When Angels Weep

Chapter: 2

Notes: Thank you to GemL for the beta work. It was greatly appreciated.

~~~~~~~~~~

Vader lay on the floor of Palpatine's office, unable to comprehend how he'd gotten there. One moment, he'd been poised to strike, and the next he was flat on his back, his lightsaber in Palpatine's grasp. He'd been blocked. How did that happen? He was stronger than Palpatine. Wasn't he?

The extent of power his new master held was now much clearer. Vader's lightsaber was deactivated, set aside and he had scant seconds to register the raising of the man's fingertips before agony ripped through him. Vader felt what Mace Windu must have, pain that lanced through his body on a cellular level.

A scream tore from him and he rolled, twisted and turned, trying to escape yet unable. No matter how he moved, his nerves were assaulted, no part of him free of the stinging kiss. It felt like hours, though he knew it had to be mere seconds. A taste. A glimpse of how his master could punish if he chose to.

And he'd not even had a chance to swing his lightsaber.

Somehow, Palpatine had known.

The pain abated, Vader's breath coming in harsh pants. He could hear animalistic grunts leaving his throat and opened his eyes to find Palpatine standing over him.

"A reminder, my young apprentice, of your place. Learn it well. Do not attempt this again."

He was dismissed, cheeks burning from his failure as he got to his feet. He stumbled several times, off-balance and woozy, falling heavily to his knees when he bumped against a chair. Stretching out a hand, he brought his lightsaber flying to him, tucking it along his belt and forcing himself to stand and leave the office.

Vader gritted his teeth. He felt worse under Palpatine's reprimand then he ever had under Obi-Wan's.

Your place.

No. If that was his place, on his knees, then it was temporary.

Everyone he passed seemed to have a knowing smirk, privy to his failure and he stalked out of the building, gaining confidence with every step until he once more strode with his head high and shoulders thrown arrogantly back. Too soon. He'd gone too soon to kill Palpatine. That's what had happened. He wasn't ready yet. He needed to practice that patience Obi-Wan had always been going on about and hone his skills.

For that matter, Padmé wasn't ready either. She needed time. They both needed time. Him to grow into his new powers and her to gain her strength. And so, that was their course of action. They'd bide their time and once they were both strong enough, they'd kill Palpatine and rule the galaxy as it should be ruled.

~~~~~~~~~~

Her dreams were a twisted jumble of images, few of them pleasant. Padmé drifted through uneasy slumber, her mind calling forth all manner of horrible images, all starring Anakin. She dreamt of him slaughtering children, dragging them up in the grasp of his mechanical hand and impaling their small bodies with his lightsaber. She dreamt of him choking her and of a thousand other things she'd never imagined he'd be capable of.

Long hours after he'd laid her on the bed, she woke with a dry mouth and mild headache, still mostly dressed in the clothes she'd worn to Mustafar. The detached sleeves were gone, as were her boots. The clothing she still wore carried the sulfurous, unpleasant odor of Mustafar.

Padmé sat up slowly, listening for the sounds of others in the apartment. Somehow, she didn't think she'd been left alone. That might give her an opportunity to leave. There was no way Anakin was going to give her such a chance, not when he was determined no one would take her from him.

She pressed a hand to her belly, feeling the comforting push of a baby and then pangs of hunger. She needed to bathe, then find food, in that order. Padmé removed the fastenings from her hair, running one hand through the length. The tension along her brow eased somewhat. Not enough however. A strange mix of groggy relaxation and wary tension seemed to flow in her veins. The combination was not welcome.

Padmé swung her legs over the side of the bed, another, urgent need surfacing as the babies kicked inside her. She made her way to the refresher. When she returned to the bedroom, she felt better, the stink of Mustafar gone from her hair and skin, replaced by the soothing scent of Naboo wildflowers.

She was going to have to begin distancing herself, a difficult process that was going to be painful emotionally. If she didn't, Anakin was going to sense something. Padmé couldn't allow him to realize her half-formed plans.

Not an easy order, but wholly necessary. Could she do it?

The bedroom felt blessedly cool, a contrast to the heat she'd felt on Mustafar. Outside, she saw the darkness of night and the many twinkling lights of Coruscant. Padmé chose a nightgown, something simple that would cover her when Anakin inevitably returned. She no longer felt comfortable to think of his gaze upon her. Having this man's eyes on her body would be too much like a stranger stalking her.

I should get used to it, shouldn't I, she thought, running a hand along the light green silky folds of fabric. She had to find it within her to let the revulsion slip away into nothingness because it was highly doubtful he was going to live anywhere else. The Jedi were gone, no obstruction to their marriage. He'd do as he pleased and he'd be pleased to live here where the galaxy could see him.

She dropped her towel to the floor and lifted the nightgown, pulling it over her head.

Lingering hands helped settle it into place. She gasped, whirling, Anakin's hands catching hold of her bare arms. He was dressed for bed, sleep pants riding low and chest bare. Her heart beat fast, alarm raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She hadn't even heard him there. Not a single sound announced his presence. That he could enter a room with such quickness and silence horrified her.

"You are so beautiful," he breathed softly, fingers sliding along her arms, touch tickling, smile slow and warm, as though nothing had changed between them. Perhaps for him there was no change. Once, his smile had caused a quickening of her heartbeat and a blush to heat her cheeks. At this moment, her heartbeat still quickened, but not from attraction.

From fear.

She jerked back, tried to anyway. Anakin didn't release her. "Don't touch me."

"Why not? You are my wife. A man is allowed to touch his wife." Defiant triumph glittered in his gaze. Anakin stepped closer and she felt the heat of his body against her. "I could shout our marriage from the rooftops if I choose." He'd wanted for so long to tell the galaxy of their relationship. Nothing was in his way, no Jedi to disapprove of the attachment. Anakin was the Jedi, the very last one.

"Let me go," Padmé said, continuing to pull backward on the off-chance he'd take her wishes into account. Her hands raised to push him away, palms touching his bare chest. How was it that only a few days earlier she'd run her hands over this same spot of flesh without one bit of distaste inside her?

Because, came the answer in her mind. A few days ago he was Annie. Your Annie. Your husband. Since then he's become a stranger who only wears his face.

She shoved at him, lips twisting with a sob she refused to loose. No crying, wasn't that what he wanted, what he'd demanded?

His left hand lifted from her arm, burying in her hair, grasping a handful and turning her head up. Her efforts to push him away were ignored, as though he didn't consider them worthy of attention. "You're not being very wifely, Padmé." He was displeased, brows lowering in a thunderous frown.

"You're not my husband," she snapped, continuing her efforts to free herself. Briefly, she considered giving him a hard punch in the stomach and reconsidered as a vision assailed her of him on Mustafar with his hand raised, directing her throat to close in his anger. Would it happen again? How soon before he lost control of his temper once more? Was he close now?

Anakin rolled his eyes. Impatience was etched on features she still found handsome. "And you're not starting that again. I won't hear that sort of nonsense from you. I am your husband and you are my wife. That's it. That's how it is."

She was released, his mood turning back to light-hearted so quickly that she was left blinking in stunned relief. The place at the back of her head where he'd grabbed her was tender and she touched it gingerly.

"You must be hungry. It's been hours since you've eaten. Can't have you starving yourself and the babies, now can we?"

"Babies?" Padmé kept a surprised lilt to her voice. She wasn't supposed to know there were two.

"Yes. Twins." He brushed his fingers over her belly. "I accessed your medical records."

"Why?"

Anakin tilted his head, half turned away from her. His sideways glance was sly. "To see what else you may have been keeping from me."

Padmé swept by him, walking towards the living area. Her medical records. Confidential records no one should have access to at whim. "Those were confidential, Anakin."

He followed her. "Are you sure you don't want to know the sexes?"

She found food waiting for her, set out on one tiny table and sat, lifting the cover off the plate. Her mouth watered from the delicious smells. "You can't just access private records--"

"That's where you're wrong, my love. I can do anything. I can check my wife's records out of worry for her condition. No one tried to stop me. No one asked questions."

"They didn't ask, or you made them forget they'd asked?"

His eyes narrowed, danger lurking in the depths. "Don't provoke me. You don't know what my afternoon was like."

Padmé felt the blood draining from her face and turned her regard to her plate. She took shallow breaths until she decided she wasn't going to do something stupid, like faint. Food. She should eat, yes? The meal might as well have been tasteless for all she was able to enjoy it. It was simply nourishment, something to keep her and the babies alive.

Anakin watched her as she ate, his gaze fixed upon her. Padmé resisted the urge to tug her nightgown bodice higher, feeling rather like a performer in a play from such rapt attention. She cleared her throat. "Where's Dormé? I thought I saw her here earlier."

"She was here. I told her she could have the rest of the evening for herself. It was touching how she didn't want to leave you, but she gave in without much argument. She's promised to stay on."

Padmé made no comment, not wanting to appear too eager to have a friend near. Better to show him calm acceptance. She took a final bite of her dinner and pushed the plate aside. "What now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what happens now?"

Anakin rested his arms along the table edge. He looked her over. "We live our lives together. Simple."

"Is it?"

"Of course it is." The plate was set aside, his left hand stretching across the table to grasp at her right one.

She allowed the contact for a single second before pulling away. Any longer and he might notice her hand shaking. She placed both hands in her lap, clasping them tight together. It didn't help, her whole body beginning to tremble. Don't let fear control you, she reminded herself. Master it, don't let it master you. But it was so hard with her body all out of whack from pregnancy. She was far more emotional in situations where she shouldn't show her emotions than she'd ever been. It frustrated her to be this way. Especially at this moment.

"I'll be here now that the war is over. You'll have the babies and all three of you will be healthy. There'll be no dying. It won't happen. We live our lives."

Padmé got up from the table. She was restless, wanting to walk, to run, to do something active to escape. "Nothing is ever simple, Anakin. You know that."

"This is simple, Padmé. You'll see."

For awhile, she tried to read. Her mind wouldn't remain on the story, though it was one she'd wanted to read for a long while and never quite had the time to read for enjoyment. Setting it aside, she looked out the window at the night. Never had time crawled by this excruciatingly slow.

Not to mention that Anakin's stare was unnerving her. He seemed to have nothing better to do than to watch her. He didn't meditate or speak or...anything. He just stared. Finally, Padmé decided she'd throw on some clothes and go out. She'd take a walk. It wasn't very late and she could certainly use the fresh air after Mustafar's poisons. Making her way to the bedroom, she tossed some loose clothing onto the bed and considered whether or not to add a cloak to cover her belly.

Did it matter if she hid her pregnancy? Padmé suspected it wouldn't be long before Anakin made everyone aware of her state, so why should she bother keeping the fact covered? Because it was habit. She'd not had the chance to enjoy the pretty maternity clothing other women did, the clothes that showed off the expectant state. Oh, she'd added pretty pieces to her wardrobe as her waistline increased. How could she resist? Yet she'd added pieces that detracted from the belly, minimizing, slenderizing. Hiding.

She reached for the matching cloak.

Anakin's voice stopped her. "Where do you think you're going," he asked, leaning against the doorframe in a casual pose that emphasized the lean, strong line of his body.

"For a walk. It's close in here."

"Then go out on the balcony."

"I want to walk."

"No." He answered as though she'd asked him if she could go.

"No?" Her eyes widened in question. She shook her head, smoothing the clothes she'd laid out, then returning her attention to him, looking for any sign of growing anger. "I'm going." Decisive words with a hint of telling tremor to them. Did he hear it?

"Not without me and I don't feel like taking a walk tonight. I've had a long day. You're going to remain here and rest. You need rest." A half smile pulled one corner of his mouth. His head tilted back a little. "You can't leave the apartment yet. I mean, you're not yourself, telling me I'm not your husband when I know I am. Dormé knows I am. Palpatine knows. You deny it." His hand raised, fingers scratching lazily at his chest. "Could be you're not in your right mind. Have to be watched. That's the general consensus, Padmé. You need to stay here."

"I want to take a walk, Anakin."

"Well, we don't always get what we want, now do we?"

Frowning, Padmé crossed her arms. She opened her mouth several times to continue, no sound coming out. Anakin's expression was expectant, brows raising as he waited. "I'm going to bed," she said softly, feeling her lower lip begin to quiver and knowing that in seconds she was going to start bawling whether he cared for it or not.

Smirking and without another word, he turned, sauntering from view. She put a hand over her mouth, giving in to tears as she sank into the chair beside her closet.

I can't do this, she thought. Am I to be a prisoner in my own home?

The effort it had taken to remain calm during the meal had worn her out. Padmé put away those clothes she'd gotten out, then climbed into bed. She slipped into sleep not ten minutes later.

~~~~~~~~~~

She was an angel. Anakin had thought her that the first moment he'd seen her and he'd continued to consider her his Angel ever since. He'd been captivated by her expressive, kind eyes and her caring manner. Her embrace had comforted when he'd been cold. His beloved Angel.

Anakin had grown, become an adult and Padmé was still his Angel. He adored watching her as she slept, knowing they had so little time together, each moment precious, something to be treasured. He held those moments in his mind, a balm to soothe the ache of being parted.

She slept on her back, the covers askew across her belly, one arm under her pillow and the other flung to the side towards him. The light filtering in from the window didn't quite reach her slumbering form, the room too dark to see her clearly. He considered her features from memory, ran an imaginary finger along the slope of her nose and across the curve of her cheek. Anakin drew that imaginary hand down, let it caress her belly.

He recalled the flutter of the baby against his palm, that wondrous push of a new life. One of the babies, he corrected. Plural. Joy sparked in him. She was alive. The babies were alive. They were healthy.

A tear trickled down his cheek.

"For you," he whispered, closing his eyes.

Vader opened them, wiped the tear away and left the room without another glance at the sleeping woman.

~~~~~~~~~~

The offices were quiet and still. Everyone had gone home save for a few souls still working deep in the building. In the office of the Chancellor, Palpatine sat in his chair thinking over the complication of Anakin Skywalker's wife. The woman's dangerous hold over the boy had to be negated. He had to neutralize the threat of her somehow since she was, regrettably, alive.

But how? What method would best make her little more than a pesky bug to swat at leisure?

He steepled his fingers together.

What would fiery, opinionated Padmé fear most to happen to her? He knew the young woman, had glimpsed her courage and skills. She didn't fear death, though that would come for her in good time. It had to be something that would terrify her into submission, render her useless. She had to be unable to act out.

A sudden idea sprung forth, brilliant in its deviousness.

Cut her off. Make her as an island in a vast ocean. Alone. Make her dependant upon...Vader. Take each and every freedom she held dear from her in a methodical, logical way until she must call Vader master to even take a stroll outside the apartment. Break her will. Isolate her from friends, family and colleagues.

She'd have nowhere to turn, dependant upon the boy which would fuel that one's needy arrogance, thereby making him more attached to her. And so on and so forth, snowballing into a completely parasitic and unhealthy relationship until her death shattered whatever tiny sliver of Anakin still remained intact in Vader's mind.

He almost clapped his hands with glee. Yes. Yes. It'd take awhile longer than originally planned, but in the end, Palpatine would still have a fully broken man to build up as he chose. There was such potential for Vader with her alive still. He sensed the whole of it now. Anakin's need for her could be twisted further, taken to darker levels. He could be made needier, as dependant upon her as she would be on him.

Why, Palpatine could almost feel Anakin's anguish already for the eventual loss of his family! The power of it would be...glorious.