The End Justifies the Means

Prologue: Sometime during Revenge of the Sith

"Absence from those we love is self from self - a deadly banishment.”

William Shakespeare


At night I watch Padmé sleep. There are too many times to count when I help her remain in the land of dreams so I don't have to look into her haunted wide-awake eyes. I can pretend then that everything is well and that I have fulfilled all of those youthful promises made during the days when there was still any real hope left.

The air shimmers with something intangible. Something is wrong.

Padmé refuses to tell me what it is, claims that I’m imaging things. I can’t delve into her mind as I once would have. Kenobi has seen to that. He taught her how to shield her thoughts from me, her own husband. I suspect she requested his help but that is yet another subject she refuses to discuss . . . no matter what form of persuasion I use.

A change is coming.

I can feel it in the thick air, hear it in the mocking whispers, and taste it in my mouth like ashes from a long dead fire. I’m sliding further into the chill of the black night while Padmé remains firmly ensconced in the warmth of the day. Every hour is spent in a tortuous effort to claw my way back into her comforting graces. It is getting more and more difficult. So in an effort to anchor myself to the Anakin that now exists only in Padmé's mind, I hold onto her tighter and tighter. I cling so tightly I imagine I hear her bones grinding together - it sounds like death.

I can feel the roots of darkness twist their way down, wrapping around my heart, digging in deeper and deeper until excising them is no longer feasible without my death. If I were to let go of her the old Anakin will disappear as if he never existed.

I won’t let that happen.


****

Padmé is gone.

The coldness sets in first, freezing the blood in my veins and turning my heart into a lifeless lump of ice. The rage comes next. A wave of blackness descends. It clouds my thinking while at the same time sharpening it to a level beyond that of a mere man. My body trembles with mind numbing rage. The anger and hate I once would have sought to suppress has free reign now. It dulls the pain. It numbs this sick bereavement that makes it difficult to think.

e sme small part of my soul still sobs her name in my dreams. There are times I can taste her tears on my lips.

Harsh, bitter laughter rises up from my black despair. The sound is jarring and sharp, so sharp it cuts and slashes at my insides. I had always been so worried about maintaining my control, in not relinquishing my power. But all along, Padmé had possessed the power, the greatest of all powers. In her two hands she held my heart, my humanity and when she left, she’d ripped it out and left a bloody gouge where it use to beat for her.

Kenobi, my old Master - the man who was like a father to me . . . he has something to do with this. HE has told me of his betrayal and that of the Jedi. They will all pay dearly for interfering in my life again.

I will find Kenobi. Or he will find me – it is inevitable. We have unfinished business, he and I; business that can only be resolved with the clash of our weapons. Mark my words, I will find relief at the end of my blade.

I will find Padmé. I will hunt her down and bring her back, no matter what I have to do. And when I have her again, she will tell me exactly what she fought to conceal from me, she will tell me the reason behind her betrayal and flight. More importantly, Padmé will not escape me again.

I possess her body and soul.

I love her.

Padmé is mine.


THE END….of the Beginning

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