Amidala sat on her bed, staring at nothing, taking several deep, cleansing breaths. This was part of her routine now, this relaxation technique that Obi-Wan had taught her. It had never worked particularly well, but it allowed her to keep her wits about her.

And that was no easy task. The stress of the last couple of months…there was no way for her to even describe it. All she knew was that there was a clamp around her heart, which was crushing and suffocating her. Every time she thought of him. Every time she thought of what might happen to the twins.

If only she could talk to him. Or just see him, or hold him. If only she could make him come home to her.

A few months ago, he had simply disappeared. No one had heard anything from him since. They had only heard rumors about him, about what he was doing. Amidala had been reluctant to believe any of the stories – he couldn't possibly have done those things, not her Ani. But too many people (Jedi mostly) had seen him.

Her first instinct was to hunt him down, to follow wherever the rumors led her, to try and fix whatever it was that had gone so terribly wrong. Of course, Obi-Wan and Yoda had warned her against it repeatedly, but she didn't care…at least not until she found out that she was pregnant. All her plans were thrown out the window – she couldn't risk any contact with him now. If Palpatine were to find her…he would find out about their children…

So, Yoda had taught her how to shield her thoughts as a part of the new precautions she had to take. She proved far more successful at that than the relaxation techniques…and that success was a cause of both relief and heartache for her. Yes, she was keeping their children safe, but now there was nothing left of her connection to Anakin.

Almost nothing.

Amidala crawled into bed and wrapped herself tightly in the blankets. She was completely exhausted. But sleeping had been increasingly difficult the last few weeks. She was apprehensive every time she thought of it.

He would be there. In her dreams.

It was the only place she didn't seem to be able to block him out. On some subconscious level, he was still able to communicate with her. She wondered if he was doing it purposely…she doubted it. She never got any kind of a clear message from him, and never sensed that he was trying to probe her thoughts. Amidala felt, quite literally, as though she were trapped in his head…she had once "slept" for over twelve hours, despite numerous attempts to wake her, while in the throws of one of those dreams. Still, when she woke up, she wasn't able to tell much of what had happened.

It was all so vague, confusing – the only thing that came through clearly were the emotions: both his and hers, both positive and negative. They almost overwhelmed her at times, and seemed to linger with her for days.

But when it came down to it, they were all that was left of her connection to him. She craved and feared her dreams at the same time.

Amidala shook her head and sighed, and willed herself to sleep.

**********

**********

Anakin knelt – eyes closed, hands on his thighs, body absolutely still. His Sith Infiltrator continued to race toward Coruscant.

Meditation had never been one of Anakin's favorite tasks. His connection to the Force was always better felt through action – racing, flying, fighting…anything was better than just sitting there…waiting.

He hadn't attempted a meditation since he had joined Lord Sidious. There was little reason for it now.

You're afraid to.

That thought was discarded quickly. He wasn't afraid of any deep contemplation of what he was doing; it simply wasn't necessary. He knew what he was doing. He had made his decisions.

No, the reason he had begun the exercises again didn't have anything to do with that. It had to do with her.

Leaving her had been his only true regret in all of this. But he didn't intend for their separation to be permanent. She just couldn't be with him now – it was far too dangerous. He wasn't about to bring her to every battle-scarred system in the Republic. She didn't need to see all of the destruction and suffering.

You don't want her to see you. To see what you're doing.

Once it was all finally over, once the war was finished and order was restored…the first thing he planned to do was bring her to Coruscant. She would live as an Empress, as the First Lady of the new Empire. Anakin felt an electric rush of anticipation at thought. He was so close to having everything in place…

No. That piece will never fall into place.

Anakin jumped, and his eyes flew open. That wasn't his voice. It was hers. And while he had gotten quite skilled at ignoring the words of his own conscience, he still felt compelled to listen to her.

And she was telling him that she didn't understand. She couldn't see the hypocrisy of the Jedi, or the decadence of the Republic. She didn't believe that drastic change was needed.

She was confused.

He didn’t blame her. After all, she was surrounded by Jedi and politicians and Rebels. Who knew what they were telling her, what stories she had heard about him? It disgusted him to even think about it. But he would convince her. He would explain.

Of course, he would have to find her first.

After he left, Anakin had kept a close eye on her. He read each and every report that came out of Naboo, and reached out to her constantly through their mental link.

Then, explicably, she completely vanished. She left Naboo, and he couldn't figure out where she had gone. And their mental connection was entirely severed. Anakin had gone into a tailspin, panicked and terrified – what had happened to her? He couldn't fully bring himself to consider the possibility that she was dead, but subconsciously, that fear nearly drove him mad.

When the visions started, Anakin's relief was beyond description. She was still alive, still connected to him, still communicating with him…whether she was aware of what she was doing or not. It had started in his dreams, and he wondered now if he would be able to strengthen their bond, and focus the visions, through meditation.

And what would you say to her?

The voice was tired and sad. After a moment's hesitation, he ignored it. Anakin closed his eyes again, and went into a meditative trance.

**********

**********

Naboo. This was Naboo.

She had no real way of telling that. She couldn’t see anything in the murky darkness. She could hear nothing except her own breathing.

But something about this place screamed of home to her. It was familiar somehow.

Amidala stretched out her arms blindly, searching and clawing, but only found air. She was tempted to just stand there, and wait for whatever was coming…but she felt compelled to start walking. So she did, slowly. Small steps, still reaching out for something, listening for anything that would convince her she wasn’t walking through a vacuum.

She wondered vaguely where he was. Usually, she could at least sense him, feel him, something. But now she had the curious sensation of being alone.

No, she was never alone in these dreams. He was here.

Her hands suddenly came up against a wall, and a wave of relief washed over her. At least it was a solid object. It was smooth and cool…it felt like marble. Like the walls in the Palace.

Yes, the hallways of the Palace. A thousand memories rushed through her, memories of happier times. Memories of her friends, her handmaidens, her advisors, her family.

How she hated it here.

What? That wasn’t right. She loved it here so much that it hurt to remember it.

Anakin… Those were his feelings. He hated it here. He was disgusted by the very thought of it. He wanted out. Now.

Amidala leaned against the wall, trying to fight off the despair she felt at that realization. It was nothing new – he seemed to feel nothing but disgust for everyone and everything that represented his old life. Whenever she woke up from this horrid dream, that fact would undoubtedly depress her.

But she couldn’t let herself be distracted now. Any detail here might be important; she had to pay close attention. This was his realm, and she would simply have to accept whatever he dealt out.

Accept that he hates our home?

Yes, apparently that’s what she would have to do. The Palace would never look this way, the way he was envisioning it. Usually, the sun poured in from the windows, bathing every corner in a healthy, beautiful glow. The marble shone brilliantly; Amidala had often joked that you could see yourself in the floor if you looked hard enough. Amidala looked idly down at her feet –

– and felt a chill shoot through her, making her hair stand on end and her skin break out in goosebumps. It probably wasn’t the wall that was making her cold, but she moved away from it anyway, rubbing her forearms in a vain attempt to keep warm. She started walking again, down the hallway, shivering, when she realized that she could see her breath.

Looking around wildly, she found a small sliver of light dancing across the floor of the hallway. She headed for it, even though she could feel that he didn’t want to go wherever it was headed. He was trying to run the other way, trying to pull her back, but he eventually relented and went with her.

To their chambers.

He had never dreamt of home in this detail before. Her heart fluttered happily. She so desperately wanted to believe there was some positive element she could glean from these visions. But he never let her do that. Even now, she felt repulsed – or rather, she felt his revulsion. It almost made her sick. Still, she fought the urge to leave, and instead looked around at their room.

Their room. You could hardly call it that. Nothing that belonged to either one of them was present. No clothes. No books. No pictures. Nothing. Only the furniture remained, and that was royal property anyway, not hers.

And he was happy about that. He was suddenly much more at ease.

Amidala tried to ignore him, and instead found comfort in what little was left. Her desk, her bureau, their couch…a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She sat on their bed (which was missing their sheets), and reveled in the feel of the room, despite Anakin’s misgivings. The little chrono that woke her up every morning. The chiffon curtains that adorned the windows. The mirror she checked herself in before she left for the day…the mirror that wasn’t hanging on the wall as it should be.

Her vanity was missing its mirror as well. Odd. Neither of them was hers, so why wouldn’t they be there? Amidala stood and went to the wall, staring as though she might see her reflection.

"Ami?"

Her heart stopped. She was certain it missed at least two beats. He was speaking to her. Directly to her. That had never happened before. She hadn’t even heard his voice prior to this.

But instead of running to him, she remained rooted in her position, looking at the wall. She was too scared to turn around. She didn’t want to see him. She didn't want them to see each other.

That part of her that was her, that was separate from his feelings, practically screamed out in agony. She had to talk to him. There were so many questions to ask, so many things she needed to say to him. What was she doing? What was wrong with her? He didn’t want them to face each other, but that shouldn’t matter. She needed to see him, to look into those eyes that she missed so much. Eyes so blue, and so clear, she could she almost see herself when she looked at him.

She finally turned around. And he was gone.

Amidala eyes opened slowly. She was awake again. She glanced at the chrono. It was late, but it didn’t matter. She needed to speak to Obi-Wan.

She thought that maybe she understood.

*****

"Amidala, please, you must calm down," Obi-Wan said wearily. It was an obscene hour of the morning, and Amidala had knocked on his door, nearly hysterical about another dream she had just had. As always, she couldn’t begin to explain what happened.

He was tired of hearing about them…not that he would ever stop listening. There was always the chance that he might figure something helpful out, piece something together. Yet, all he had found so far was affirmation of his failure. She told him of Anakin’s fear, and hatred, and anger…how could he not have shored Anakin against the most basic Dark Side emotions –

"Obi-Wan?"

He sighed. "I’m sorry, Amidala. Tell me what happened."

"There was a moment where it made sense…I…he…didn’t want to look at the floors…and then the mirrors were gone. He didn’t even want me to look at the wall, in case I saw a reflection…"

"Amidala, this isn’t making much sense. Did you feel anything different?"

Her eyes snapped up to his. "Yes. I did. He was scared that I might look at him…that I might see him…" she trailed off, frustrated. It had made so much more sense when she was lying in bed.

Obi-Wan simply shook his head. "He’s always been afraid, Amidala. That’s nothing new."

Her brow furrowed, as she tried to reform her ideas. "He was – afraid to look at himself." Her face lit up in realization. "That’s why the mirrors were missing, and I couldn’t turn around, and it was so dark…he can’t face anyone. Not even himself." She paused for a moment, trying to sort out the feelings before she lost her train of thought. "Maybe he hates us – hates everything – because we remind of what he’s done." She looked at him, hope lighting her eyes. "It’s shame."

Obi-Wan just stared at her.

"Wouldn't that be a good thing? He knows what he’s doing is wrong, and he hates himself for it."

"I don’t think it’s so simple." Obi-Wan stood from his chair. "He probably doesn’t even know he’s sending you these thoughts…he probably doesn’t realize that he feels this way."

"So we’ll make him realize it."

He turned to leave. "We’ll see. I must discuss this with Yoda."

Amidala turned away, nonplussed.

Once he got to the door, he paused. "Amidala?"

She reluctantly looked at him.

"It’s definitely a good thing," he said softly. He turned and left the room.

**********

**********

Gardulla's lair. Why in the world was she dreaming about Gardulla's lair?

Anakin found himself wandering through the corridors of the basement, listening to the vague sounds of the day's debauchery floating down from upstairs. He had taken this route many times, running small errands for his master and some of the other servants. He had told Amidala of his life here on more than one occasion…it was a comfort to know that she was still so focused on him in her thoughts.

But he had to admit that the level of detail stunned him. He had only been 3 years old when he left for Watto's, which meant there simply wasn’t much that he remembered about his time here. Yet everything about the place was dead-on – the cool air of the lower levels, the maze of hallways and doors, the ratty clothes he was wearing. It was exactly as he remembered, as if he had stepped back in time. It was amazing.

Not that he was exactly thrilled to be here. Nostalgia wasn't the word that often came to mind when he thought about Tatooine. Still, it couldn't hurt to look around, check out a few of his favorite playing and hiding spots.

Anakin glanced around, and was suddenly aware of the fact that he didn't know which way to go. Strange. He had never gotten lost here. Well…except for that one time…

Oh no.

Was that where this was headed? Was he going to have to relive that?

Of course. It made sense. This was the one event that he remembered with absolute, awful clarity. He had told Amidala everything about it…she had been horrified. Of all his stories, this one seemed to have the biggest impact on her. So now she was dreaming about it.

He wasn't going to do this again if he could help it. He had to get out of there.

Anakin turned back and forth, looking to both ends of the hallway. He couldn't figure out where the exit was.

Besides, he knew that he probably couldn’t leave in any event. Because she was here. Anakin was beginning to sense Amidala…she was calm, almost serene. Whatever was happening to her, she certainly wasn't sharing his fear of this.

He took off running in one direction. If he were lucky, he'd find her, and find a way out of the basement. If not, he may as well just face this, get it over with, and wake up. There was no use in prolonging things.

The hallway became a blur. He turned left and right, went through doorways…his apprehension was increasing.

Where is she? Why is she doing this to me?

Anakin took a sharp left, and skidded to a stop.

The stench. It was back. Running was out of the question now – he could hardly breathe.

He was standing outside the morgue.

Anakin had always known that bad things happened to people who made Gardulla mad. Some of them got shot, some fell through a hole in the floor, and some were simply taken away by a henchman or two. The other slaves were always scared of Gardulla because of this, but Anakin had never truly understood what was going on. At least not until the one day he got lost in the basement, and stumbled upon this room.

He should have run screaming the minute he opened the door. But he could only stand there gawking – he looked at their faces, saw their blood on the floor, smelled their decay in the air. He might be standing there to this day if something hadn't crashed at the end of the hallway, scaring him half out of his mind. He sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him, and didn't stop until he had reached his quarters.

He never told anyone what he had seen (well, not until Amidala). Eventually, he just tucked it away in that part of his mind where he quietly kept unpleasant things. When he was older, he understood the why of it better – the Hutts didn’t respect anyone enough to bury or burn them, so they just had the droids dump them somewhere. And it couldn't have hurt Gardulla's reputation to show errant debtors exactly what would happen to them if they didn’t pay. In a way, it made sense. And so, he had almost forgotten about it.

Almost. Anakin looked at the door. He couldn't go in there now…he just couldn't. Yet, he knew suddenly that she was behind that door. Which meant he had no choice but to go forward.

He tried to steel himself, and slowly pushed the door open. He kept his eyes up, and the first thing he saw was Amidala. She was standing on the far side of the room, next to a table, with one of the bodies lying in front of her. She was working over it busily. Her back was to him, and he couldn’t quite see what she was up to.

Confusion didn’t being to describe what he was feeling. This is what's keeping her so calm? Standing in a sea of bodies, working on a cadaver?

"Amidala?" No response. She had never communicated directly with him anyway. Anakin sighed. That meant he would have to walk all the way over there to find out what she was doing. After a moment's hesitation, he forced himself to look down at the floor.

He saw Ki-Adi-Mundi lying there.

Anakin jumped back with a shout, tripping over another body behind him, almost falling to the ground. His heart was pounding through his ribs; a nervous sheen of sweat adorned his face and his shaking hands. Everywhere he turned he saw a familiar face. Jedi he had hunted down. Alliance leaders he had faced in battle. All on grotesque display.

He tried to get a hold of himself, to ignore the fear and nausea that were sweeping through him. You've been in enough battles. The dead should not bother you. It was true – he had fought so long in the Wars, on both sides, that he was almost used to walking through fields of fallen soldiers. This shouldn't be any different. Death was a normal part of war.

Indeed, it was a necessary part of it. These people decided to align themselves against Palpatine, choosing to revert to the corrupt, ineffective ways of the past instead of embracing the vision of the new order. And the Jedi…the Jedi. The ones who held such power, but preferred to follow arcane and irrelevant rules rather than create real change. The ones who repeatedly held him back because of their own petty fears and jealousies. The ones who tried to deny him knowledge of the true meaning of the Force.

Yes, this was all necessary. These people had made their decisions, and they had paid for them.

That thought finally seemed to bring him the peace he was looking for. He was finally able to take a deep breath, despite the smell, and relax a bit.

He glanced up at Amidala, who was still working away. Maybe this is why she's so calm, he thought to himself. Maybe she does understand after all.

Anakin finished making his way to the table. He glanced over her shoulder.

Amidala was preparing the man as if he were going to have a funeral. She washed the dirt off him with a small cloth, dressed his wounds, and was about to change him into a new, clean set of clothes. On the floor nearby were several other bodies she had already completed this process with.

He watched her for several minutes. He knew she wasn’t doing this solely out of a general respect for the dead.

She felt obligated. Responsible. Guilty.

Anakin's heart sank. So, she didn't understand, couldn’t see his rationale…no, the only reason she was calm was because she had simply resigned herself to the fact that she was married to a monster, and that she would always feel badly about it.

Well, maybe not resigned. Her actions may not have been much in the larger scheme of things, but she was doing the little she could to "correct" his "mistakes."

It bothered him greatly. He didn't want her to be ashamed of him. And she has nothing to be ashamed of. Why couldn't she understand that? While what he was doing was by no means pleasant, it was nothing to feel such guilt over –

A crash sounded from somewhere in the hallway. The noise was incredibly loud, it nearly scared the life out of him. Suddenly, the stench came back, assaulting his senses. Panic rose within him.

He had to leave.

He reached out to Amidala, to take her hand and move her away from the table. She didn’t budge, nor did she acknowledge that she had felt his touch.

His eyes were tearing; his throat was stinging. He couldn't breathe. He had to get out of there.

"Amidala? Amidala!" She began treating another wound. "Ami, we have to leave. Please!" Nothing. She couldn't hear him, she couldn't feel him – how was he supposed to get through to her?

Feeling slightly dizzy, Anakin grabbed her forcibly by her shoulders, pulling her with all of his strength. He failed to move her.

He had to leave.

Anakin gave her a sad, final glance, and then flew from the room.

Anakin woke up wheezing, coughing, and gasping for air. He took several tortured breaths before realizing that he was in his quarters on Coruscant, and that the air was clean and easy to breathe.

He tried to slow his racing heart. Flashes of the dream came back to him, and he was too terrified and too exhausted to face it. Instead he shut his eyes tightly, and fell into an uneasy slumber.

**********

**********

The wind whipped painfully against her face, causing her to wince against the sand and smoke. She could barely see the landscape racing by. The roar of the engines was deafening; if the crowd was cheering or the announcers were talking she couldn't hear it. She felt as though she were in complete sensory overload.

This was insane.

And that's why he loved it. Because as long as you lived to tell about it, it was the most exhilarating experience you could have. Sitting in the absurdly cramped cockpit, trying to keep track of a million readouts, keeping your hands on a multitude of controls. All why flying practically blind and deaf through nature's most difficult obstacle course.

Anakin, of course, didn’t need to see or hear anything, at least not through traditional means. He simply felt everything. That was enough for him.

But it wasn't enough for her. She was terrified – certain every moment would be their last, that every rock, every turn would mean the end. She didn’t understand how they could be in the same cockpit at the same time, but didn't really care. She just sat back and hoped that Anakin wouldn't get them both killed.

She hated podracing.

Anakin swerved around two competitors as they completed the first lap. She sensed nothing from him except determination. She struggled mightily to keep her fear in check.

Amidala had never truly understood his fascination with this blood sport. Flying? She could see how that was fun, and challenging, and maybe even addictive. She knew he loved it. But there had to be better ways of expressing that love – ways in which the pilot had at least a fair chance of coming out alive.

Anakin abruptly dodged several sniper attempts by Tusken Raiders camped out above. As a result of the sharp swerve, he accidentally bumped into the racer next to him, sending it careening into the side of the canyon.

It was an accident, wasn't it?

Anakin didn't seem the least bit concerned about what happened, and they were going so fast that Amidala wasn't able to turn around and assess the damage before the crash was out of sight.

No wonder he had simply laughed gently and ignored her when she expressed her concerns to him about these races. To him, what just happened was normal, and she was utterly horrified.

Besides, he did things a thousand times more dangerous every day as a Jedi. He never understood why she was so focused on this. And a part of her wondered too.

Maybe it was the unfortunate circumstances that surrounded her introduction to podracing. What torture that Boonta Eve event had been; she watched it with her stomach twisting painfully and her heart aching in concern. How could she have ever faced her people if she didn't take her one opportunity to get off Tatooine and help them? But how could she have possibly faced Shmi if Anakin got so much as a scratch on him? How could she have faced herself in the mirror in either event?

Amidala frowned. The explanation made sense, but that wasn't it. There was more.

A brilliant explosion directly ahead jarred her violently. Pay attention, she admonished herself.

Anakin drove them straight through the fiery aftermath of the blast, as though he were oblivious to his surroundings. The sweltering heat, soot, and debris completely overcame her for several excruciating seconds…she thought she could almost feel Anakin smile...triumphantly?…then they came through it, and continued the race. They were in the lead, and the explosion helped slow down the two pods still left in contention. They began the third lap.

She – he – felt for something underneath the seat. She wondered what it was for a second, before inexplicably tossing it out from the pod.

What? Why did I do that? What –

The thought ended abruptly. Not because she knew the answer, but because she realized that she didn’t care. He didn’t care.

A loud crash sounded behind them. Anakin stayed focused, determined, centered on winning. The wrench tossing, the accident – he had already forgotten them. He led them into the precipitous, gut-wrenching drop of Beggar's Canyon, with the sole remaining racer directly behind them.

Amidala sensed that Anakin had at least one more trick up his sleeve; that he was going to do something to lose – kill! – this pilot as well. She tried to fight against the apathy he emoted at the prospect, tried to get through to him.

Anakin, you're killing them! Stop this!

He ignored her. Either he couldn't hear her or he didn't care. He was going to win this race.

You're hurting me, Anakin. I can't stand to see you do this.

The pod swerved momentarily, causing them to nearly run into the side of the canyon. He righted the craft and resumed his course.

Amidala screamed at him in a panic. You don't have to do this! Please, Anakin, you don't have to do this!

In answer, the racer increased its velocity, swinging wildly from side to side as Anakin fought angrily to keep it under control. The last racer was gaining on them because of this confusion…No, he wasn't about to slow down now, not even for her.

Amidala sat back, dreading the outcome of this race, whether or not they managed to win.

Anakin let an exhaust tank open, and thick, black smoke trailed out behind them, undoubtedly smothering the other racer.

What is he doing? Amidala felt sick. He was no different than Sebulba, and Anakin had resented that Dug for most of his life. Didn't he care that he was using the exact same brutal and sadistic tactics?

Sadistic. Yes, that was it – that was what she always had hated about these races. That essential element of viciousness that applied to all who participated. All except Anakin, supposedly. He was so talented that such an approach had always been unnecessary…why did he feel it was necessary now?

Finally, she heard an explosion behind her. That was it. They were home free from here on out.

The pod again began rocking back and forth perilously, violently, almost spinning out of his control. Amidala frowned.

She was no longer afraid of what would happen…in fact, she felt a dull wave of annoyance at him. He had gotten exactly what he wanted – all his little schemes had worked. He had ignored her completely in his relentless pursuit of this goal, and now, now, when he was so close, he was going to falter?

Now he had doubts?

Now he had regrets?

No, it was too late for that.

She felt Anakin starting to panic; she felt his confusion. The pod lifted up far above the ground – Anakin's efforts to bring it back to manageable heights did nothing. This wasn't the way this was supposed to work out. Something in his plan had gone wrong. Terror ripped through him until he felt compelled to call out for help.

She heard him yell, heard him cry, but did nothing.

It was too late for that.

The last thing she heard was Anakin screaming as he realized they were headed right into a boulder.

Amidala felt her seat eject, and she was shot high into the sky, far away from the racer. A parachute opened, floating her away to safety.

Amidala woke up without the normal adrenaline rush she felt after most dreams…she felt relatively calm, and that was wrong. She should have been furious at herself for not helping when he asked for it. Wasn't that what she so desperately wanted him to do?

But no, she had simply sat there, and let him crash.

Crash. Crash? Wait a minute.

He hadn't crashed.

He hadn't crashed. There was no sound of an explosion, no smoke, no fire, she felt no pain from him – she should have seen or heard or sensed something while she was floating in the parachute.

Maybe he had escaped somehow. Maybe he made it.

Maybe it wasn't too late after all.

Was it possible that he could still avoid…this? Could she still save him? Could he still save himself?

Maybe. Maybe, despite everything, she still had hope after all.

Maybe they both still had hope.

She couldn't give up on him yet.

**********

**********

Anakin stood in the large crowd facing the far-off stage. If he squinted, he could just make out the podium, could barely see her surrounded by her handmaidens and advisors. Someone unimportant – at least, unimportant to him – was speaking some nonsense. He had been talking for way too long. When was she going to get up to speak?



On every side of him, people were packed in tightly, way too close for any kind of personal comfort. They jostled each other slightly, every person trying to get just a little more space. It was pointless, of course, and did nothing more than further irk an increasingly irritable crowd. People exchange dirty looks muttered under their breath at one another. She had better start speaking soon.



And, to top it all off, it was hot. The sun beat down on them relentlessly, and the close quarters they all stood in only made matters worse. Anakin, though, wasn't bothered by the heat much at all – the cooler days on Tatooine had been much hotter than this. To be honest, the weather couldn't have been more cooperative…it was actually a very pleasant day once you got out of the mob. But it seemed that no matter how big or empty a space she chose to do this in, the crowds inevitably were too large and too cramped.



Anakin sighed, squinted his eyes again, and tried to concentrate on her. So, she was dreaming of home. That wasn't surprising. She was dreaming of her royal duties…after that last dream, it was heartening to see her return to more regular concerns.



Finally, the man who had been talking for too long paused dramatically. Anakin still couldn't hear the words, but he knew that was a signal that she was about to come to the forefront. The crowd sensed this as well, and began clapping and cheering. Despite his urge to join in, he simply stood there silently, watching without any excitement.



Amidala had loved these appearances, despite the controversy they had caused early on. Most Naboo monarchs were kept a certain distance from the masses. They were held accountable, through election cycles, but the same traditions that required she hide behind make-up and costumes also held that she remain aloof. Planetary addresses were done from the throne room. Edicts were handed down by governors from the steps of the palace.



That changed with her election, and particularly after the battle with the Trade Federation. She had been there, at the celebratory parade, in a minimal amount of coverings, smiling and laughing with her people, shaking hands with the Gungans, making herself open and available in their moment of triumph and unity. Anakin hadn't understood it at the time, but what she had done was rather extraordinary.



And she continued so throughout her reign. She insisted on these special public appearances, all over the planet, where she could be seen and heard and even touched in person. She felt it was important to reach out to her people in that way, to try and make real connections with them, to find a basis of understanding over the people she ruled, in order to serve them better.



Anakin felt he could see her a little more clearly now. She was radiant, as always, basking in the adulation of the crowd, waiting for them to quiet down enough to begin speaking. He wished he could hear her – how he missed the sound of her voice! – but that had never happened, so there was no reason to think this dream would be different.



So, instead of listening, Anakin tried to figure out what was going on in her head to create this set of circumstances.



He – or at least the "he" that was in her dream – was slightly annoyed, and hadn't joined in the crowd's euphoria at her appearance. He found himself rolling his eyes at her "platitudes" and sneering at the crowd for buying this staged display of concern.



And that was simply wrong. Whenever he had attended her speeches, he was always seated right next to her on the stage. He was constantly overcome by pride for the reverence she inspired, and for the gentle touch with which she wielded that power. His only problem in those days was that he couldn't quite decide to train his total attention on her, or to watch the reactions of the crowd.



He loved to see their smiling faces. And to see them clapping. And to see them strain to reach out and shake her hand.



She said something else, and the crowd laughed. He didn't. He began looking around to see if there was a way out of there, if he could possibly push his way through…what did she know anyway? After this little sideshow, she would go back to her perfect life in her palace, where she could more properly look down upon the masses from her throne…



/Damn it./ Anakin was getting annoyed. Why didn't he ever act the way he should in her dreams? The way he wanted to? He wanted to head towards the stage, to be a little closer to her, if nothing else. But no, to her, in her vision, he was just another ingrate.



Yes, that’s what he had thought of them. Ingrates. Those few people who shunned her, who rejected her offers of kindness, who mocked her, who fought her politically – how shortsighted they all were. How could they look at her and not see what he saw? How could anybody?



She gave such critics little attention. Amidala hadn't gotten where she was without learning the difference between legitimate opposition and petty jealousy. She understood that not everyone would like her, and it didn't really bother her. Though Anakin could tell there was something else there…that she felt a little sad that she could reach, or touch, or help everyone. That was why she had gotten into politics in the first place: because she thought – she knew – could help others. It felt a bit strange to her that some would reject her, and wouldn't let her make things better for them.



The crowd cheered wildly again, as Amidala finished up her speech. She began walking along the edge of the crowd, chatting with various people. The rest of the mob began to disperse, most talking excitedly about whatever she had said.



Anakin felt a dull ache in his chest. He knew there was no chance that he would walk over to her. Indeed, he felt himself begin to walk away.



Is this what she thinks? That I'm rejecting her? He had never done such a thing…he couldn't. He wanted her with him…he needed her with him.



Anakin closed his eyes tightly against the agitation he felt buzzing in his head. He felt a little woozy…



Yes, he had rejected their previous way of life. But it wasn't a rejection of her. And yes, his decisions had caused damage to things they had previously held dear. But he wasn't trying to hurt her. And maybe this future he was creating would be a difficult one to adjust to. But he wasn't trying to make things harder on her.



There were decisions that had to be made, things that had to be done. That was all.



But how was she supposed to see that? Or know that? She should know that he loved her…but she wasn't blind. She had seen the results of what he was doing. How was she possibly supposed to understand?



He cringed, feeling his chest constrict painfully at that thought. She had to understand. She had to.



She can't. And you know that she shouldn't.



Anakin stopped walking. He suddenly didn't have the strength to move. Unsure of what else to do, he sat down on the ground, and let the crowds pass by him.

**********

**********

Amidala rolled over, wrapping herself in the warm sheets and blankets, trying to ignore the sunlight streaming in the window, and the first sounds of commotion outside. She had never understood why it was necessary for Imperial life to start so early every morning. It was so comfortable just to lie in bed…surely it wouldn't matter if she rested a little while longer.

She sighed luxuriously, and felt herself start to drift off again. And, that's the exact moment they came in, as they did every morning.

The two could be heard giggling outside the door before it opened, and came running at top speed, throwing themselves on the bed, jostling her awake. But she kept her eyes closed. Maybe if they saw she was asleep, they might keep quiet.

Nope. Not a chance. They were still bouncing around and talking to each other. Every once and awhile, one would come very close to her and whisper, "Mommy? Wake up!" She could feel them watching her like hawks for any sign that she had heard them.

She couldn't help but smile, though she would miss that extra hour or so of sleep. She thought it was sweet that they always wanted to include her in whatever the excitement of the day was. And they were so energetic – it was a wonder that they slept at all. Definitely a trait they picked up from their father.

Amidala finally opened her eyes and sat upright. She began to stretch, but a twin grabbed each arm, and they tried vainly to get her on her feet and moving.

"What is it, you two?" she asked through a yawn. They just looked at each other and laughed.

"It's a surprise!" the girl said.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming." She managed to extricate her arms, and the children slid down from the bed and stood there waiting for her.

How can he be dreaming about the twins?

The notion was so jarring, she was afraid she'd come right out of the dream and wake up. She didn't really want to consider it. Maybe it was just a coincidence. He couldn't possibly know that she was pregnant. Could he? Had everything she had done these last few months – hiding, running, cutting him off – all been for nothing?

What if Palpatine knows?

That thought chilled her to her core. She couldn't even bear to contemplate it. So she decided to back to paying attention to what was happening.

She had finally gotten out of bed, and was following the kids. They were taking her to their room.

Wherever they were living, it seemed to be enormous – luxurious even, though still somewhat sterile. Certainly wasn't any place on Naboo. Or even Alderaan. Coruscant maybe?

"Come on, Mommy," said the boy, apparently already having lost patience with her sleepy stumbling down the hallway. He let go of her hand, ran to the door, and keyed in the code. The door slid open…

…and the twins ran into the waiting arms of their father.

She was surprised to see him home. He had apparently been away for a long time, and hadn't yet been due to come back. Amidala noticed that Anakin was wearing an Imperial command uniform. He had been away fighting, she supposed. No wonder the children were so excited. Their father had finally come home from the Wars.

Anakin was saying something to the twins. Although she was only standing a few feet away, she couldn’t make it out. It seemed that they still couldn't communicate directly.

So, this was the Imperial life he wanted for them. They were happy – they were all together and happy. Quite the cozy little picture he had created.

And that's all it was, really. Wishful thinking that nearly bordered on delusional. Did he really think they'd live such an idyllic life once the Wars were over? Could he possibly even hope for such a thing?

But, at least it meant that this was just another set of random musings on his part. There was a message to this dream, she was sure, but the details didn't matter. After all, it was perfectly normal for him to picture children when he thought of their future together. He probably wouldn't even be consciously aware of all this when he woke up.

Anakin stood, and the children went to a corner to play with some toys, leaving the two of them staring at each other. He walked over and took her hand. And she felt it. She felt him touch her.

If only she could hear what he was saying. She got the feeling from his tone that he was asking her something. Something she didn't want to do, something that concerned and bothered her greatly. They seemed to be arguing, though they tried to hide it, probably because they didn't want to alarm the twins.

He wasn't really angry at her refusal of whatever he was asking for. His tone was gentle. Pleading. Worried. But she wasn’t moved, or at least not enough to change her mind. He was beginning to get a little panicked. She still gently refused.

"…Sulluest…"

Suddenly, a word came through clearly. Everything around it was nonsense, but she clearly heard him say that word. Her heart leapt. She was still saying no to him, but Amidala herself was thrilled.

*****

Amidala woke up with a smile on her face for the first time in months. She knew what she had to do.

She had to go to Sulluest. She would find him there. That's what he was asking her to do.

She practically jumped out bed and began getting dressed. It was an absurd hour of the night, so everyone was asleep. She knew of a transport she could "borrow" – maybe she'd be able to get out of there before anyone noticed.

Amidala felt as though a burden had been lifted off her. She finally had a clarity of purpose. And she felt certain that she could convince him to come home – she felt certain that he wanted to be convinced. He was still clinging to the life he had chosen with Palpatine, but deep down, he knew he needed her.

She threw a few quick items in a bag and left her room without glancing back. She should have done this sooner. But it was so wonderful to have him ask her to come to him, no matter how oblique the method of communication used.

She crept silently towards the hangar. Sure, it might not be easy to convince him, and they would probably still be on the run for the immediate future, but she would have her husband back…the thought almost made her giddy.

Amidala found the hangar completely dark and silent. She only hoped that booting up the ship and opening the main door wouldn't cause too much of a commotion. She headed for a small transport closest to the opening.

He wanted their family intact. He just needed to know that it was possible – and that they didn't need to live in the Imperial Palace to do it. She couldn't wait to see him again, to –

"Amidala."

Amidala jumped, terrified of the voice that had called to her in the darkness of the cockpit. She quickly turned on the lights.

Obi-Wan sat in the pilot's chair.

"Obi-Wan!" she gasped, her heart still racing. "What are you doing here? Have you been sitting here all night?"

"No. Just for a short while. Probably since you woke up."

Amidala stared at him defiantly, and shored up her reserve. "If you've come to stop me, you wasted a trip."

He shook his head slowly, sadly. "I didn't come to stop you, Amidala." She frowned skeptically. "I mean it. I've simply come to reassure myself that you have thought this through. Once I'm convinced of that, I'll leave."

Amidala began to initialize the ship's systems. "I've thought of nothing else since I left Naboo. I have more than thought it through, Obi-Wan." She raised her eyebrows at him. "You'll forgive me if I'm…cynical…of your hands-off approach here."

Obi-Wan frowned deeply. "I stopped Anakin from going to get his mother a few years ago because I thought I could – should – make the 'right' choice for him. I thought he was upset, and getting carried away by something that had inflamed his emotions –" he paused to look at her meaningfully "– so, I felt that I should make him remember his duty. Of course, he wound up paying the price for my decision. I'm not going to do that again."

"Obi-Wan, you were his Master. It was part of your job to make such decisions –"

He held up a hand to interrupt her. "That is neither here nor there. I have learned my lesson. I won't tell you not to go after your husband. I only wish to ask you three questions."

Amidala knew it was pointless to try and avoid this, so she nodded her head in assent.

"I managed to figure out exactly what you were planning to do, in a matter of minutes after you decided to do it. Do you honestly, truly believe that Anakin could meet you, or plan to reunite with you, without Palpatine knowing about it?"

She looked away and sighed angrily. "Anakin can keep secrets when he wants to. We both know that. Besides, he's probably not…completely aware that he's asked me to do this. How can he reveal something he doesn't know that he's done?"

"Are you willing to risk the lives of your children on either of those assumptions?"

Amidala closed her eyes as she felt her heart stop at the question. Finally, she whispered, "Anakin would never do anything to hurt them."

"You know it's not Anakin I'm talking about."

Silence.

"Amidala?"

"That's two questions," she snapped.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Where is he?"

Amidala stared at him for a long moment, her hand on her stomach, her mind wandering. "This isn't fair, Obi-Wan. I know I could convince him to come home. Why did this have to happen? Why can't I just be allowed to save him?"

"Amidala," he said gently, "if anything were to happen to you or the children because you went to find him, Anakin would never forgive himself. Never."

Blinking back tears, she whispered, "How will I ever be able to look back on this moment, and know that I did nothing?"

"I don't know." Obi-Wan took her hand in both of his. "How will you look back on this moment if you were to lose…everything?"

"I don’t know."

He stood, squeezed her shoulder and moved to exit the cockpit. "Those are the answers you must have before you leave, Amidala." He began to make his way down the ramp.

"Obi-Wan?"

He stopped and turned back to her.

"He's on Sulluest."

He nodded, took a long last look at her, sitting in the co-pilot's seat, and left the hangar.

To his great relief, she was asleep in that chair when he returned to the hangar the next morning.

**********

**********

Anakin swore under his breath as his pruners slipped out of his grip, cutting the back of his right hand. He was tired of working, and it was starting to show. This wasn't the way he had wanted to spend this day – he would have rather just lie in the grass, eyes closed against the sunlight, trying desperately to imprint in his mind the sounds and smells and feels of home.

But that was silly and he knew it. Home had only been that way on rare occasions. Most often, it had been just like this – working in the fields all day and trying to help with the chores. Of course when night fell, they would retire to the main house, and talk and laugh and enjoy one another's company. Those were the best times. But it wouldn't happen tonight. And it would probably be a long time before it happened again.

He sighed and sat heavily in the dirt. He was on Naboo, at the farm where Amidala had grown up. He recognized it easily enough from the short time he had spent here a few years ago, and from numerous stories he had heard her tell. Although she had spent far more time in Theed over the course of her life, he knew that this was the place that had first held her heart, the first place she had called home.

He looked around and smiled. It was so peaceful and simple here, even compared to other parts of Naboo. He didn't mind this setting at all; he would be happy to work here.

But he wasn't happy. And it wasn't just the physical exhaustion. He was apprehensive, and dreading something. He felt like there was a cloud hanging over him. He wasn't afraid exactly; there wasn't a threat coming. It was just that he knew he'd have to do something unpleasant, and he'd have to do it soon.

Anakin gathered his tools in a small basket and moved to a different part of the field to begin working again. It was very quiet, except for the rustling of the wind. That's probably why he was so startled when he heard someone moving around nearby. He quickly turned, and saw Amidala working several yards off to his right. They smiled at each other.

Then they both turned away. He felt awkward. Whatever was hanging between them, he wasn't quite ready to deal with it yet. And she looked wistful and…resigned? Sad? She acted like she was trying to ignore him, or just trying to pretend everything was normal. But he kept catching her furtive glances at him, and the way she'd move a few steps to make sure they remained a certain distance from each other.

Goodbye. She's going to say goodbye.

Why was she going to do that? He had wondered how long he could realistically expect her to wait for him to return for her…but he had never really thought that she would give up. That wasn't what she was doing, was it? He was so close to finishing everything; the Wars were so close to being over. The first thing he was going to do was find her…she couldn’t give up on this now.

But he recognized what was happening. This was the day Amidala had left home for good, right before she became Princess of Theed.

Amidala's time at home had been severely limited from a young age, as she was sent to special schools all over the planet for political and military training. Still, there were good parts of the year when she was allotted time to go home, and there were special circumstances under which she could be excused from her lessons.

That all had to change when she accepted an elected office – she knew it would. Her responsibilities were now full-time; her home was now in the capital.

Anakin purposely strode over to her, stood beside her, but didn't say anything. They continued to work in silence, aside from the occasional sigh from her. The sun was just beginning its decent, and he knew he would have to leave soon. They would have to talk, he thought. But he knew she wouldn't want to.

Amidala and he had shared these stories repeatedly over the years, comparing notes on their respective goodbyes to their mothers. There were differences, of course, but the kinship they had shared through their experience had always been a comfort to him in dealing with his own situation.

Amidala's mother had been torn about Amidala's election as Princess. She had assumed that once Amidala finished schooling, she would be able to return home for a few years – most trainees didn't seek serious political positions until their mid-teens or beyond. Instead, Amidala had started her career at 12, and her mother realized she wouldn't be getting her daughter back.

Amidala had thought that her mother was going to spend most of this last trip home trying to convince her to stay. And then, as time went on, she began to worry that her mother would wait until the last minute to say something. Amidala was sure her mother had hoped, though not really expected, that her daughter would come to her instead, and take the burden off her. Obviously, Amidala didn't do that…as much as she loved her mother and would miss her home, she couldn't help looking forward to and wanting her new life in Theed.

Anakin glanced at her now. She was as pained as her mother had been that day. She knew Anakin wasn't ready to come to her and tell her he would give up his new life. So she would let go. She felt she had to.

Amidala put her tools away, smiled at him briefly, and began packing his things up as well. She placed her arm around his shoulders, and indicated that they should begin heading back to the house. He did so, reluctantly.

After a few moments, Amidala suddenly came to a stop. He did as well and looked at her quizzically. Her eyes were filled with tears that she tried in vain to hide. She reached into one of her pockets, pulled something out, and dropped it into his hand. She then wiped her eyes, and tried to look away.

Anakin rubbed her arm to comfort her, and then looked at his hand. Her japor snippet was in it.

Amidala reached up and gently cupped his face. She whispered, "Goodbye," and turned to go into the house.

He watched her go.

Anakin knew that something had changed with her…something had changed with them. It frightened him – he wasn't ready to say goodbye. But ready or not, he knew a turning point was upon them.

Finally, he put the japor snippet around his neck, and began to walk away.

Pain.

That's all she felt, that's all she knew.

Pain.

All over – every single inch of her body screamed out in anguish. She didn't think it was possible to hurt this much without passing out…or without at least waking up from this nightmare.

Yet, neither happened. All she could do was lie there, in the pitch-black darkness, and pray that it would end soon. But it showed no signs of abating. It hurt to breathe, her head was throbbing, her arms and legs felt like they were being ripped from her. Even her eyelids stung when she blinked.

She wanted to scream, to cry, to do something, anything that might give her some sort of release, but that wasn't possible.

All she knew was pain and confusion. And, Force help her, it was getting worse.

The dull ache that was rolling through her chest had become a piercing, agonizing feeling. Like someone was stabbing her, or pulling out her ribs, or grabbing her heart…she was certain that she had stopped breathing. Her head was spinning, her vision was blurred (though how she could tell that in the void she was in was beyond her). Then it stopped. She didn't begin breathing normally again, and the pain didn't go away, but it wasn't getting worse.

But as soon as she thought she might be able to handle things…she felt something crushing her legs, as though some weight had been dropped from a ceiling…or as though she had been dropped from the ceiling, and landed flat on her shins. She managed to let out a small shout, but it didn't help as much as she thought it would. Her legs were definitely broken, in more places than she could count. She knew instantly that she was crippled. But she didn't have time to think about that.

She noticed that her right hand was…gone? No wonder it was the only place that didn't hurt.

She looked in horror at her arm, which inexplicably ended at the wrist. Then she had the strangest sensation, that someone was cutting her arm at the shoulder. And she couldn’t move away.

Amidala had never actively wished that she would wake up from a dream. Usually, if things got to that point, she would wake up in a terror. But she didn't think there were was any way out of this dream…

What the hell is happening to him?

She couldn't begin to figure it out. But she knew it was real. This wasn't some random collection of thoughts. This was something that had happened to him.

How could this be something that happened to him?

It was too terrifying to think about. Of course, she didn't have much time to do so anyway. She was burning.

She had the distinct feeling of being in an oven, where the temperature was slowly rising. She had been sweating for a while…now her skin was feverish, and her blood smoldered as it coursed through her veins.

A panic rose within her – him – as she felt the beginnings of scorches on different parts of her body. She was going to burst into flames, she could feel it. Blisters began to break out…and the temperature was still going up. She was going to melt away completely.

Why can't I just die?

That was him, that was his thought. She agreed with him – No! No, I don't! I don't want him to die!

But she couldn't stand the thought of him suffering like this, even for a few seconds. This had to end, the pain had to stop –

The heat increased severely, and burns raced up and down her. Now she screamed, a feral, violent shriek that pierced her eardrums. It did nothing to save or help her though.

The cutting sensation was back. On her arm, on her legs…

What is happening to him?!

Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP!

A hole was burning through her chest. She couldn't open her eyes anymore.

WAKE UP!

Why wasn't she dead? Anybody with half of this happening to them should be dead many times over. But no…

"Amidala! Wake up!"

Amidala slowly opened her eyes. For a second, she saw a shadow standing over her, leering at her…peering out from beneath a dark hood…he was saying something to her…"Welcome back, my young apprentice."

Somebody shook her, her vision cleared, and she was completely awake. Obi-Wan and Saché were by her bed, and both looked terrified.

She turned to Obi-Wan. When had he gotten back from Sulluest? That didn't matter – she only had one question to ask him. "Anakin?"

Obi-Wan looked away. "I'm sorry, Amidala. I don't know how to tell you this."

"No," she whispered. "He's not dead."

"I know this is hard, but –"

"No, Obi-Wan. He's not dead."

His answer was a piteous look.

"I know he's not. He wishes he were, but he's not." She felt herself becoming overwhelmed, tears and sobs and grief beginning to pour out of her.

Obi-Wan stared at her in disbelief and dread. "You had another dream."

She nodded, tears streaming.

"And…he's…he didn't…"

Amidala looked at him, the hollowness she felt reflected in her eyes. "He's gone, Obi-Wan. But he's not dead."

He's gone.

She knew, in her heart that it was true. That the part of him that had been reaching out to her, that had tried to linger behind…it had been twisted and mutilated and burned away. She wanted to believe that it wasn't all gone, that something of him had survived…but she knew what she had felt.

Obi-Wan was speaking, but she didn't hear anything he said. She simply lay back down, curled herself up as tightly as possible, and wept for the loss of her husband.

**********

**********

2 years later…

Vader felt sick.

It was an absurd notion, and he wasn't quite sure what to do about it. He hadn't been sick since he was very young. He certainly wasn't supposed to be sick now. How did a machine catch a cold?

But he felt sluggish and tired. His limbs, fake though they were, ached dully. He just wanted to sleep. He lay in bed, shaking from chills that ran through his body. Burning from the fever that sent waves of heat across his brow.

He reached up to wipe the beads of sweat from his forehead. Was his hand real? Was he touching his face? He couldn't be exactly sure; he couldn't really tell what he was feeling. All he knew for certain was that the small movement nearly exhausted him. He exhaled heavily – was he breathing with or without the mask? – and waited. Waited to die.

Vader trembled. And he realized it wasn't just from the sickness. She was back. The dreams were back.

He hadn't had one since before…since before Vader, before everything. The tenuous connection they had shared seemed to vanish when he changed. He didn't know how he felt about that. Relief, definitely. It was just too hard to think about her, to remember her, to love her. Sometimes, he thought that hurt just as much as any physical pain he had been through. It tore him apart. Yet, he felt there were times he had to think about her, or he would go insane. It made no sense to him; it felt like the memories had a life of their own, and they demanded his full attention. It confused him to no end.

All he knew, without question, was that he missed her desperately.

He suddenly felt dizzy and sick to his stomach. Vader closed his eyes, and tried to remain as still as possible. These spells were coming more and more often, and he – she – knew it was a bad sign. That it would only get worse.

Someone squeezed his hand. He didn't open his eyes to see who it was, but knew that it was just another person trying to offer what little comfort they could. There wasn't anything that would make her feel better, or even just take the edge off, and give her some respite. Everything had been tried at least once – whatever had worked before had long since ceased being effective. So they held his hand, said nonsense to her, and tried not to cry. And they waited.

Vader felt an icy weight bear down on him.

She was dying?

He hadn't seen her in years. He hadn't been able to find her since he had originally left Naboo. But now…now he was faced with the knowledge that he would never see her again. He would never get that chance.

He had never really considered that possibility.

The fever spiked, and he felt the shakes again. He panicked. Maybe this was a warning – maybe he would be able to find her and get to her in time. Maybe this was meant to get him to help her. Surely, Imperial medics could do something to save her. If he could just figure out where she was –

Vader opened his eyes again, and expected to feel the dizzying sensation of the room spinning. That happened, but he also noticed that the room was…dark. Fading. He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head in an attempt to clear it, but that didn't work.

She was so tired.

Whoever it was near the bed (a handmaiden, perhaps) was trying to talk again. Trying to soothe away any fears, trying to prepare them both for what was to come.

She was dying, on the verge of it. He didn't have time to find her, or see her again. She was too sick to be helped.

Which meant that this was all he'd have of her, this awful dream where he couldn't even speak to her, or comfort her. This was all that was left of them and the life they had shared together.

A blanket was drawn up to fit snugly under his chin. He could barely see at all now, and the voice speaking to him was becoming fainter.

Vader tried to take some comfort in the fact that she wasn't alone, and from what he could tell she wasn't afraid. It didn't work. He should be there, by her side. Of course, in a way, it was perfectly fitting. One last failure, one last abandonment, one last thing for him to despise himself for.

Her eyes fluttered shut again, and she continued to slip away.

Vader opened his eyes.

He was awake and in his chamber, sitting in his chair. Tears stung his eyes, and he felt a gaping hole in his chest – in his heart. He wanted to scream. He wanted to rip apart the chamber. He wanted to shoot himself out into space. He wanted to die.

But he…couldn't. He couldn’t go over the edge that way, no matter how much he wanted to. The fact that he had inexplicably survived the fall at Sulluest seemed to ruin him from thoughts like that – he couldn't figure it out. He just knew that this wasn't his time to die, or it would have happened during that duel. So he was stuck. Stuck in this hellish existence, stuck in the knowledge that he was now living in a world without her.

Vader began the process of depressurizing and opening the pod. He took his mask and put it on.

A world without her.

He had to report for duty.

Without her.

Vader got to his door and stopped, leaning against it heavily. He couldn’t do this. He couldn't function.

He stepped back inside the door, and heard it shut. He then sank to the floor. He sat there and waited for the pain to dull. As always, it did. And that hurt all the more.

Endor. An understandable place for either one of them to dream about, he supposed. After all, so much had happened there six months ago…for the two of them, for the Rebellion, for the galaxy at large. Everything had changed since then. He had told Leia that he felt as though his life had started over, and a completely new phase had begun. He knew that she agreed with him.

Neither had been back to the planet since then, but the place it continued to hold in their thoughts was evident to Luke now. He was slowly making his way through the forest, trying to get through the thick brush with only his lightsaber illuminating his path. The quiet sounds of the night filled his ears: tree branches waving slowly in the wind, various animals scampering nearby and flying overhead, the pat of his footsteps on the soft ground. This was the exact way he had walked before – after the cremation of his father had finished. He had decided he should join the celebration in the Ewok village.

For Luke, it had been a very long walk. He had felt painfully alone and –

"Luke?"

He whirled around and saw Leia standing behind him. He reached out to take her hand, and the two continued to walk together. She didn't say a word, or question where they were going. Maybe she was finally getting used to this.

It had started right after Bespin, these strange dreams that neither could control nor even really understand. They would be both be there, or she would be there watching, or he'd actually be her, and vice versa…it was a scary thing, and not at all pleasant. Luke hadn’t full control of his powers back then, and he couldn't begin to explain why it was happening, and why it only happened with her. She was furious at him. Many of her dreams were nightmares; memories of the myriad of terrible things that had happened to her in the past few years. And those were things she hadn't told him about, things she hadn't cared to discuss with anybody.

It wasn't until after they found out they were siblings that it made sense. Luke immediately figured that if they both tried to focus their powers in this regard, things might start to make a little more sense. She was reluctant, of course – Leia had been slow to deal with any of her powers at all. But eventually, she relented and they had started to work together to increase their bond, to figure out what all these dreams and such were supposed to mean. It hadn't been easy – it turned out that there were few answers to be found.

They could now see the clearing up ahead. The bonfires had been started, but there was no music, no sounds of celebration. The entire forest seemed empty except for the two of them. Almost desolate.

Luke glanced at his sister and shrugged. "This is my memory from Endor. But I'm not sure what it's supposed to mean."

Leia sighed. "Well…what were you thinking about then? What are you thinking about now?"

"Father," he replied quickly. "About…everything that had happened. About how much I missed him already." He paused thoughtfully. "I was thinking about our mother too. How I felt like I had just found them – but now there was nothing left of either of them, there was nothing I could find that could tell me about them." He shook his head and added, "It was…sobering. Despite everything that had happened, I just felt…lost. It's hard to describe."

They arrived at the campsite, and both sat on a large rock near the row of stormtrooper helmets. Leia tightened her grip on his hand. "I know what you mean. Sometimes I still feel that way." She looked away, towards one of the brightly burning fires. "A part of me wishes that I could have seen Father the way you did that day, when he was with Obi-Wan and Yoda. I know I wasn't prepared for it, but now –" her voice trailed off.

"I wish you could have known him the way I did," Luke said gently. "And I wish I could have known Mother at all."

They sat quietly for a few minutes, watching the fire burn, mulling over their thoughts, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. It was certainly the least eventful dream they had shared, and it left them both feeling somewhat unsettled.

"Maybe," Leia began tentatively, "this is trying to tell us to…move on?" Luke bristled, but didn't reply. "I mean, we're just sitting here, alone, wondering about them, and nothing's happening. Maybe…maybe we've been too focused on something we're never going to get the answers to."

Luke shook his head and stood up to pace around. He had wondered about that himself. Why hadn't he heard from Father since Endor? How was he supposed to find out anything about his mother when all the records were gone and her planet was destroyed? But still, "I don't want to give up, Leia. I feel like something's missing."

She simply nodded, and looked around helplessly. Her gaze wandered slowly, until it stopped and focused on a spot behind Luke at the other end of the campsite. He quickly turned around.

At the same fence where Luke had seen his father, Ben, and Yoda, stood a couple about their own age. They had the same ephemeral glow the Jedi had shown. They stood there, holding hands, watching the twins.

"Mother?" Leia whispered.

"That's Father," Luke said at the same moment.

"Can we talk to them?" Leia asked.

Luke shook his head no, though he wasn't quite sure how he knew that. It wasn't necessary for them to speak, just as it hadn't been necessary on Endor the first time. Seeing his Father take his rightful place beside his fellow Jedi had been enough to reassure Luke after that long lonely walk to the village. And seeing him now, with his mother, watching over them…

Leia glanced at him and smiled. Even without words, she felt a bond with them, felt a stronger bond with Luke, felt the bond between her mother and father, which had somehow survived everything.

Luke stood behind her and squeezed her shoulders. The two continued to stare, even as the image of their parents began to fade slowly.

Luke opened his eyes and stared out into his quarters. He knew that Leia had probably just woken up in her quarters as well. It was their custom to get up after one of these dreams, to talk about what happened while it was still fresh in their minds, to try to decide what it meant to them, and feel settled enough to go back to sleep.

Luke rolled over, but didn't sit up. That wasn't necessary this time…the dream was the reassurance. There was nothing they had to discuss. He had the feeling Leia had already fallen back asleep.

Luke shut his eyes, and sighed contentedly. As he began to drift off again, he heard a pair of voices say, We're always with you…

That night, the Skywalker family was at last at peace.