Notebook Mythology

Friday, April 29, 2005

Surrender Ch. 1: Republic Cruiser (Part 1: Padmé)

"Ask me no more: thy fate and mine are seal'd;
I strove against the stream and all in vain:
Let the great river take me to the main:
No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield;
Ask me no more."
-Alfred, Lord Tennyson



It was dark, and there was pain. All she was aware of was pain. A fire licked at her back and burned through her body. Where had the fire come from, why was it burning her so? She couldn't breathe. Everything was dark.

Padmé Amidala opened her eyes to the harsh glare of white lights on metallic walls. She was on a ship. For a moment, as her mind cleared, she wondered whether she was on her way to Naboo or Coruscant.

Comprehension came in a rush. She remembered the arena and the battle, although the whole thing was a frantic blur of sand and blasters and the flashing of lightsabers. The only truly clear image that came to her was Anakin, standing exhausted in Dooku's hangar, his arm severed.

She remembered that she had held him tightly, desperately. There had been others there watching, but in that moment she hadn't thought to care. Later, while boarding the ship-- a Republic Cruiser, she thought-- Mace Windu had pulled her away from Anakin, saying that her being in the way wouldn't do either of them any good...

And where was Anakin now?

Padmé tried to sit up and gasped as the pain shot through her. The nexu, with its claws and teeth that would haunt her nightmares-- the blasted nexu had scratched her across the back, that was why it burned like fire. Then she had fallen out of that shuttle over the Geonosian desert-- for the first time she wondered how long she had lain there in the sand. Surely not more than a few minutes...

At the time, she hadn't even noticed the pain. She hadn't allowed herself to feel it. There had been more important things to attend to, far more important than she was. But now the rush of battle was over, and there was nothing to distract her. Now she was bandaged and sore, and the slightest wrong movement felt like the stab of knives. Clenching her teeth, she had begun to edge out of her bed when a healer, a dark-skinned female Jedi, came in.

"Hello, Senator." The healer had a kind, soft voice, and introduced herself as Jedi Knight Stass Allie. Padmé felt sure she had seen her before.

"How long have I been asleep?" She hadn't wanted to sleep and hadn't thought that she could, but she'd been so exhausted.

"We left Geonosis about an hour ago, and will reach Coruscant in a few more." Stass Allie sighed. "You're very lucky, Senator. Your worst wounds are the gashes across your back. Those will heal, but they'll leave scars, I'm afraid."

"Thank you," Padmé responded politely, although she truthfully did not care and her toleration for polite conversation was rapidly wearing thin. There was only one question she wanted the answer to, only one question she was afraid to ask. "Anakin Skywalker... Is Anakin Skywalker all right?"

The smile faded from Allie's face, but she nodded. "He should recover." Padmé let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, but if the healer noticed, she didn't comment. "He'll receive a prosthetic arm on Coruscant."

"And Master Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

"Recovering as well." The healer hesitated. "They battled Count Dooku himself. It's amazing they survived." She stopped abruptly, unable to say more.

"How many Jedi... fell?" Padmé asked.

"So many... They aren't sure. Far more than half..."

The Jedi bent her head in a way that suddenly made Padmé recall meeting, in the aftermath of the Battle of Naboo, with people who had lost their families in the blockade. This woman was like that now. The Jedi Order was her family, probably the only family she had ever known. She had been seeing to all the wounded since departure, and the job was taking its toll. The battle had been so devastating, and there had been so few at the end. Padmé reached out to her and touched her arm.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, wishing she could say more. Stass Allie nodded, grateful for the Senator's understanding, and resumed her composure.

"Master Yoda wished to speak with you when you awoke. He should be in shortly."

Padmé bit her lip in frustration. She had hoped to search for Anakin immediately, if only to see him, to touch him. Then there was the fact that when the ship arrived at Coruscant she would have to inform the Senate that they were at war and somehow explain her own participation in the first battle alongside an army whose very creation she had fervently opposed-- a clone army, she recalled with a wince, whose creation must have actually begun long ago... and all she could think of was Anakin.

Yes, that was what frustrated her most. The only thing that seemed to truly matter in all this chaos was the young Jedi who had come into her life and suddenly changed it. And now he was alone, and suffering, and the only thing that made sense was to go to him and hold him and never leave. A part of Padmé told her that this was not rational thought, that nothing had changed since she'd refused to hear Anakin's pleas-- had it really been only days ago?-- but this was not true. In the instant she had told Anakin how she loved him, everything had changed. She groaned, watching the situation wheel giddily out of her control.

At this moment Master Yoda hobbled into the room. He looked worn, more troubled and weary than Padmé had ever seen him.

"Master Yoda." Her formal tone felt strange under the rather undignified circumstances; she had been given a spare Jedi undertunic to wear, and her hair had half fallen down. She must have looked ridiculous. "Your presence is an honor."

"Recovering well, are you, Senator?" the Master asked.

"Yes, thank you. But I would like to see Jedi Skywalker as soon as possible."

Yoda sighed, shaking his head. "Not at this time, I think."

There was something in his tone Padmé couldn't quite identify that put her on edge.

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"Meditate, he should," Yoda explained, "and rest."

"I wouldn't keep him long." She paused, overriding her emotional turmoil in favor of a logical appeal. "He saved my life. I believe I owe him my thanks, at least."

"Your life would not have been in such danger, if brought you to Geonosis, he had not."

"He didn't bring me there. I would have come with or without his protection." Her voice dropped as a feeling of guilt swept over her. "This was my fault."

Master Yoda appeared to accept this as truth. "Responsibility for Skywalker's choices, you cannot claim. Nevertheless, allow him to see you, we cannot."

Cannot allow it? Padmé bit back a retort she might regret. Yoda looked up at her, knowing she would have caught the change of phrase and waiting for a reaction. During the ensuing pause, Padmé had the unnerving feeling that the little green Jedi Master was somehow reading her thoughts.

"You're forbidding him to see me?" she asked finally, turning her eyes away. "May I ask why?"

"Emotional, young Skywalker can be. Easily conflicted."

"I have never intended to cause him conflict." If anything, he had caused her conflict during the past days on Naboo and Tatooine. But Master Yoda could not possibly know of that, so why this separation?

"Hmm." Yoda looked askance at her. "Typical among the Naboo, is it, to greet a Jedi with such an embrace?"

So that was the cause of all this. Padmé felt herself blush. Much to her dismay, her response came out sounding flustered.

"That was a very... I was emotional. I'm sorry if... I assure you, Master Yoda, Anakin and I are friends. Nothing more."

Again that penetrating gaze, searching into her very soul.

"Strong feelings I sense in you, Padmé."

Before she could think of another word to say, he had gone.

After another hour, the confinement of the small room had begun to seem like a punishment. Which, she supposed, it was. The Masters of the Jedi Order now apparently thought her a dangerous woman wont to compromise the morality of Jedi padawans. That was a problem that could be dealt with later. For now, she simply needed to see Anakin. It was as if an intangible but powerful force was drawing her to him. Once the ship docked on Coruscant they would be torn away from each other-- she to her duties in the Senate, he to his with the Jedi-- who knew when they would be this close to one another again?

If they would be this close to one another again.

It was a risk she was in no way interested in taking. She told Stass Allie that she only wanted to walk around, and was given reluctant permission. Ignoring the pain which came with every step, Padmé moved into the depths of the huge Republic Cruiser. The trick now would be to find Anakin before a Jedi who was aware of the situation found her and asked what she was doing, probably politely escorting her back to her room as she invented an explanation.

The corridors all looked the same, and most were eerily silent. Padmé could not begin to guess where she was or which room to go to. After a few moments of aimless wandering, hopelessly lost and seconds away from sitting down on the floor and waiting for someone, however unpleasant, to discover her, she found a friend. A small astromech droid was barreling down the hallway in her direction, squealing wildly.

"Artoo?" she smiled, kneeling down to level herself with R2-D2's domed head. "How did you get here? I thought you were going to stay on the ship." The droid whistled cheerfully. Padmé shook her head, realizing now that she should have known better. She knew this little droid well enough to know that he would never have stayed put. Somewhat like herself in similar situations. "Well, I'm glad you didn't. Did you bring Threepio with you?" He beeped an affirmative.

So, instead of being left in the Naboo yacht on Geonosis where they would probably have been scrapped, the two droids had made it through the battle and were currently roaming around on a Republic Cruiser...

Padmé hesitated, glancing down the corridor. She lowered her voice. "Do you know where Anakin is?" Artoo seemed happy that she'd asked.

Padmé followed the droid to a door not far away, where he whistled softly and backed away, allowing her to approach. She stopped before the door. Maybe it would be better if she went back to her room now and left him alone. But her heart was screaming out, Anakin is in here, and she didn't think she could bear the pain of ignoring it again. She pressed the button that would open the doorway and stepped inside.

The room was dim. Anakin sat in his bed, staring into space, his face a grim mask. The wrenching pain of his tortured thoughts and emotions where compressed, almost tangible, in the room's dark atmosphere. Padmé found herself pressed up against the wall, unwilling to break the deep silence. Quietly, she found the mechanism which closed the door behind her.

Anakin looked up at the sound of the door whirring shut. His features immediately softened as his eyes locked with Padmé's across the room. For a moment they regarded one another in a silence that neither of them knew how to break. Then Padmé came forward and knelt beside the bed, choking out, "Ani..."

"Padmé," he breathed, reaching out to touch her hand as though he wasn't quite sure she was real. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." She almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the question. Her eyes traveled from his face to his right arm, which was covered with a sheet. She gently raised her hand to move it aside, "Let me see."

"No!" He jerked away with a sudden violence that was startling. Padmé looked at him in surprise.

"Anakin." Her tone was firm. He turned his head as she pulled the sheet away and drew in a deep breath, not quite a gasp. The arm had been severed just below the elbow, and above the bandage at the end she could see bruises and burns. She had expected it to be no better than this and had been prepared for much worse, but still she felt tears stinging her eyes. I will not cry, she told herself. Not here. Not now. "Oh, Ani..."

"The pain's not too bad now," Anakin said. He was lying through his teeth.

"I shouldn't have made you come. This wouldn't have happened..." Padmé didn't want to look at the padawan's face, but she saw him shake his head.

"No. Obi-Wan would've died." He gave a small smile. "And we wouldn't... You would never have kissed me." He was right. She probably wouldn't have. Padmé looked into Anakin's eyes and was somehow surprised to see that he, too, was fighting back tears. "I love you, Padmé," he said. He hadn't said those words before, he hadn't needed to, but hearing them made Padmé go warm all over. "I needed to tell you because... we may never be with one another again."

"Anakin..."

He stopped her. "At Geonosis... in the arena... you said you loved me. That was enough. I know what the circumstances were... and I don't expect anything more. But that moment... that meant everything. That's all."

"Ani." Padmé took his hand and held it tightly and kissed it. "Nothing's changed since then, not for me. I love you. It wasn't easy to say, Anakin, but I meant every word. And I won't take it back now... because it's true."

Anakin looked at her, looked into her eyes, as though he couldn't believe the words until he saw them there. His face lit up the same way it had at the entrance to the arena, when both of them had thought they were going to die and hadn't been afraid. But as quickly as that light came, it faded, and Anakin's eyes traveled down to the severed end of his arm. Padmé followed his gaze, wondering if he really thought that could matter to her.

"Even after..." He couldn't even finish the question.

"I love you. All of you. And that's not going to change." She kept her face somber as she added, "So you'd better get used to it."

Then she kissed him, elated at the freedom and passion that she had found somewhere within herself, almost overwhelmed by the love for Anakin that she no longer wished to escape. Anakin's hand moved to her back, pressing against the place where bandages covered the deep gashes from the nexu. The sudden stab of pain made her pull back with a sharp intake of breath. Anakin's brow furrowed in concern.

"Just scratches, courtesy of an angry nexu," she said lightly, shaking her head. "They'll heal."

He kissed her again, much more softly now. She wasn't sure how long she sat there beside his bed, looking into his eyes as he looked into hers, forgetting everything but the fact that they loved each other. Padmé didn't want that time to stop, but knew with increasing certainty that it would, and that they would then have to face a galaxy in turmoil and a question that neither of them knew how to answer.

"Anakin... what happens now?"

Anakin sighed, as if coming back from a long way away. "I don't know. I wish I knew."

So they had reached an impasse, so close to having each other yet just as close to being wrenched apart. Padmé could feel her hand still wrapped tightly in Anakin's, and she thought that no pain she could endure would be worse than taking it back and walking away.

"We need more time," she said, half to herself.

"There must be some way..." Anakin's eyes were trained on the door, listening as voices passed by. "If I could escort you back to Naboo--"

"They'd never let you."

"Who wouldn't?" the young Jedi asked indignantly.

"The Jedi Council. I had a talk with Master Yoda." Anakin nodded in understanding. "They're not too pleased with me right now. They seem to hold suspicions that I'm some kind of dangerous Jedi seductress."

"Yes, that's you." Anakin smiled. "And they don't exactly know you've come here, do they?"

"Not exactly." Padmé returned his smile. She felt like a little girl disobeying her parents. She wanted to laugh, but was afraid she would end up crying.

"Leave the Jedi to me." At her inquisitive look, he added, "I've learned a lot about diplomacy in the last few days."

"But Ani, if they won't allow it..." She squeezed his hand tighter. As afraid as she had been to love Anakin yesterday, she was now afraid that she would lose him, and never see him again.

"It's our only chance. We can't talk here." Anakin suddenly looked tired, his eyes once again moving to the place where his right hand should have been.

"I know," Padmé whispered. "You should rest."

He nodded, and kissed her. "No matter what," he murmured before letting her go, "this is not goodbye."

She left quietly, feeling him watching her until the door closed behind her.

Artoo was waiting in the hallway. He gave what sounded like a sympathetic whistle as they turned back in the direction of her own room. After only a few steps C-3PO appeared from behind.

"There you are, you miserable little machine! What were you thinking, leaving me alone like that? Oh!" He noticed Padmé for the first time. "Hello, Miss Padmé."

"Anakin's resting. You can come with me, Threepio," she said wearily, deciding that the droids' company would at least keep her mind off the way her heart was aching.

Threepio and Padmé followed Artoo down a corridor that would lead them to their destination. Approaching from the opposite direction Padmé saw a familiar figure in Jedi robes. Obi-Wan Kenobi. He stopped before her and nodded a greeting.

"Senator. It's good to see that you are up and about." His voice was courteous, but in his eyes she saw none of the familiarity and warmth of a few days before.

"Thank you, Master Kenobi," Padmé responded, automatically switching her bearing to that of Senator Amidala. "I must say the same of you. I was just trying to locate these droids of mine."

Obi-Wan's glance flashed to the two droids, then back to her face, searching. She had been well trained in keeping a neutral countenance under that sort of gaze. Finally he nodded again and said, "I'm glad you were successful. However, I suggest you return to your room now, M'lady."

"Yes, that was my intention. Good evening, Master Kenobi."

He bowed stiffly and walked past. As unhappy as the Council apparently was, Padmé had been prepared for Obi-Wan to despise her, but she felt a sadness as she watched him go. She felt that she had lost the promise of a valuable friend and gained, if not an enemy, then one more person to whom she must always play the civil and well-mannered Senator.

How much more would she have to sacrifice for this new love?

It didn't matter. She had no desire to go back now.


Star Wars is the property of George Lucas and Lucasfilm. I mean no infringement and make no profit. Please do not copy or republish Erin's work without her express written permission. Thank you!

Thursday, April 21, 2005

Star Wars-- Episode III: Oh, Snap

A/N: A little humor now. I wrote this senior year in about five minutes. It's about how Leia came to be adopted by Bail Organa. It was inspired by the fact that I feel so sorry for poor Bail, and that in the ROTJ novel Leia mentions an infant memory of hiding in a trunk. I don't know if they're going to use that at all in ROTS (probably not), but I came up with this, and I thought it was pretty good for having been written in five minutes. No spoilers (duh).

INT. Tantive IV. Imperial forces board; Bail Organa meets them. They begin to search the ship. One trooper opens a trunk.

BAIL: Oh, snap.
TROOPER 1: Look, sir. Baby.
BAIL: My word, how did that get in there?
TROOPER 2: Whose baby is this?
BAIL: Definitely not Padmé Amidala's, if that's what you're thinking. Everbody knows she never had a baby or two.
OFFICER: Do you know where this baby came from, Senator Organa?
BAIL: Uh... Yes, that's... mine.
OFFICER: Yours?
BAIL: Yes, sir, that's my baby. No sir, don't mean maybe. Sir.
OFFICER: Where did it come from?
BAIL: Well, you see, sir, when two consenting adults love each other very much...
OFFICER: But who is its mother?
BAIL: Well, as I was explaining to this man here, certainly not Senator Amidala, sir.
OFFICER: Of course not, but who is?
BAIL: Perhaps I killed a Jedi and took it from him.
OFFICER: ...
BAIL: Or I adopted it. Her. I adopted her.
OFFICER: I didn't know that you were interested in children, Senator.
BAIL: No sir, neither did I. But apparently, I am. Isn't it wonderful?
OFFICER: Very. But why was she inside of a trunk?
BAIL: She's a surprise, sir.
OFFICER: A... surprise?
BAIL: For the people of Alderaan!
(Bail takes Leia out of the trunk and holds her.)
OFFICER: I see. Well, congratulations.
BAIL: Thank you.
OFFICER: What is her name?
BAIL: Who? Oh, her. Right. Leia... uh, Organa, I guess. 'Cause it's not "Skywalker."
OFFICER: Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan. Well done.
BAIL: And if you're thinking that "Leia" is a Naboo name, well, you're crazy. Because it's not.
OFFICER: Very well, Senator. I congratulate you again. Move along, gentlemen. Absolutely nothing suspicious here.
(Bail looks down at little baby Leia as if to say, "Well... what now?" Leia looks happy because she does not have to go to Tatooine. Yet. But, sooner or later, everyone goes to Tatooine. Realizing this-- plus the fact that her mother is dead, her father's a Sith, her brother is gone, and she's faced with 18 years of this guy who, let's face it, is probably gay-- she begins to cry. Bail puts her back in the trunk and walks away.)
BAIL: The Force hates me.

Star Wars belongs to George Lucas and Lucasfilm. I mean no infringement and make no profit. Please do not copy or republish Erin's work without her express written permission. Thank you!

Monday, April 18, 2005

Grand Finale

A/N: This is a little vignette I wrote during "Once in a Lifetime" senior year. That was the first play I'd done with an actual character, and so I enjoyed getting inside the head of Miss May Daniels. The side effect of that was that she was in my head, too. This takes place, I imagine, as May is getting ready to leave Hollywood after George has made the wrong movie and Jerry has turned out to be an asshat. So, after the scene where George and I get fired and I do the thing with the clapboard, but before the train rant scene with Lawrence Vail. Marten might remember, though I doubt any of the rest of you will. Oh, well. I like this anyway. What the hell, for old time's sake: TWO THOUSAND AEROPLANES!

***

Who says we gave up the act, huh? This whole thing was an act, a brand-new comic-tragic spectacle brought to you by the Hyland-Daniels-Lewis team. Flawless. Our best yet, really. Never missed a beat.

Jerry sure played his part perfectly. God, he almost had me fooled. But the whole thing was never anything but an act, and I was always on. I knew the plan was just another act from the very beginning, I had that figured out. I didn’t know everything else was an act, too, for Jerry. Not at first. But I figured that out too, pretty damn quick. I’m pretty clever, you know, a bright girl. And I know how to put on a show. I know all about it.

The problem is, this is real life. It’s not a show, and you can’t turn up the lights and all come out and bow at the end. Or who knows? Maybe you can. So come on out, Jerry Hyland, and take a bow. Show’s over. You hear anybody cheering? Well, I’ll cheer for you. You’re the best goddamn showman in the business. And good luck to you.

Sorry I’m not game for it anymore. Consider this my grand finale, if you want. It just doesn’t seem like innocent fun to me anymore, I guess. See, you hurt me, Jerry. You really did. And I’d be crazy to stick around and let you know it.

So, see you around, Jerry. It’s been swell. Now it’s over. Goodbye.

Just… goodbye, okay, Jerry?



Once in a Lifetime belongs to George "S." Kaufman and Moss "Roxie" Hart. I mean no infringement and make no profit. Please do not copy or republish Erin's work without her express written permission. Thank you!

Thursday, April 14, 2005

When Esme Met Esme...

A/N: This is a little Discworld moment that I still may use in a larger story sometime, but I think it stands pretty well on its own. I'm working under a theory that after Carpe Jugulum, Granny pretty much stayed away from Lancre Castle for a while, for various reasons I may get into later. Princess Esmerelda Margaret Note Spelling of Lancre is about four years old here.

***

"Hallo Witch Lady." Granny Weatherwax looked down upon a small girl child, which said, "I've got a balloon."

Granny was about to say, "go away," but bit off the words before they left her mouth. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, she did something completely out of her character.

"Well." It sounded a bit stiff and awkward, but the one-word answer was quite a leap for Granny Weatherwax, who typically threatened to curse small children.

The little girl had wide blue eyes under a mass of curly blonde hair. She was holding a balloon on a string and giving Granny a look of serious regard. After a moment, she said, "'S pink."

"Well, now."

Granny shifted uncomfortably. She wasn't sure what else to say.

"I can tell you're a Witch Lady, b'cause of your hat."

"Yes."

"There's a duck outside."

"Oh?" Granny blinked. "Is there?"

The girl smiled. "I'm Esme."

"I know," Granny nodded. She was surprised to find herself returning the smile. "I am, too."

"What're you up to Esme?"

Granny jumped at the voice suddenly behind her. She turned on her heel to glare at Nanny Ogg.
"You ain't got no business asking what I'm up to, Gytha Ogg, and quit sneaking up on people! I tole you not to sneak up on people!"

Nanny leered. "I wasn't sneaking," she said. "And anyway, who says I was askin' you, Esme? I coulda been talking to the little princess Esme." She peered around Granny. "Cooee, dearie."

"Hallo, Other Witch Lady," the princess replied, and Nanny Ogg found herself thinking, Now that's interesting, I've known the girl her whole life and now it's me who's Other Witch Lady...

"Let me see now, I think I have a sweetie in my pocket here..."

"Gytha," Granny snapped. "Did you want something?"

"Well, now you mention it," the other witch said innocently, "there might've been something I was wanting to discuss with you."

Granny turned back to her namesake.

"Run off," she said.

Disclaimer: Discworld is the property of the great Terry Pratchett. I mean no infringement and make no profit. Please do not copy or republish Erin's work without her express written permission. Thank you!

Friday, April 08, 2005

Breathing

A/N: I wrote this literally right after "Fall," as a companion piece. This one I could feasibly have restructured to be... well... not inconsistent with spoilers, but I ultimately decided not to. So, again, no spoilers. I'm not sure I like this one as much as "Fall," but I do like the idea a lot. It comes from the Episode II trailer (viewable on the DVD) titled, coincidentally enough, "Breathing."

***

When he wakes up, his body worn away by the lava and replaced with machinery, he asks what happened to her. His new Master, in a voice coated with sadness and sympathy for the young man, answers that she was killed in the fighting. He saw it all, he says, but he could do nothing; she would not stop firing at the troops, and so they fired at her. The lie slips easily off the Emperor's tongue, and the apprentice believes it wholly. He sits in silence for a moment, unable even to display grief before his Master, who says that now, at least, nothing is holding him back. Finally he asks about the child-- was there any sign of its existence? Was anything found? Palpatine shakes his head.

"If a child was with her," he says with sorrow, "there is little hope that he survived the battle. All Rebel prisoners were aboard the transport that the Rebels themselves destroyed. Careless planning on their part." This, too, is a carefully constructed lie to lead the boy away from mistrust of his Master. He could never know the truth of that night-- that the Emperor, Palpatine, had killed his wife and would kill his child if he ever got the chance. If, in fact, the child even lived.

"But... if he was not with her..." Anakin persists, pleading, desperate for this one small thread of redemption. But Palpatine only shakes his head again.

"No child was with her on Alderaan. It is likely it never came to birth. Try not to dwell on it any longer. There is nothing you can do."

And this is the worst thing for Anakin Skywalker-- to lie helpless and do nothing. A hatred builds up in his mind, slowly as the kindling of a flame. He had hated the Jedi already; now he hates them more, and if any are found alive, they will not remain so for long. He hates the Rebels with an anger and a rage burning in his very veins. He hates Kenobi, his old Master, for making him less than a man, less than human. He will personally see to his death, however long it takes. He cannot give life, but he can take it, and they will pay. All of them.

Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. Darth Vader. He hates everyone and everything. He knows nothing else. He kills without mercy, without thought, without feeling. More machine than man.

But alone in his meditation chamber, or before he falls asleep at night, the images haunt him. They do not move much. They do not speak. Just images... He closes his eyes, takes a breath, and she's there. His love, his angel, looking just as she looked every day... but sad. Exhale, and she fades away. The next breath brings his old Master, or his mother, or a friend. The always have the same imploring look. The look that says, Why, Anakin? Why? Ani, please come back... please come home...

As the years go by, and the name Anakin Skywalker ceases to have any meaning to Vader, he sometimes can't remember who they are. Just faces from some other life, a long time ago. He looks at them as an outsider would. They are beautiful. Why are they so sad? Then he recalls that they had names. Mom. Obi-Wan. Padmé. The memories come back. He remembers that he killed them. Those he did not kill are dead because of him, those still living he has killed a thousand times in his mind. There is no difference. But the images keep coming, the terrified victims, the screaming... They come, they go, they come again, with every breath.

At times he wishes he could stop the breathing. The constant reminder of the horror he has become. Only fear keeps him from ending it. Fear, anger, hate suffering-- four walls closing him in, forever. Trapped. He can't escape. He cries out.

Then he awakens. The images fade, leaving him alone.

Alone with the darkness, and the silence, and his own mechanical breathing.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas and Lucasfilm. I mean no infringement and make no profit. Please do not copy or republish Erin's work without her express written permission. Thank you!

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

Fall

A/N: This is a Star Wars vignette I wrote junior year at LC. I remember this because I finished it in Hasty's class. It is about Padmé's death, but contains absolutely NO SPOILERS.

"Fall"

Troopers and droids surround her, and she draws her blaster, fighting fiercely, bravely. She knows, now, that she will be destroyed. If she has any choice at all, she will go down fighting. Then he approaches. The Emperor. Darth Sidious. Palpatine.

She meets his gaze. "It was you. All this time. I should have known."

He smiles a sinister smile. Then he asks about the child. There was never a child, she answers calmly, but he senses a flicker of fear. He calls her bluff, not even changing his tone. "You're lying, m'Lady."

"You think I am? There is no child." Just as if this was any other political debate in the Senate.

"The father, I'm sure, would be most eager to know. He might even find it useful... should I choose to inform him... Or perhaps the matter should simply be dealt with..."

"You don't dare!" All pretense of cordiality vanishes, a fire kindles in her eyes.

"Be careful with your words, m'Lady." His voice drips with malice. "I could kill you in seconds."

"Then do it." Her voice low, she stands straight and dignified in spite of her torn clothes and skin smudged with dirt, sweat, and blood. "Strike me down. You can kill Anakin Skywalker, and you can kill me. You already have. You killed us years ago. But you cannot kill hope. It's in a place you'll never reach."

"You don't know of what you speak." But the confidence and certainty of her tone strikes a spark of doubt in his iron-hard mind. And the doubt, that feeling he so rarely knows, begets a strange fear. A fear that she speaks the truth.

"Don't I? I'm not afraid to die. I'm not afraid of you." She is sincere, and he knows it. There is no fear in her eyes. "In the end, darkness never triumphs."

Her certainty causes fear to grip at his heart. And, as in the mind of every dark lord, fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering. She dares foretell his downfall?

"This is the end."

She does not flinch as he raises his hands, only closes her eyes.

Force lightning. It is the work of an instant. A brief scream of pain and she crumples, somehow gracefully, to the ground.

On Tatooine and Alderaan, Luke and Leia cry out.

Anakin Skywalker falters in the duel and is pushed by his former Master into a molten pool, from which he will emerge as Darth Vader, more machine than man.

And Emperor Palpatine, Darth Sidious, curses himself. He curses himself for letting it be quick, for not making her suffer. He curses himself because, although he has killed her, she has won.

It is not the end.

Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas and Lucasfilm. I mean no infringement and make no profit. Please do not copy or republish Erin's work without her express written permission. Thank you!

Tuesday, April 05, 2005

Introduction

At long last, I have started my story blog. The first thing I'm going to do is go through my old notebooks looking for things worth putting up here. Then, when I'm done with the third chapter of Surrender, I'll start posting that in pieces.
I'd really appreciate any feedback you all can give me, provided that it's constructive. That's pretty much the purpose of this: to suck you into reviewing my writing and, often, beta reading it for posting on fanfiction.net or what have you.
Get excited! Yay!

Please do not copy or republish Erin's work without her express written permission. Thank you!