Star Wars: Ashes and Hope
Jan. 6th, 2016 12:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
morgynleriI am going to have to have a proper title for the main story, because I don't generally name the main story and the AU the same thing. Have done (see Afanasiy, for Highlander), but usually don't. Still haven't finished getting all the parts properly linked here (DW or LJ), though they are linked properly on tumblr. Might do some of that tomorrow, since I have plans for what I'm doing today once I have this posted (I have to get through the end of the encounter of Mustafar for this AU, and do the same scene again for the nameless Vaderkin AU).
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Padmé is still spilling worry into the Force when he returns to the cockpit, her gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance. Not really watching the shifting streaks of hyperspace, nor focused on anything inside the ship. Anakin frowns, hesitating a moment before he reaches out to touch her shoulder.
She startles, and he steadies her so she doesn't fall out of the chair. "I didn't hear you come back up."
"I noticed." He crouches, hoping that it puts her at ease a bit to not have him looming over her. "I forgot to ask where we're going, earlier. Master Windu thought it important enough to ask me to come back and ask you."
"Why not come ask himself?" Padmé has a small frown, and Anakin smiles at her, trying to keep her from worrying more.
"I was teaching them one of the ways I know to keep people from noticing me. He wanted time to practice, and to make sure Zett could manage it on his own." Anakin reaches out a hand, though he hesitates at touching Padmé until she rolls her eyes, taking his hand in hers. "He did very well for his first try, and Zett isn't doing badly, either."
"That's good." Padmé rubs her thumb across the back of his hand, staring at it for a long moment. "My Anakin lost his right arm to Dooku, during the very beginning of the war. How did you keep it?"
"The war began while I was with Obi-Wan and Maul on Belkadan, and by the time we left, the Republic had fallen and the Empire risen from its ashes. Dooku and the Confederacy are the only safe haven the Jedi have at home." Anakin squeezes Padmé's fingers gently.
Shivering, Padmé returns the squeeze, holding on tightly for a long moment. "A lot of Jedi died fighting Dooku here."
"War isn't kind to the Jedi, here or there." Anakin holds out his other hand, and Padmé takes it with a small smile. "It's not kind to anyone, be they Senetors or Commanders, or just rank-and-file soldiers and droids. It hasn't made you less beautiful anywhere you are, though."
Padmé smiles again, though it seems more gently flattered than the amused he had been going for. "You're very kind."
Anakin shrugs. "Perhaps." He pauses, giving both of Padmé's hands a gentle squeeze. "Where are we going, Padmé?"
She looks down for a long moment before meeting his gaze again. "Chancellor Palpatine sent Anakin to find the Separatist leaders on Mustafar."
"That little moon? It's a bit young to put any sort of government building." Anakin frowns. "How deeply did Sidious have his hooks in Dooku?"
"I don't know." Padmé closes her eyes, her smile fading back into the worry from before. "He can't have his hooks so deeply into my Anakin that I can't bring him back. Can he?"
Anakin lets out a little huff of laughter. "I don't know." He's afraid it's likely, but he can't take that hope away from Padmé. It's the best chance she has of doing what she wants. "I hope you can sway him back, or at least away from Sidious. The Dark Side isn't evil, but it's very easy to do evil when using it alone, and it takes a great deal of strength to keep your feet in it."
"Do you think he can?" Padmé opens her eyes, and Anakin almost can't keep up his own facade in the face of the desperate hope shining in them.
"Maybe. If he has something to hold onto." Anakin draws in a deep breath, tightening his grip on Padmé's hands a bit. "Don't let him go."
"I won't." Padmé smiles, tremulous and brief, but it's real, and that's enough. She pulls her hands from his grip, and Anakin lets her, watching as she turns back to the controls, checking their timing. "We still have hours before we're there. You should rest."
"So should you." Anakin pushes to his feet, and holds out one hand again. "I can watch the controls for now, and wake you when we're close. I'll rest then."
"Will you?" Padmé gives him a long look, and Anakin shrugs.
"Perhaps. And I might nap here, too. It wouldn't be the first time I've slept in a pilot's seat."
Padmé lets out a quiet sigh, shaking her head, but she takes his hand, letting him pull her up, and escort her to the lift. "Wake me when we're an hour out from Mustafar, Anakin. Promise me."
"I will. You've my word." Anakin keeps a smile on his face until Padmé's left, and turns away to take the empty pilot's seat. Something doesn't feel right, and he doesn't know what.
"Are you planning to rest while here?" Threepio turns to look at him, though the droid had been politely ignoring him before. It's nice to know the droid he'd made for his mother still existed in at least one universe.
"Perhaps. I don't know that I'll sleep at all." Anakin doesn't know how much rest he actually got when they were hiding, though it had been enough to keep him going. A few hours, at least. Another nap might do him good, but he's on edge. The strange eddy in the Force earlier, perhaps, and the worries about what they'll find when they arrive on Mustafar. "If I do, don't let me oversleep."
"Of course." Threepio turns his attention back to the controls, paying attention to the autopilot more than to Anakin.
Taking a deep breath, Anakin closes his eyes, reaching out to the Force, and letting himself be tugged along the currents. Maul had always frowned at this part of his training, with Obi-Wan encouraging him to listen to what the Force could tell him about potential futures. Not just the immediate future, the outcome of a battle, but beyond that, to fates of planets and outcomes of wars. Potentials, and often more than one, but still there to be seen.
Reds and oranges glow against midnight black, and he can see flashes of blue and blue-white coming closer. Two men, locked in combat on the tiny surface of some sort of repulsor sled, with matching blue lightsabers. One leaps from the sled onto the bank he stands on, panting and exhausted, but still upright. It takes a moment to be clear who it is, Obi-Wan somehow harder and colder than Anakin remembers.
"It's over, Anakin!" Obi-Wan is entirely focused on the black-clad man still on the sled. It's almost easier to reconize Anakin's own counterpart. Vader, the name comes from the Force. The name given to him by Sidious. "I have the high ground!"
He does, and Anakin wouldn't make that sort of foolish move. Let the sled pass on and live to fight another day. But there is hate burning in his counterpart's gaze, and fury too great to be controlled. "You underestimate my power!"
Anakin shakes his head, trying to shake free of the vision. It's a future he doesn't want to see. This isn't him, can't be him.
"Don't try it." Obi-Wan is shaking his head, and Anakin takes a step back, reaching for lightsabers that he doesn't have here.
Even a Force-assisted jump isn't enough to keep his counterpart from the reach of Obi-Wan's lightsaber, and Anakin reaches out, shouting negation as he watches Obi-Wan slice off first his counterpart's hand, then both legs. But that horror is eclipsed when Obi-Wan doesn't follow through, doesn't end the misery and pain that comes with those devestating injuries.
That he turns off his lightsaber, and stands there watching. Shouts words that Anakin can't hear over his own mental scrabbling for exit, for reality, not this mad vision. Walks away, as Anakin's counterpart burns. No. No, this can't be. This can not be.
"Anakin!"
The shout is more than one voice, and Anakin jolts from the vision, panting as if he's been running - or fighting - for hours. Padmé is standing just out of arm's reach, and Zett is watching him from only a little closer, confusion on their faces.
"I'm all right. I'm here." Anakin tries to calm his racing heart, running a hand through his hair to find it sweat-soaked. "How much longer to Mustafar?"
"Another two hours, Master Anakin." Zett takes a step closer, still visibly confused. "The droid - Threepio - asked the Senetor to come up because you were shouting in your sleep. Master Windu sent me up with her."
But didn't come himself, which means he either knew there was no danger, or assumed so. Anakin grimaces, not sure if he likes that or not.
"I wasn't sleeping." Anakin tries to get up, and falls back down into the seat with a soft grunt. "I was meditating."
Zett snorts, reaching out to grab his hand, though Anakin doesn't try to stand up again quite yet. "That didn't look like meditating."
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Padmé is still spilling worry into the Force when he returns to the cockpit, her gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance. Not really watching the shifting streaks of hyperspace, nor focused on anything inside the ship. Anakin frowns, hesitating a moment before he reaches out to touch her shoulder.
She startles, and he steadies her so she doesn't fall out of the chair. "I didn't hear you come back up."
"I noticed." He crouches, hoping that it puts her at ease a bit to not have him looming over her. "I forgot to ask where we're going, earlier. Master Windu thought it important enough to ask me to come back and ask you."
"Why not come ask himself?" Padmé has a small frown, and Anakin smiles at her, trying to keep her from worrying more.
"I was teaching them one of the ways I know to keep people from noticing me. He wanted time to practice, and to make sure Zett could manage it on his own." Anakin reaches out a hand, though he hesitates at touching Padmé until she rolls her eyes, taking his hand in hers. "He did very well for his first try, and Zett isn't doing badly, either."
"That's good." Padmé rubs her thumb across the back of his hand, staring at it for a long moment. "My Anakin lost his right arm to Dooku, during the very beginning of the war. How did you keep it?"
"The war began while I was with Obi-Wan and Maul on Belkadan, and by the time we left, the Republic had fallen and the Empire risen from its ashes. Dooku and the Confederacy are the only safe haven the Jedi have at home." Anakin squeezes Padmé's fingers gently.
Shivering, Padmé returns the squeeze, holding on tightly for a long moment. "A lot of Jedi died fighting Dooku here."
"War isn't kind to the Jedi, here or there." Anakin holds out his other hand, and Padmé takes it with a small smile. "It's not kind to anyone, be they Senetors or Commanders, or just rank-and-file soldiers and droids. It hasn't made you less beautiful anywhere you are, though."
Padmé smiles again, though it seems more gently flattered than the amused he had been going for. "You're very kind."
Anakin shrugs. "Perhaps." He pauses, giving both of Padmé's hands a gentle squeeze. "Where are we going, Padmé?"
She looks down for a long moment before meeting his gaze again. "Chancellor Palpatine sent Anakin to find the Separatist leaders on Mustafar."
"That little moon? It's a bit young to put any sort of government building." Anakin frowns. "How deeply did Sidious have his hooks in Dooku?"
"I don't know." Padmé closes her eyes, her smile fading back into the worry from before. "He can't have his hooks so deeply into my Anakin that I can't bring him back. Can he?"
Anakin lets out a little huff of laughter. "I don't know." He's afraid it's likely, but he can't take that hope away from Padmé. It's the best chance she has of doing what she wants. "I hope you can sway him back, or at least away from Sidious. The Dark Side isn't evil, but it's very easy to do evil when using it alone, and it takes a great deal of strength to keep your feet in it."
"Do you think he can?" Padmé opens her eyes, and Anakin almost can't keep up his own facade in the face of the desperate hope shining in them.
"Maybe. If he has something to hold onto." Anakin draws in a deep breath, tightening his grip on Padmé's hands a bit. "Don't let him go."
"I won't." Padmé smiles, tremulous and brief, but it's real, and that's enough. She pulls her hands from his grip, and Anakin lets her, watching as she turns back to the controls, checking their timing. "We still have hours before we're there. You should rest."
"So should you." Anakin pushes to his feet, and holds out one hand again. "I can watch the controls for now, and wake you when we're close. I'll rest then."
"Will you?" Padmé gives him a long look, and Anakin shrugs.
"Perhaps. And I might nap here, too. It wouldn't be the first time I've slept in a pilot's seat."
Padmé lets out a quiet sigh, shaking her head, but she takes his hand, letting him pull her up, and escort her to the lift. "Wake me when we're an hour out from Mustafar, Anakin. Promise me."
"I will. You've my word." Anakin keeps a smile on his face until Padmé's left, and turns away to take the empty pilot's seat. Something doesn't feel right, and he doesn't know what.
"Are you planning to rest while here?" Threepio turns to look at him, though the droid had been politely ignoring him before. It's nice to know the droid he'd made for his mother still existed in at least one universe.
"Perhaps. I don't know that I'll sleep at all." Anakin doesn't know how much rest he actually got when they were hiding, though it had been enough to keep him going. A few hours, at least. Another nap might do him good, but he's on edge. The strange eddy in the Force earlier, perhaps, and the worries about what they'll find when they arrive on Mustafar. "If I do, don't let me oversleep."
"Of course." Threepio turns his attention back to the controls, paying attention to the autopilot more than to Anakin.
Taking a deep breath, Anakin closes his eyes, reaching out to the Force, and letting himself be tugged along the currents. Maul had always frowned at this part of his training, with Obi-Wan encouraging him to listen to what the Force could tell him about potential futures. Not just the immediate future, the outcome of a battle, but beyond that, to fates of planets and outcomes of wars. Potentials, and often more than one, but still there to be seen.
Reds and oranges glow against midnight black, and he can see flashes of blue and blue-white coming closer. Two men, locked in combat on the tiny surface of some sort of repulsor sled, with matching blue lightsabers. One leaps from the sled onto the bank he stands on, panting and exhausted, but still upright. It takes a moment to be clear who it is, Obi-Wan somehow harder and colder than Anakin remembers.
"It's over, Anakin!" Obi-Wan is entirely focused on the black-clad man still on the sled. It's almost easier to reconize Anakin's own counterpart. Vader, the name comes from the Force. The name given to him by Sidious. "I have the high ground!"
He does, and Anakin wouldn't make that sort of foolish move. Let the sled pass on and live to fight another day. But there is hate burning in his counterpart's gaze, and fury too great to be controlled. "You underestimate my power!"
Anakin shakes his head, trying to shake free of the vision. It's a future he doesn't want to see. This isn't him, can't be him.
"Don't try it." Obi-Wan is shaking his head, and Anakin takes a step back, reaching for lightsabers that he doesn't have here.
Even a Force-assisted jump isn't enough to keep his counterpart from the reach of Obi-Wan's lightsaber, and Anakin reaches out, shouting negation as he watches Obi-Wan slice off first his counterpart's hand, then both legs. But that horror is eclipsed when Obi-Wan doesn't follow through, doesn't end the misery and pain that comes with those devestating injuries.
That he turns off his lightsaber, and stands there watching. Shouts words that Anakin can't hear over his own mental scrabbling for exit, for reality, not this mad vision. Walks away, as Anakin's counterpart burns. No. No, this can't be. This can not be.
"Anakin!"
The shout is more than one voice, and Anakin jolts from the vision, panting as if he's been running - or fighting - for hours. Padmé is standing just out of arm's reach, and Zett is watching him from only a little closer, confusion on their faces.
"I'm all right. I'm here." Anakin tries to calm his racing heart, running a hand through his hair to find it sweat-soaked. "How much longer to Mustafar?"
"Another two hours, Master Anakin." Zett takes a step closer, still visibly confused. "The droid - Threepio - asked the Senetor to come up because you were shouting in your sleep. Master Windu sent me up with her."
But didn't come himself, which means he either knew there was no danger, or assumed so. Anakin grimaces, not sure if he likes that or not.
"I wasn't sleeping." Anakin tries to get up, and falls back down into the seat with a soft grunt. "I was meditating."
Zett snorts, reaching out to grab his hand, though Anakin doesn't try to stand up again quite yet. "That didn't look like meditating."
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Date: 2016-01-06 08:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-01-06 08:27 pm (UTC)