Title: Messages from the Grave

Author: VA-Parky

Characters: Darth Vader, Padmé Amidala

Genre: angst, angst and more angst; vignette

Timeframe: several weeks post-ROTS

Disclaimer: even though it's been awhile since I wrote a vignette, it's because I'm busy - not because I suddenly own Star Wars. Drat!

Summary: Vader is haunted by voices from the past.

Author's Note: Just a little vignette that I've been fiddling with for AGES and finally pounded into submission! I hope to post a few more viggies before I get started on my ROTS AU and the "Reality Series" fic-let. I haven't forgotten or abandoned the ideas – it's just been a crazy month.

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"Lord Vader?"

In the back of my mind, I am aware of the way the title hovers in the air, waiting for someone to claim it. Unfortunately, it takes several moments before that same part of my mind remembers that 'someone' is supposed to be me.

Clenching my jaw in aggravation, I silently curse my ears for their traitorous ways, for continuing to listen for the name of a man who no longer existed – and rightfully so. Anakin Skywalker had been the worst kind of weakling; one who carried remorse and regret, who sympathized and idealized. And in the end, he had been one who allowed his love and fear run rampant until they destroyed him.

Never again.

I finally turn, my gaze landing on the plain wooden box the clone trooper holds in his outstretched hands. The mild annoyance I had felt earlier blooms into white-hot anger. I am being disturbed for a delivery? Doesn't this bumbling bantha know who I am? Hasn't he heard the rumors of my power?

Or… perhaps the fool simply desires a personal demonstration.

I watch in mild amusement as one of the trooper's hands fly to his throat, the sudden movement causing the box to dangle precariously in his remaining hand. In a last-ditch attempt to salvage the contents, the trooper presses the container against his body – and reveals a symbol I hadn't thought I would ever see again.

I take a shaky step back, my distraction allowing the courier to regain his breath as well as his hold on the box. "I'm sorry if I have displeased you, my lord," he finally pants. "That was not my intention."

"Where did you get that?" I snap.

"We were given orders by the Emperor to intercept deliveries to the abandoned Jedi Temple, sir. This arrived yesterday evening addressed to a 'Knight Skywalker.' I was told to bring any such discoveries to you."

I reach out and the box flies into my hands. His task complete, the trooper inclines his head respectfully before gratefully fleeing the scene. He has scarcely rounded the corner before I find myself turning to the nearest lieutenant.

"I will now return to my quarters and deal with this personally."

The young man nods obediently, but his eyes betray his curiosity – a fact that does not go unnoticed.

This time my ears are prepared, dutifully recognizing the thud of the officer's body when it hits the wall. They also relay my generosity, for the impact does not result in his broken neck.

I wait for the lieutenant's frightened eyes to return to me. "Consider this a friendly warning. I'm certain you've heard the tale about the sand-cat that became a bit too... inquisitive? It would be a pity to see you suffer the same fate."

"Of course, Lord Vader," he stammers dazedly. "Forgive me."

"You may seek redemption by seeing that I am not disturbed." Spinning on my booted heel, I exit the room, the mysterious delivery tucked securely in the crook of my arm.

PRIVATE QUARTERS OF DARTH VADER

It takes longer than I would have liked to reach my quarters. My gait continues to be slow and unsteady, a temporary side effect of the suit that now supports my ruined body. The simple act of walking has become something that requires my full attention - the only way to prevent an embarrassing fall or stumble.

Unlike my predecessor, I, Darth Vader, have vowed never to show weakness.

I wait for the main door of my chambers to close before clawing my way out of my mask and body armor, not willing to waste any time summoning med droids. The oxygen-rich air hits me as hard as it always does and I gasp raggedly while my lungs begin the agonizing transition. But I pay it no mind – all that matters is the carving within the surface of the plain wooden box that rests before me.

It is her seal.

Once the debilitating pain subsides, I unclasp the latch and remove the heavy lid. The mechanic within me identifies the inner workings as some sort of holo-projector. But for what purpose? I nervously flip a few switches, not knowing what I will find, or even what I want to find.

But all of my reservations disappear at the sight of her.

She wears a crimson gown cleverly styled to detract from her rounded midsection. Chestnut brown curls are twisted into a series of braids, each pinned perfectly into place. But what strikes me the most isn't the splendor of her gown or the ornate design of her hair… it is the color in her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes - the sheer life that surrounds her.

Quite different from the last transmission I had of her – from her funeral.

Her lips part and my chambers resonates with the soothing sound of her voice. The quality is so vivid, I know if I closed his eyes it would be as if she were there with me.

I leave my eyes open.

"Knight Skywalker, you have just left my apartment after graciously paying me a visit upon your heroic return to Coruscant. After speaking with you, I fear for our safety and the safety of the Republic itself. If you are watching this recording then your vision of my death has come to pass. I suppose such foresight would lead people to react in many different ways. And as you can see, it has brought me to the realization that I should record my final instructions."

The Force surges around me and her image flickers, nearly succumbing to my wave of grief.

"I cannot believe all that has transpired since our initial meeting on Tatooine. Under the watchful eye of Master Kenobi, you are now one of the finest Jedi the Galaxy has ever known. My heart is warmed by the thought of the Republic in such fine hands - a feeling I don't get to enjoy very often these dark days. The Senate may not always do the right thing but I know democracy is safe as long as you are standing beside your Jedi brethren as their Chosen One."

She straightens her shoulders, her manner growing formal.

"Now, please allow me to explain the official reason behind this recording. I would like to bequeath the use of my Naboo lakeside retreat to you, Anakin - and to any Jedi you feel may need a place to rest their war-weary bodies. My people owe you a great debt and this is one way to express my appreciation for all you have done for us. I trust you will find it a place of peace and will enjoy it as I have. Sio Bibble will be able to guide you through the formalities. I have already prepared the necessary paperwork."

She turns aside as Threepio enters the background and signals her discreetly. Nodding her acknowledgement, she sighs heavily.

"Unfortunately, I must go. However, I cannot terminate this recording without telling you that your friendship has been a most wondrous gift. I know your mother would be very proud of the man you have become. May the Force be with you, Anakin. Good-bye." She bows respectfully and the recording blinks off, leaving me alone once more.

"No," I moan. Desperation makes my voice thin and scratchy. "Please, no."

I crawl to the box and pull it into my lap, studying the series of numbers embedded within. My heart whispers an instruction, somehow knowing what needs to be done… but minutes pass by... hours... and still I remain motionless, certain the resulting discovery will burn hotter than the flames of Mustafar.

But as least I would see her again.

I manage to enter the code - the first time my new metallic fingers have found the grace to perform such a delicate task. Padmé and I had devised the long combination during the early days of the Clone Wars, using it to tack on messages to the end of Senatorial status reports. I hadn't thought I would ever need it again – and certainly not for this.

Anything but this.

The box whirrs and beeps before her image blinks to life. I notice immediately that she had changed her attire. She is now clad in an elaborate navy gown, her hair bound in a series of metallic clasps. Her abdomen appears more rounded, leading me to the conclusion that this had been filmed well after the previous recording.

She waves and then blushed at the simple gesture. "Ani, I'm very sorry for the formality of the previous recording, but I must ensure everything is handled discreetly if the Jedi Council decides to view my 'official' message to you. Besides, I know you will figure out how to get to this if it becomes necessary. That is why I have decided not to tell you that either recording even exists."

She tucks a tendril of hair behind her shoulder, and I see the stark fear in her gaze.

"If I told you about them, I'm sure you would get angry with me for being so pessimistic; or even worse - you would think I don't trust you to save me. Nothing could be further from the truth, my love. I need to make sure you know some things... just in case."

Exhaling a shaky sigh, she continues, "I used to really hate that phrase: 'just in case.' So many horrible things have been done in the name of conjecture, but that is the way of life, isn't it? People can't help but do things they swore they never would and you know what? I'm glad for that now because those same circumstances allowed me to meet you, to fall in love with you."

"Do you remember how I put it to you when you came with me to Naboo as my Jedi protector? I think it was something along the lines of 'I have more important things to do than fall in love.' Oh, how stupidly naïve of me!" She smiles ruefully and it is genuine. Exquisite. "How could I have ever considered love something unimportant? Just look at the gift it has brought us." She places a hand on her belly, absently patting the life beneath.

"I suppose I am rambling, but I am a politician and prone to that as you always say." Her voice grows thick and the tears she has been suppressing spill down her cheeks in earnest.

"I just... I don't want to say what I need to say because that will make this entire situation real. I will finally have to admit that this recording may be the last time I ever get the chance to talk to you, Anakin... to make things right for you. And I don't... I can't bear it. I want to fix what is happening so we can go back to Naboo and make a home just as we had always planned."

She swipes her fingertips under her eyes, obviously annoyed by the display of emotion. My hands twitch by my side, wanting nothing more than to smooth away the sadness... but I force them to remain still.

These tears have long since dried... and have been replaced by countless others.

She clears her throat and shakes her head dismissively. "As I have said myself - sometimes there are things no one can fix. And the simple fact remains that my death might be one of them. So I suppose I had better say what I need to while I have the opportunity."

A stab of agony rips through me and I want to scream as loudly as my ruined lungs would allow; anything - just as long as it blocks out what I am about to hear.

But nevertheless, I stay… silently listening...

Remembering.

"Ani, I love you and our baby so very much. I already feel like a mother and even though I haven't changed the first diaper, my desire to protect him - or her - overwhelms me. If it comes down to a choice between my life and the life of our child, I will choose the life of our child. Please understand the very thought of leaving you is unimaginable and I swear I will not go willingly. But as a mother, it is my duty to see to the safety of our child and it is a sacred responsibility that I cannot and will not lay down no matter the consequence."

My throat constricts in shame.

"I do not know how my death will affect your level of involvement as a father. It is my greatest wish to have you looking over our child, but I understand if you feel you cannot leave the Jedi during these uncertain times. If that is the case, all I ask is that you take our baby to my parents. They will raise him, or her, with all the love and affection we would have bestowed. You will be able to visit whenever you can get away, and with the Lake House in your possession, that should help disperse any suspicion. You can pass along stories about me and tell our baby how much we loved each other and how desperately we wanted to be a family-"

Suddenly, Threepio's voice echoes from somewhere off-screen. "Mistress Padmé, please pardon the interruption but a Jedi fighter is approaching the veranda."

I watch her turn away, graceful movements slowed by the additional weight of our child. "Anakin is here? He's back already?" Her words crash together, overrun by hope and relief.

"No, I believe it is Master Kenobi."

She bites her lower lip in disappointment. "Very well, please greet him on my behalf; I will be there momentarily."

I can hear the droid toddling off and wonder what became of him. Had he been with her at the end? Somehow I know the answer is yes. I had been the only one missing.

"Oh, Anakin, I must go," she moans regretfully. "As you just heard from Threepio, Master Kenobi has arrived and I must see what I can do to help him. I know you said the Jedi turned on the Republic, but I just can't believe Obi-wan would do such a thing. I'm certain he is on our side, or will be when he hears what you told me. Perhaps there is a chance we can sort this all out."

She leans forward, taking no chance that her final words will be overheard. I want to cry out in protest; Darth Vader does not deserve such an honor.

And the man who does is not allowed to resurface.

Although we are suspended in different times, our eyes meet and lock; brown piercing a yellow that is fading to a long-lost blue.

"No matter what happens next, I will always be with you. We will meet again in that extraordinary Force you so bravely serve. I hope you will take comfort in the knowledge that you shall always have a loving wife that will wait for you... no matter how long it takes, no matter what happens. Until that day arrives, I bid you farewell. I love you, Ani, so very much."

She smiles softly before leaning forward to switch off the recording. Her image shimmers once, twice... and then vanishes into the depths of the box, leaving me alone once more.

And I find I am furious.

"Why did you do this to me?" I roar, bashing a wall with my clenched fist. "Did you think I wouldn't suffer enough knowing I let you die? Knowing that your death was caused by my hand? How could you leave me with nothing more than a few bland sentences? Although... given your precious livelihood that shouldn't come as a surprise-"

"...he is in danger."

I whirl around, startled by the well-known sound of that cultured accent. The darkness gathers around me in a frantic storm of fury, glad to find another victim.

"Show yourself, Kenobi!" I scream. "Come out and face me!"

I wait impatiently, hungering for the response... and one finally comes, but it is not from Obi-wan.

It comes from Padmé.

"From the Sith?"

I stumble towards her voice, blindly tripping over the holo-projector in my desperate search. My head snaps back and forth even while my senses scan the Force for intruders. Both attempts come back with the same result: nothing.

Numb and confused, I slump against the wall and glare at the object that has caused the resurgence of such pain, so much so that I was hearing things-

Suddenly, the pieces fall into place.

In her haste to greet Obi-wan, Padmé had forgotten to disconnect the audio feed. Yes, it seems the Force has blessed me once again. Now I will finally have the truth behind my wife's duplicitous journey to Mustafar. And at last – the circumstances of her death will stop haunting me.

"Padmé, Anakin has turned to the Dark Side." Obi-wan pauses and I can imagine him running a hand over that cursed beard. "I have seen a security hologram of him...killing younglings."

The words ae eerily familiar and I flash back to another conversation, one I know will take place within hours of the one that is currently playing out before me:

"Obi-wan told me terrible things. He said you turned to the Dark side… that you killed younglings."

"Obi-wan is trying to turn you against me."

I sink to my knees, waiting for my former Master to reveal that I hadn't stopped at the children - Jedi Padawans, Knights and Masters had also fallen beneath my blade. I steel myself, knowing her condemnation would follow.

But Obi-wan never elaborates.

Why? Suspicions flare to life and I reach a trembling hand towards the shut-down feature, hoping to stop the terrible possibility that is worming its way into my brain.

But the tremor in my wife's normally-composed voice stops me cold.

"Not Anakin! He wouldn't... He couldn't." I silently finish her thought: because he is about to become a father himself.

"Padmé, I must find him."

"You plan to kill him." The stark horror in her words shatters my remaining defenses. My heart seizes violently, uncertainty and guilt casting aside the burning hatred.

"He has become a very grave threat."

"No. I won't help you kill him. I can't."

There is a rustling of fabric as Obi-wan prepares to leave - but not before stating what he had surely long suspected. "Anakin is the father, isn't he?"

Her answering silence is deafening... loyal.

And in the midst of that lengthy silence, the Force finally whispers the truth I have sought since that fateful day:

You were not the one who was betrayed, my son...

You were the betrayer.

My head swims with darkness, but before I succumb I hear Anakin Skywalker's voice ring out alongside his former Master's:

"I'm so sorry."

-FIN-