Post by crystalcat on Dec 15, 2006 15:35:39 GMT -5
Part II “It seems that Chancellor Palpatine was a Sith Lord,” Bail answered evenly as the medical
team passed him to check on the fallen.
Amedda blinked, momentarily taken aback by the accusation, but recovered almost
immediately.
“What evidence exists to support this outlandish theory?” he demanded.
“That’s what we’re trying to determine right now,” Organa told him equitably. “However,
the state of his body alone is sufficient evidence that he was not who he said he was, no matter what
that turns out to be.”
“His body?” Amedda stepped forward, a bit too anxiously, Organa thought. His eyes,
however, did not fall on the chancellor’s remains, but on the glowing glass coffin in the center of the
room, now surrounded by the medical team. “What is that thing?” he demanded coldly.
The lead member of the medical team stood and faced them.
“Sir, it appears to be generating a stasis field of some sort,” he said. “We’re detecting very
low-level life signs, consistent with that. But it’s of some alien technology that we’re unfamiliar
with.”
“He’s not dead, then?” Organa asked hopefully.
“He could be,” came the reply, “This could simply have him on life support. It’s impossible
to say unless we remove him. But that, in itself, could kill him. We don’t dare do anything unless
we know what happened to him.”
Organa’s eyes sought out the tiny man who’d been present when he’d first arrived. He was
oddly surprised to see that he was still present.
The little man didn’t wait for the question. He raised the paper and read, “It says here that
you should contact Senator Amidala, and that she will know what to do.”
“Who are you?” Amedda demanded again, this time of the dwarf.
“I might ask you the same thing,” the dwarf replied, folding his arms, his eyes narrowed
suspiciously.
“I am the Vice Chancellor of the Republic,” Amedda told him, his chest puffed out as he
said it. “And in fact, since the chancellor appears to be dead, that would make me the ...”
“Not yet,” Organa cut in quickly.
“I beg your pardon,” Amedda sneered.
“There is some question of your complicity in the chancellor’s crimes,” Organa told him,
careful to speak so the clones still in the room could hear him.
“What crimes?” Amedda demanded.
“They will be investigated,” Bail told him. “However, until the investigation is complete,
you can not be sworn in as chancellor.”
Amedda’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but he said nothing. Organa took the opportunity to
send one of the clones to summon Padme, though he was mystified about what she could possibly
do.
“The security hologram will tell us what went on in this room,” Amedda suddenly
announced, directing a clone near him to obtain it. “That’s all the proof the senate will need.”
Organa stopped the clone as he prepared to remove the disk.
“Leave it,” he told the soldier. To Amedda he said, “We shall keep each other honest.
Senator Amidala will be here shortly. She and I will represent the senate. You will be a
representative of the office of the chancellor...” He looked sadly back at Anakin and at the bodies he
knew were just beyond the far door, then continued, “The Jedi are involved as well; Captain
Morgan, will you please send someone to let them know what has happened and request a Jedi
representative to join us? Then we can all watch the security hologram together right where it is.”
Amedda looked sullen, but did not argue as another clone left the room. Neither he nor
Organa moved as they waited, each intent on keeping the other from gaining any advantage.
“You’ll regret this, Organa,” Amedda spat quietly after they’d been waiting awhile, showing
the twin tips of his forked tongue.
“Possibly,” Bail admitted, hoping something would exist to implicate the Chagrian. But
even if not, he had faith in the senate - with the backing of the 2000 - to declare that Palpatine’s
special powers did not roll over automatically to his successor. If his own political career was
ruined in the process, he thought it would be well worth the sacrifice.
Jedi Master Shaak Ti arrived soon thereafter, her eyes wide with apprehension which turned
to curiosity when she saw where Anakin lay. Organa quickly explained what they knew, and also
his own plan to view the security recording as a group to guard against anyone’s altering its content
later. As they waited for Padme to arrive, she made the sad discovery of her three fellow masters
lying dead on the threshold of the inner office.
“I’m sorry,” Organa told her as she returned to where they stood. “I should have warned
you about what you would find.”
But she only waved away his apology and asked where Master Windu was.
“Windu?” he asked, surprised. “I haven’t seen him.”
She was in the process of explaining that Master Windu had been the one to lead the others
to the chancellor’s office when Padme appeared on the doorstep, now dressed, he noticed, in a
garment that did not attempt to hide her condition.
“Shall we get on with this?” Amedda said acerbically, the only acknowledgment of her
presence he deigned to give.
“Bail?” she asked hesitantly, ignoring Amedda as he had her, though Organa saw raw fear
in her eyes.
“Padme, come in,” he told her gently. “The chancellor is dead.”
“Dead?” she asked, shocked, as she slowly walked farther into the room.
“Yes,” he assured her, and began once again to explain what they were about to do, when
her eyes fell on the glass coffin containing Anakin Skywalker.
All the color drained from her face. Organa stepped forward as he saw her begin to sway,
and caught her as her legs gave way beneath her. He eased her to the carpet, crouching beside her,
noting that her eyes never left what had transfixed them. Beneath his hands, he felt her shaking.
“Wh ...” she whispered, unable to form the words.
He started to explain what the dwarf had said about her presence being necessary, and then
stopped himself. In the middle of the explanation it had suddenly become remarkably obvious to
him that Anakin Skywalker had to be her absent husband. His heart went out to her - how
anguished and alone she must feel, walking in here to see that, unprepared, and unable to even admit
to the relationship?
“He’s alive,” he told her quietly. “The medics say he’s in a sort of stasis chamber.”
At this news, she turned her head towards him, her tear-filled eyes beseeching him
wordlessly for the answer to her unspoken question: What happened to him?
“We’re about to play the security hologram of what happened; none of us really knows,
although there has been an accusation that Chancellor Palpatine was a Sith Lord.” He waited a
moment for the information to sink in, hearing Amedda huff in the background. Finally, he added,
“Are you up to watching it with us?”
She swallowed and tried to blink away her tears, though she was obviously still shaking
badly. After a moment of trying to regain her composure, during which she studiously avoided
looking at the casket, she nodded. The waiting clone switched it on and they all stared at the display
with interest.
“It’s blank,” said Amedda’s voice harshly, stating the obvious.
Organa was about to ask the clone what was the matter with it, when, abruptly, the picture
switched on, showing the chancellor’s inner office as the four Jedi Masters burst through the door,
Mace Windu announcing that they’d come to remove Palpatine from office.
Amedda interrupted to pounce on what he called the Jedis’ illegal act. Organa was in the
process of trying to quiet him so they could hear what was being said when Palpatine unexpectedly
pulled out a light saber and cut three of the surprised Jedi down where they stood. Amedda fell
silent without further prompting.
Windu and Palpatine parried, the chancellor driving the Jedi back into the outer office.
Once in the larger room, Palpatine’s advance stalled, and they fought more evenly back and forth
before the floor-to-ceiling window, which abruptly shattered as the chancellor’s red light saber made
contact with the glass. But the move, if it had been intentional, cost him. In the subsequent wind, he
lost his advantage entirely, and Windu disarmed him easily. He stumbled backwards on the wide
sill, shrinking away from the point of the Jedi’s weapon. But then, as Windu declared him beaten,
he proved, beyond any shadow of lingering doubt, that he was indeed the Sith Lord he’d been
accused of being: He shot lightning from his fingertips, an offensive attack only possible for the
Force-sensitive. Windu blocked it with his light saber, though it appeared he did so with great
difficulty. Then, horribly, Palpatine’s face began to melt, his distinguished features taking on a
harsh cast as they aged visibly in seconds, revealing his apparently true age to be far older than
anyone would have imagined. Another figure appeared beside him - Anakin Skywalker - who had
simply walked up to the great duel and stood, watching it as a spectator. Organa felt Padme clutch
his arm.
It soon became clear that he was much more than an audience, however, as each of the men
took turns trying to convince him to intervene on their behalf. Windu appealed to his Jedi training;
Palpatine, who was beginning to falter, appealed to his mercy; he was, he said, an old man, unable to
continue the fight, but more importantly, at least from Organa’s viewpoint (now that he was aware
of Anakin and Padme’s relationship), the chancellor called out in what sounded ominously like a
threat that he had “the power to save the one you love.” Still, Skywalker stood like a statue and
took no action as Palpatine’s Force-lightning ceased.
Mace stumbled slightly as the onslaught against him died away, and gasped with exertion.
Then, renewing his grip on the hilt of his light saber, he announced, “I’m going to end this once and
for all.” This statement finally got Skywalker’s attention, and he protested - rightly, Organa thought
- that it was against the Jedi Code. But the older man now paid no attention and raised his weapon
to strike. The chancellor cowered in fear, wailing, begging Anakin to save him. As Windu began
his follow-through, Skywalker suddenly cried out, “I need him!” and in a back-handed motion,
engaged his own blade, neatly blocking the Master’s less than a meter from its target.
The distraction was all it took. Palpatine, who had been feigning weakness all along,
obviously for Anakin’s benefit, suddenly renewed his attack in earnest, the Force-lightning now
catching Windu bodily before he could disengage his light saber to block it as he screamed in
triumph, “Unlimited power!” Windu screamed as the bolts ripped through his body, his weapon
flashing out as it fell from his numbed fingers to the carpet.
Skywalker stood for a moment, apparently numb with shock. At last, after a long hesitation,
he raised his own weapon with both hands and blocked Palpatine’s lightning. Beside him, Mace
slumped to the floor, moaning, small arcs of electricity still licking at his frame. The chancellor
snarled ferally and fixed his sickly yellow gaze upon the man still standing. In a gesture given
almost as an afterthought, he swept one hand away in an arc. The leader of the Jedi Council lifted
from the floor and was flung out the window, his screams fading into the distance.
Skywalker’s face was now visible as he gazed despondently at the Sith Lord, tears clouding
his eyes and rolling unheeded down his cheeks, his weapon fallen to the floor beside him in his
shock.
“Become my apprentice, Anakin,” the chancellor told him, his rough, grating voice unlike
any they had ever heard. “It is your destiny.”
Beside him, Organa heard Padme moan. Stealing a glance at her face, he saw it was wet
with tears, as her husband’s. He squeezed her gently and returned his attention to the hologram,
where nothing appeared to have changed.
The chancellor stood for a moment longer, waiting. Then he squared his shoulders within
his robe and said, “You should have joined me willingly while you had the chance. Now your poor
wife will not survive.”
As he unleashed the Force lightning upon Anakin, Padme cried out and looked away,
burying her face in Organa’s shoulder. But none of them could avoid the sound of the young man’s
screams or the evil laughter of his attacker. The punishment continued for a long time; long enough
that Organa was about to ask the clone to mute the sound, when it abruptly ceased on its own:
Writhing on the floor, Skywalker had rolled on top of Windu’s discarded light saber. In a single
motion that cost him all his strength, he swung it around, ignited, and ran the Sith Lord through.
Both men fell to the floor, motionless. But that was not the end of the activity on the
recording. Whispered voices sounded in the background, many of the words indistinct. But after a
moment, the voices’ owners came into view - a man and pregnant woman - the mysterious Virginia
Organa had seen when Kenobi had called her from his office. The two spoke a moment, the content
of their conversation as mysterious as they were, though they appeared to be concerned for at least
one of those who had fallen. Then, Virginia seemed to remember something and activated an
instrument she’d had in her pocket. At she touched it, an army of little men had poured into the
office, literally from nowhere, bringing materials with them to erect the glass coffin around Anakin
Skywalker. When it was finished, everyone left, save for the one who still remained. When Organa
entered the office, the clone stopped the recording and they all looked at each other and then at the
dwarf still present.
But he didn’t shrink from the sudden attention. Instead he stepped forward to where Padme
and Bail sat huddled together on the floor, and looked her straight in the eye.
“Are you Senator Amidala?” he asked.
She stared at him numbly, but managed to nod and whisper, “yes,” in a broken voice.
“Then you are the one,” he said, gesturing to the glass casket containing her husband.
She blinked and a little life came back to her; at least it was the first time since she’d
collapsed that Organa had felt her try to move of her own volition, save to turn her head away from
the most painful part of the hologram. He got to his feet and half carried her over to the coffin, next
to Anakin’s face, and sat her down beside him. She leaned forward, her hands clutching the glass
sides of the container. As he stood to move away, he saw her tentatively reach out, then choke back
a sob as she snatched her hand away before touching her husband For what seemed like several long
moments, she sat there silently, crying, her eyes never leaving him. Then she began to speak, half-
whispering in a low murmur.
“We said it would destroy us,” he heard her say sadly, “and now it has.” A few more sobs
escaped her before she added, “So this is how your dream comes true. Now I understand ...” She
raised the tips of her fingers to her tear-stained lips and kissed them. “Goodbye, my sweet love,” she
whispered as she touched the fingers to her husband’s still lips. Tears slid off the end of her nose and
her chin, falling onto the glass inside the casket.
Her fingers lingered long on his lips as her chest rose and fell, her breathing now becoming
labored. She trailed her hand down his throat to his chest in a gentle caress. As she reached his
solar plexus, he suddenly gave out a great gasp, choked, and twisted to the side.
“Anakin!” she cried, coming suddenly back to life, now leaning into the casket herself, one
hand around him, the other slipped beneath his cheek. “Anakin...”
His eyes fluttered open as he blinked, winced, and tried to sit up.
“Padme ...” he croaked.
She helped pull him towards her and they embraced, holding each other for dear life,
oblivious to the witnesses surrounding them.
Still to come – the epilogue ...
team passed him to check on the fallen.
Amedda blinked, momentarily taken aback by the accusation, but recovered almost
immediately.
“What evidence exists to support this outlandish theory?” he demanded.
“That’s what we’re trying to determine right now,” Organa told him equitably. “However,
the state of his body alone is sufficient evidence that he was not who he said he was, no matter what
that turns out to be.”
“His body?” Amedda stepped forward, a bit too anxiously, Organa thought. His eyes,
however, did not fall on the chancellor’s remains, but on the glowing glass coffin in the center of the
room, now surrounded by the medical team. “What is that thing?” he demanded coldly.
The lead member of the medical team stood and faced them.
“Sir, it appears to be generating a stasis field of some sort,” he said. “We’re detecting very
low-level life signs, consistent with that. But it’s of some alien technology that we’re unfamiliar
with.”
“He’s not dead, then?” Organa asked hopefully.
“He could be,” came the reply, “This could simply have him on life support. It’s impossible
to say unless we remove him. But that, in itself, could kill him. We don’t dare do anything unless
we know what happened to him.”
Organa’s eyes sought out the tiny man who’d been present when he’d first arrived. He was
oddly surprised to see that he was still present.
The little man didn’t wait for the question. He raised the paper and read, “It says here that
you should contact Senator Amidala, and that she will know what to do.”
“Who are you?” Amedda demanded again, this time of the dwarf.
“I might ask you the same thing,” the dwarf replied, folding his arms, his eyes narrowed
suspiciously.
“I am the Vice Chancellor of the Republic,” Amedda told him, his chest puffed out as he
said it. “And in fact, since the chancellor appears to be dead, that would make me the ...”
“Not yet,” Organa cut in quickly.
“I beg your pardon,” Amedda sneered.
“There is some question of your complicity in the chancellor’s crimes,” Organa told him,
careful to speak so the clones still in the room could hear him.
“What crimes?” Amedda demanded.
“They will be investigated,” Bail told him. “However, until the investigation is complete,
you can not be sworn in as chancellor.”
Amedda’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but he said nothing. Organa took the opportunity to
send one of the clones to summon Padme, though he was mystified about what she could possibly
do.
“The security hologram will tell us what went on in this room,” Amedda suddenly
announced, directing a clone near him to obtain it. “That’s all the proof the senate will need.”
Organa stopped the clone as he prepared to remove the disk.
“Leave it,” he told the soldier. To Amedda he said, “We shall keep each other honest.
Senator Amidala will be here shortly. She and I will represent the senate. You will be a
representative of the office of the chancellor...” He looked sadly back at Anakin and at the bodies he
knew were just beyond the far door, then continued, “The Jedi are involved as well; Captain
Morgan, will you please send someone to let them know what has happened and request a Jedi
representative to join us? Then we can all watch the security hologram together right where it is.”
Amedda looked sullen, but did not argue as another clone left the room. Neither he nor
Organa moved as they waited, each intent on keeping the other from gaining any advantage.
“You’ll regret this, Organa,” Amedda spat quietly after they’d been waiting awhile, showing
the twin tips of his forked tongue.
“Possibly,” Bail admitted, hoping something would exist to implicate the Chagrian. But
even if not, he had faith in the senate - with the backing of the 2000 - to declare that Palpatine’s
special powers did not roll over automatically to his successor. If his own political career was
ruined in the process, he thought it would be well worth the sacrifice.
Jedi Master Shaak Ti arrived soon thereafter, her eyes wide with apprehension which turned
to curiosity when she saw where Anakin lay. Organa quickly explained what they knew, and also
his own plan to view the security recording as a group to guard against anyone’s altering its content
later. As they waited for Padme to arrive, she made the sad discovery of her three fellow masters
lying dead on the threshold of the inner office.
“I’m sorry,” Organa told her as she returned to where they stood. “I should have warned
you about what you would find.”
But she only waved away his apology and asked where Master Windu was.
“Windu?” he asked, surprised. “I haven’t seen him.”
She was in the process of explaining that Master Windu had been the one to lead the others
to the chancellor’s office when Padme appeared on the doorstep, now dressed, he noticed, in a
garment that did not attempt to hide her condition.
“Shall we get on with this?” Amedda said acerbically, the only acknowledgment of her
presence he deigned to give.
“Bail?” she asked hesitantly, ignoring Amedda as he had her, though Organa saw raw fear
in her eyes.
“Padme, come in,” he told her gently. “The chancellor is dead.”
“Dead?” she asked, shocked, as she slowly walked farther into the room.
“Yes,” he assured her, and began once again to explain what they were about to do, when
her eyes fell on the glass coffin containing Anakin Skywalker.
All the color drained from her face. Organa stepped forward as he saw her begin to sway,
and caught her as her legs gave way beneath her. He eased her to the carpet, crouching beside her,
noting that her eyes never left what had transfixed them. Beneath his hands, he felt her shaking.
“Wh ...” she whispered, unable to form the words.
He started to explain what the dwarf had said about her presence being necessary, and then
stopped himself. In the middle of the explanation it had suddenly become remarkably obvious to
him that Anakin Skywalker had to be her absent husband. His heart went out to her - how
anguished and alone she must feel, walking in here to see that, unprepared, and unable to even admit
to the relationship?
“He’s alive,” he told her quietly. “The medics say he’s in a sort of stasis chamber.”
At this news, she turned her head towards him, her tear-filled eyes beseeching him
wordlessly for the answer to her unspoken question: What happened to him?
“We’re about to play the security hologram of what happened; none of us really knows,
although there has been an accusation that Chancellor Palpatine was a Sith Lord.” He waited a
moment for the information to sink in, hearing Amedda huff in the background. Finally, he added,
“Are you up to watching it with us?”
She swallowed and tried to blink away her tears, though she was obviously still shaking
badly. After a moment of trying to regain her composure, during which she studiously avoided
looking at the casket, she nodded. The waiting clone switched it on and they all stared at the display
with interest.
“It’s blank,” said Amedda’s voice harshly, stating the obvious.
Organa was about to ask the clone what was the matter with it, when, abruptly, the picture
switched on, showing the chancellor’s inner office as the four Jedi Masters burst through the door,
Mace Windu announcing that they’d come to remove Palpatine from office.
Amedda interrupted to pounce on what he called the Jedis’ illegal act. Organa was in the
process of trying to quiet him so they could hear what was being said when Palpatine unexpectedly
pulled out a light saber and cut three of the surprised Jedi down where they stood. Amedda fell
silent without further prompting.
Windu and Palpatine parried, the chancellor driving the Jedi back into the outer office.
Once in the larger room, Palpatine’s advance stalled, and they fought more evenly back and forth
before the floor-to-ceiling window, which abruptly shattered as the chancellor’s red light saber made
contact with the glass. But the move, if it had been intentional, cost him. In the subsequent wind, he
lost his advantage entirely, and Windu disarmed him easily. He stumbled backwards on the wide
sill, shrinking away from the point of the Jedi’s weapon. But then, as Windu declared him beaten,
he proved, beyond any shadow of lingering doubt, that he was indeed the Sith Lord he’d been
accused of being: He shot lightning from his fingertips, an offensive attack only possible for the
Force-sensitive. Windu blocked it with his light saber, though it appeared he did so with great
difficulty. Then, horribly, Palpatine’s face began to melt, his distinguished features taking on a
harsh cast as they aged visibly in seconds, revealing his apparently true age to be far older than
anyone would have imagined. Another figure appeared beside him - Anakin Skywalker - who had
simply walked up to the great duel and stood, watching it as a spectator. Organa felt Padme clutch
his arm.
It soon became clear that he was much more than an audience, however, as each of the men
took turns trying to convince him to intervene on their behalf. Windu appealed to his Jedi training;
Palpatine, who was beginning to falter, appealed to his mercy; he was, he said, an old man, unable to
continue the fight, but more importantly, at least from Organa’s viewpoint (now that he was aware
of Anakin and Padme’s relationship), the chancellor called out in what sounded ominously like a
threat that he had “the power to save the one you love.” Still, Skywalker stood like a statue and
took no action as Palpatine’s Force-lightning ceased.
Mace stumbled slightly as the onslaught against him died away, and gasped with exertion.
Then, renewing his grip on the hilt of his light saber, he announced, “I’m going to end this once and
for all.” This statement finally got Skywalker’s attention, and he protested - rightly, Organa thought
- that it was against the Jedi Code. But the older man now paid no attention and raised his weapon
to strike. The chancellor cowered in fear, wailing, begging Anakin to save him. As Windu began
his follow-through, Skywalker suddenly cried out, “I need him!” and in a back-handed motion,
engaged his own blade, neatly blocking the Master’s less than a meter from its target.
The distraction was all it took. Palpatine, who had been feigning weakness all along,
obviously for Anakin’s benefit, suddenly renewed his attack in earnest, the Force-lightning now
catching Windu bodily before he could disengage his light saber to block it as he screamed in
triumph, “Unlimited power!” Windu screamed as the bolts ripped through his body, his weapon
flashing out as it fell from his numbed fingers to the carpet.
Skywalker stood for a moment, apparently numb with shock. At last, after a long hesitation,
he raised his own weapon with both hands and blocked Palpatine’s lightning. Beside him, Mace
slumped to the floor, moaning, small arcs of electricity still licking at his frame. The chancellor
snarled ferally and fixed his sickly yellow gaze upon the man still standing. In a gesture given
almost as an afterthought, he swept one hand away in an arc. The leader of the Jedi Council lifted
from the floor and was flung out the window, his screams fading into the distance.
Skywalker’s face was now visible as he gazed despondently at the Sith Lord, tears clouding
his eyes and rolling unheeded down his cheeks, his weapon fallen to the floor beside him in his
shock.
“Become my apprentice, Anakin,” the chancellor told him, his rough, grating voice unlike
any they had ever heard. “It is your destiny.”
Beside him, Organa heard Padme moan. Stealing a glance at her face, he saw it was wet
with tears, as her husband’s. He squeezed her gently and returned his attention to the hologram,
where nothing appeared to have changed.
The chancellor stood for a moment longer, waiting. Then he squared his shoulders within
his robe and said, “You should have joined me willingly while you had the chance. Now your poor
wife will not survive.”
As he unleashed the Force lightning upon Anakin, Padme cried out and looked away,
burying her face in Organa’s shoulder. But none of them could avoid the sound of the young man’s
screams or the evil laughter of his attacker. The punishment continued for a long time; long enough
that Organa was about to ask the clone to mute the sound, when it abruptly ceased on its own:
Writhing on the floor, Skywalker had rolled on top of Windu’s discarded light saber. In a single
motion that cost him all his strength, he swung it around, ignited, and ran the Sith Lord through.
Both men fell to the floor, motionless. But that was not the end of the activity on the
recording. Whispered voices sounded in the background, many of the words indistinct. But after a
moment, the voices’ owners came into view - a man and pregnant woman - the mysterious Virginia
Organa had seen when Kenobi had called her from his office. The two spoke a moment, the content
of their conversation as mysterious as they were, though they appeared to be concerned for at least
one of those who had fallen. Then, Virginia seemed to remember something and activated an
instrument she’d had in her pocket. At she touched it, an army of little men had poured into the
office, literally from nowhere, bringing materials with them to erect the glass coffin around Anakin
Skywalker. When it was finished, everyone left, save for the one who still remained. When Organa
entered the office, the clone stopped the recording and they all looked at each other and then at the
dwarf still present.
But he didn’t shrink from the sudden attention. Instead he stepped forward to where Padme
and Bail sat huddled together on the floor, and looked her straight in the eye.
“Are you Senator Amidala?” he asked.
She stared at him numbly, but managed to nod and whisper, “yes,” in a broken voice.
“Then you are the one,” he said, gesturing to the glass casket containing her husband.
She blinked and a little life came back to her; at least it was the first time since she’d
collapsed that Organa had felt her try to move of her own volition, save to turn her head away from
the most painful part of the hologram. He got to his feet and half carried her over to the coffin, next
to Anakin’s face, and sat her down beside him. She leaned forward, her hands clutching the glass
sides of the container. As he stood to move away, he saw her tentatively reach out, then choke back
a sob as she snatched her hand away before touching her husband For what seemed like several long
moments, she sat there silently, crying, her eyes never leaving him. Then she began to speak, half-
whispering in a low murmur.
“We said it would destroy us,” he heard her say sadly, “and now it has.” A few more sobs
escaped her before she added, “So this is how your dream comes true. Now I understand ...” She
raised the tips of her fingers to her tear-stained lips and kissed them. “Goodbye, my sweet love,” she
whispered as she touched the fingers to her husband’s still lips. Tears slid off the end of her nose and
her chin, falling onto the glass inside the casket.
Her fingers lingered long on his lips as her chest rose and fell, her breathing now becoming
labored. She trailed her hand down his throat to his chest in a gentle caress. As she reached his
solar plexus, he suddenly gave out a great gasp, choked, and twisted to the side.
“Anakin!” she cried, coming suddenly back to life, now leaning into the casket herself, one
hand around him, the other slipped beneath his cheek. “Anakin...”
His eyes fluttered open as he blinked, winced, and tried to sit up.
“Padme ...” he croaked.
She helped pull him towards her and they embraced, holding each other for dear life,
oblivious to the witnesses surrounding them.
Still to come – the epilogue ...
