."

Nothing? Nic wondered if the Empire was truly aware of the network the rebels had set up. It was no puny thing to be squashed in a matter of days. The rebel movement was sweeping the galaxy, garnering more support as time went on. If they didn't capture the leaders now, it could last for years more.

He wondered if he should tell Skywalker that.

"Tarkin promised I'd be released."

Skywalker dropped him, watched him stumble back, still emotionless. Then he smiled a horrible smile. "Then I release you, Nic."

He had just enough time to see the red blade swinging towards him.