Thanks to everyone who reviewed! And sorry about not updating for so long . . . I actually finished this more than a week ago. smacks self on forehead My brain refuses to cooperate with me . . . :(    Anyway, enjoy!

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The Imperial Palace was designed in such a way that there sometimes seemed to be endless corridors. According to Ben, part of the reason for the design was so that secret passageways could be more easily built. So that was why we were able to enter the ballroom without actually using the main entrance.

The balcony was not large. It had enough to room to fit maybe six people, sitting comfortably. When we were last here, earlier in the day – that it was the same day amazed me, since it seemed an eternity had passed – Ben had hidden the high powered laser rifle and messed up the opener of the doors, so they wouldn't open. Since it was just before the ball, Ben knew that the Imperials would decide to simply cordon off the small, frequently unused balcony.

So much of our plan was guesses, depending on assumptions. Until that moment, I had not clearly realized that and now it frightened me. But I pushed away my fear, ignored it. I was strong, strong enough for this – I knew that now, had proven it to myself in the corridor with the guards. When I was weak, Ben was strong; when he was weak, I was strong.

We truly did need each other.

I watched him against the backdrop of the balcony. The balcony itself was decorated in dark, red tones. Very rich and luxurious colors, with plush seats. But it was Ben's profile that held my eyes, as we knelt unseen by the solid rail, peering over its edge. A tiny furrow had appeared between his brows as he knelt and unfolded a long object from a fabric that blended with the décor. He was calm, steady and determined. His hands moved with sureness and knowledge as he put the broken pieces of the rifle together.

It soon lay, complete and whole, on the floor. It was long, and to my inexperienced eye, appeared to be nothing more than a long metal tube with a scope and a trigger attached. It looked . . . harmless.  But it wasn't and I knew that.

It was a weapon, designed to kill. And that was what it would be used for.

Ben stared at it for long moments, his body crouching but relaxed, in a strange way. He held himself very still, his muscles completely unmoving. He hardly seemed to be breathing and his eyes had an alert light to them, eerie in the relatively dim illumination of the supposedly unoccupied balcony.

His head slowly turned to face mine, eyes serene. "Dela," he murmured, eyes flicking over my face, my eyes and my cheekbones, everything.

I looked back at him, feeling awkward in my dress. I was tense and frightened, wanting to curl up into a ball, but instead I reached out with my hand and lay it against right side of his face. His eyes fluttered and he leaned into the touch – just slightly.

It seemed unreal. Like I was floating through the events, time passing with me not quite sure how.

I was abruptly brought back to reality with Ben's next words. "There is no time for second thoughts, Dela. Not now."

I blinked rapidly and inhaled. "I know," I breathed out. My hands kneaded my dress and I nodded again, thoughts confused and fast.

"What are you thinking?"

Odd, that he wouldn't know my thoughts. But perhaps it was because I could hardly understand them myself. A thousand things flickered through my mind in that instant, thoughts of death and life, love and solitude. Of justice and revenge.

But there was nothing left but to act. "I love you," I said simply, trying to convey all that I felt in those words.  Don't, I wanted to say – but didn't. It was too late for words. Don't do this in hate, I thought. The fact was, I loved him too much to lose him to what was happening. To what we were doing.

"I don't feel hate," he whispered softly to me, placing a hand over mine, which caressed his face. He shifted his head slightly and kissed my palm, a dry and warm touch. He kept his eyes on mine, a reassuring gray. "I have you – how could I feel anything else?"

We should have left. We should have.

A voice, deep and oddly triumphant, floated over to us. He announced the Emperor's arrival, which could only mean that Palpatine was coming down the hall. Other voices were raised and there was the small thunder of clapping, in a false welcome. Wasn't all joy in this Empire false?

Ben's hand fell from my cheek as he became distracted and distant from me. He turned, alert and the tiny furrow once again appeared between his eyebrows. He grabbed the rifle and held it by his side, ready. His gaze found mine, for just a moment, and he spoke. "I love you," he whispered.

Then came the explosion. It literally rocked the ground, throwing me from my crouching position to my backside. I sat there on the carpeted floor, somewhat stunned, even though I had been anticipating it. Ben hardly wavered. He rose slightly, on the balls of his feet. He didn't look at me.

I could hear the shocked cries of the hundreds of people below. Surprised and vaguely angry. To me, from above, it was like hearing a thousand harsh whispers forming into one. I breathed deeply and my heart beat wildly. I didn't turn to look at what was happening – instead I looked at Ben, watching his every move. I watched him even as he watched those below, unable to tear my gaze away.

It was eloquent in every line of his face. A tensing at the explosion, then a relaxation, which meant events had followed the plan. His gaze was slightly distant, as it always was when he touched the Force. He cocked his head and fell forward to his knees, focus changing from distant to intense. Palpatine was present.

Unwillingly, I turned to look, peeking over the barrier that kept us hidden.

Below us was the ballroom floor. Beneath the crowds of people I could see the complex design on the floor. People, all human and richly dressed in deep, dark colors, scattered. They moved from place to place, aimless. Panic and fear was clear in the movement of their bodies, but some remained calm and unmoved.

And, of course, there was the section of the floor, across from the main entrance, that was raised higher. I could see the dark stone it was made of, and the elaborate throne seated upon it. On one side – my side, the left side – stood a dozen Royal Guards, armored in blood red and looking as dangerous as I knew they were. They formed an arrow, and in that arrow walked the Emperor.

Though I had seen him on the holonet many times, he didn't look the same as I had expected. He was old, his hair white and short and his frame bent, but in a strange way. His face was wrinkled, but not like that of simple aging, but that of decay. Like his very flesh was rotting. I could not see the color, but his eyes were menacing and had an air of triumph and arrogance.

Arrogance. He believed the assassination attempt to have failed, not knowing that it had only begun.

In the corner of my eye, I saw Ben raise the rifle. He shifted it to his shoulder, aimed and fired. I waited in nervous anticipation as Palpatine moved forward.

Despite common thought, Ben had told me, lasers of the type he was using were invisible. Nothing would be seen coming out of the rifle – which was why the scope was necessary. Not that I thought Ben needed it, particularly, not being a former Jedi the way he was, but we had wanted to be sure. It amazed me, in the panic of the moment, how calm and thorough we had been about the whole thing.

Of course, I saw it when it hit Palpatine. The menacing glare was replaced with shock as his eyes widened and his body fell back, a burnt spot appearing on his stately dark blue robes. Whatever powers he had possessed had not defended him in that moment of overconfidence. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. But before he even hit the ground, I knew Ben had fired again, because the Emperor's body jerked again, almost seeming to convulse.

The silence that was only in my mind was broken by the screams of those below, and my own wild thoughts.

To give them credit, the Royal Guard reacted immediately, firing into the crowd and the air, forming a protective barrier of shots, while at the same time checking the Emperor's condition. I just sat there and wondered – about life, about what would happen next – about everything.

"He's dying," Ben said simply, letting out a short breath, his body still motionless. He lowered the rifle and looked at me. His blue-gray eyes were wide with shock and strange, wild joy. "Dying," he whispered, his voice breaking. His hands, holding the rifle still, trembled just visibly.

I gripped him by the shoulders and kissed him. I kissed him hard, more out of a desire to feel that he was real, that it was happening, than any real desire. Sobs escaped my throat. Dying! Fierce joy ran through my veins, alighting my senses with fire.

I let him go fiercely and abruptly, mind still singing. One of his hands left the rifle and came to the back of my head, holding me. He gently kissed me again, and then released me. We both looked down, leaning forward to see better. My hands gripped the rail until they were white.

The guests had realized what was happening. They looked like wild animals in fancy dress from above, running who knew where. Some stood in shock and a few had fainted dead away. But most of all they stared and looked.

As did we.

From our position up above, we had a good look at what was happening, even with the solid wall of Royal Guards. Imperial Guards rushed into the ballroom from the main entrance and several smaller, side ones, as frantic and unorganized as the guests were. Some looked up high, helmets scanning. Ben and I held back slightly, hiding behind the barrier of the balcony, able to see without being seen.

Palpatine lay writhing on the ground, little flecks of something that looked like blue lightning coming out of him, appearing to escape his very body. His guards did not touch him. But he was still alive, though barely. The lightning increased slightly and I felt more than heard Ben's breath catch.

Then it faded, becoming weaker. Palpatine's face was grimaced in determination in those few moments, then I saw growing despair in those soulless eyes.

"He can't do it, he can't heal himself – he can't hold himself together," Ben babbled, staring, breath coming out in harsh pants. He understood what was happening, even if I didn't. I saw the flecks of lightning began to increase, like he could no longer hold it in.

I grabbed his wrist and yanked, rising to my feet. Heedless of the Guards below. He got up with me, an automatic motion. "Yes," he said, in answer to my frantic instinct. "Let's go."

And we ran down hallways and stairs, past those in shock and beyond those that came after us. 

But the last thing we saw as we did so was the crowd of guests preparing to rush the Royal Guards, faces lit with fierce joy. The Royal Guards braced themselves. Then those once loyal citizens rushed forward at the Royal Guards and the damned man they protected.

But we were safe. At last.

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 I wondered for a long time what happened to the failed Jedi initiate that we had seen being taken to Palpatine. I wondered if that was what it was like for Ben, being a toy for a deranged and evil man, and I was glad we had saved at least one person from that fate. Palpatine had hated all that were even loosely affiliated with the Jedi, it seemed. Ben hoped that he had managed to escape in the ensuing chaos of the Emperor's death. So did I.

We had barely made it out of the palace, with the dark lightning released at Palpatine's death chasing us, along with the guards who ran after us. We later learned that all of those inside of the ballroom had been killed at Palpatine's death. We had left just in time. Once out, though, getting to the spaceport where our ship was became much easier. Ben had set the ship on standby, the engines running. He had grabbed the controls and we had lifted off immediately, before the news of Palpatine's death had even broken.

That first night, free of our demons, we hadn't celebrated. We rejoiced at his death, but we didn't throw a party. His death was like a simple release – an exhalation of breath held far too long. We had gone to bed and held each other, too in shock to do anything else. Yet the presence of the other was comforting for each of us, and it was a thing we were not willing to let go.

The state of Empire was soon in disarray. Palpatine had declared no heir and now the Imperial Governors and various members of the Senate vied for control. A rebellion had already risen, given hope in death. I hoped they succeeded. Perhaps we would even watch, from afar.

Now we were on Alderaan. Six months had passed and I had cherished every moment. I had cherished holding Ben's hand before the official and saying yes – cherished finding our home. Beyond even the time before the deaths of my former husband and brother, I was at peace – and I shared that with my new husband. 

The breeze ruffled my dress and my hair, throwing it away from my body. I opened my arms to it and gazed out. Below me was the small village on Alderaan that we had chosen to live in, its white, adobe dwellings picturesque. I breathed in, just feeling. The emerald green grass was prickly but yielding beneath my bare feet, my simple tan dress soft against my skin.

The sun was setting. It created a beautiful array of colors, and it occurred to me that I had never consciously realized how many colors a sunset could have. Every shade of color, each a degree of different beauty. It was a wonderful sight, and I lifted my chin to see more of the sky, watching the colors fade and stretch.

Gentle hands touched my waist, and before I knew what was happening arms had encircled me, holding me tight. I leaned back against Ben's chest, closing my eyes, and let my arms fall to my sides. His rough cheek settled against my neck and I felt him kiss me. "Hello," he breathed.

"A warm welcome," I murmured softly, still gazing at the sunset.

His body vibrated against my mine with his laughter. "I would hope so," he replied softly, amusement clearly coloring his tone.

I smiled and sighed, truly content, as I had not been for so long. Ben's hands shifted from my waist to settle on my belly, still flat. I placed one hand upon where his rested, and the other lifted to the side of his face, holding him against me.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I know," I said softly. And I closed my eyes to listen to what I couldn't hear, but whose presence comforted me –my husband's heartbeat, and my child's, who still lay within me.

At Palpatine's death I had thought it was over, but I was wrong. It was just the beginning – the beginning of a new life.

THE END