Over the Edge: Sequel to The Deep End

Chapter 1
By aznJEDI13

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns all, no doubt about that. This story belongs to me.

Note: I've finally decided on a time frame. We last saw our beloved couple when Anakin was 18 and Amidala was 23, almost 24. Now, three years later, our heroes meet again. Fate has brought them together once more. It is suggested that you read the "The Deep End" first.


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'…'Cause if the face inside can't see the light, I know I'll have to walk alone…'

Heavy hearts for heavy times.

Footsteps walked on. Sullen, sad steps walking to a silent unnamed rhythm. People pushed pass him. Rushing around, hurrying to and fro. However, he was not in a hurry. He had no need to rush. He did not want to rush.

It was not that he was scared.

He just did not want to see him. He was tired of trying and trying. He wanted him out of his life. But of course, not matter how much he wanted him out of his life; he kept coming back into his life.

He was not angry either. How could you hate someone you love?

Pulling off his navy cap, he ran his hand through his short-cropped hair, its golden curls glistening in the fair sun. Light blue-sky surrounds him bringing his cerulean blue eyes to their depths and making them glow majestically. Eyes, familiar and distinctive, stand out amongst the agonistic and placid crowd. Bringing cap back onto his head then pulls it almost over his eyes.

Adjusts his dark trench coat. Shoulders hunched ventures into the building. Slow and steady. Turns a corner, nods to an orderly. Came to the window sucked in a deep breath.

If words could express the grotesque sight -- they would. Yet there were no words that could.

Twisted. Maimed. Broken. There he lay.

Callous. Dark. Disfigured. There he lay.

The only sound, the hallow pneumatics. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Closed his eyes. Hoping it was a dream -- only to hear the steady and hypnotic sound.

Inhale. Exhale.

Glancing at the being. Scars, bruises, cuts littered skull, skin, body. Wires laced up and down, orange, red, yellow, black -- all knotted together. Hands cold, legs cold, chest cold -- all machine, all part of a man.

A steady beat warms eardrums. Beep. Beep. Beep. Of a machine, machine keeping that man alive.

Heaved a heavy sigh, slumping against the window. Hair and forehead brushing with the glass. Eyes closed tight. Single tear fell from closed eye. Running down cold glass.

Weeping, weeping loud and coarse -- heard through the long, narrow halls.

Master.

Sweet, Master.

To be continued…
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