Chapter Twenty: Escape
Dec. 20th, 2013 12:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
In which people's futures take another unexpected turn.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Notes: This was another favorite chapter of mine to write, especially the bit with Padme, Terminus and Vader in the Millennium Falcon. I just thought it was a lovely scene.
If there was anything that Padme had learned if only from her Jedi schooling, something that she knew more than anything, it was the fact that a Jedi’s life was sacrifice. At the very least, if it wasn’t “more than anything”, it was something that was one of the most important things that a Jedi could ever possibly learn. To not think of oneself, or one’s selfish attachments, but to think of the greater good, the Living Force, and how one could best humbly serve it. It had been something that she had tried to do, time and time again. She could not say how much she succeeded, but she liked to think that at the very least, she did, at least most of the time.
And dueling Terminus, her former master, there was something in the back of her mind that said that for how long she survived, she might not survive this duel.
No. She had to survive. If only for Mara and Ben’s sake. She had to keep fighting. No matter how hopeless the obstacles seemed. No matter how terrible it truly was. No matter what happened. She was already wavering even as she continued striking against Terminus, and Terminus seemed to have learned more skills since they had last fought, his powers doubled, but no matter what happened, she was stronger. She was giving him everything that she got. Every Force power that she had – because for all Terminus’ doubled power, there were still quite a few skills that he couldn’t use. Skills limited by the use of his armor. The armor – it seemed more of a prison for a living body than anything else. She could not picture anyone living in such agony, day by day. Because she could feel it. The mechanical parts of the armor, trying so hard if only to compensate for the damaged organs – and to think that she had done this, that it was her fault –
“Terminus…Obi-Wan – ’’
“You’re mistaken. That is not my name.” Terminus’ voice was perfectly calm. Too calm, Padme thought. Almost as if he was stating a fact about a distant planet when she was still a Padawan, curious and wide-eyed (“wide-eyed wonder child”, Sola had teasingly nicknamed her) about the galaxy and the wonders that it still contained. Back when they were still innocent, in a sense. He continued on now, his voice like the toll of a requiem. “That man died long ago on Sullust.”
“He’s not dead.” Padme knew full well that he was not going to listen. When her Master was especially certain about something, it was hard, at times, to get him to change his mind. And in this case… “He’s still in there. Fighting for justice. You just don’t realize that he’s there. But no matter what’s happened to you, no matter what anguish that I’ve caused you…he’s not gone.”
Terminus seemed still in that moment. If Padme didn’t know better, she would say that he was almost moved. At the very least, she could still feel it in the Force. And a flicker of light across the eyes of his mask – how strangely they seemed to almost mimic human eyes, Padme thought. The Emperor and his men had constructed that mask well. If one was to look closely at it, it seemed to be constructed out of childhood nightmares, and perhaps other nightmares. For eyes that weren’t human, mostly a facsimile – Terminus’ actual eyes were most likely damaged on Sullust. Again, no doubt by her own doing – they were almost painfully expressive without having to resort to the eye expressions of other beings.
“You are too filled with hope,” Terminus said. “You’ve always been.”
“Better to be too filled with hope than to have none.”
It was then that she heard it. Footsteps. Mara and the others, running towards Terminus, weapons drawn. Padme almost wanted to tell them to stop, to put down their weapons, but they weren’t listening in that moment. Because Han had drawn a grenade, and before Padme could so much as stop him, he threw it.
Blinding light seemed to all but pour across Padme’s vision, almost searing. She felt Terminus’ agony even as he was knocked back – agony that seemed to be pouring into her head almost as if she were experiencing it. As if she had been the one who had been hit. She turned towards Han in astonishment, before Han said, “We should get going.”
“I can’t just leave him,” Padme said.
“We really need to get back to the Falcon. We were going to get out of here, and that’s what we’re going to do.”
Padme supposed that he was right. More than right. She turned towards Terminus, walked towards him, before hoisting his arm over her shoulders.
Han stared at her in astonishment. “He’ll – ’’
“Han, I know,” Padme said, “But I’m not leaving a wounded opponent for dead.” I can’t. Not this time.
And as they headed towards the Falcon, Terminus’ arm hoisted over Padme’s shoulder, she knew full well that the trial ahead was going to be fraught with difficulties. More than fraught with difficulties, she thought. But no matter what happened, no matter how terrible things truly were, they were going to get through this. Because, plain and simply, that was what they did.
That and she doubted that she could all but leave Obi-Wan for dead again. She couldn’t.
It was then, even as she hooked Terminus up to the medical bay equipment, even as she heard the sound of Han telling everyone to strap in and Chewie to punch it, she could not help but feel almost frantic in that moment. The medical bay equipment wasn’t bad per se, but she didn’t know how sufficient it would be, truly. After all, whatever the Empire sealed Terminus in was no doubt incredibly complex. Just tell me what you need, Obi-Wan…
Terminus was no doubt dying. And if she didn’t act quickly…
Terminus seemed to be straining, almost as if fighting for the vocoder if only to obey him, as if fighting for his own voice to obey him. “Padme…”
“Just hold on,” Padme said. “What do you need?”
“I have suffered worse injuries. There is no need to heal me.”
Padme shook her head. “There isn’t any need to play tough with me,” she said. “Just...how severe is it?”
“I have merely been burned. Nothing that I haven’t survived before.”
Padme bit her lip. “Obi-Wan…I’m sorry.”
“For what happened now? That was the smuggler’s doing. Not yours.” Terminus sounded almost vaguely wondering even as he said, “He is quite a resourceful one. It’s no wonder that he survived this long, I think.”
Padme merely nodded. “He is. But I meant…what I did to you.”
“I told you to run, you ran. You only tried to save Sabe. Hardly a crime.”
“I know,” Padme said. “But even so…”
She placed a hand over his chest, reached through the Force if only to check for the extent of his injuries. He had been lying, of course. Things had simply, honestly, cracked – nothing life-threatening, but in need of healing nonetheless. She then reached through the Force, pouring whatever healing energy she could if only to save Terminus. Because by the gods themselves, she was not failing him again.
And as the healing energy poured from her, healing the wounds that Terminus had suffered if only from the explosive, there was something in Padme that wondered if this was part of something else. Part of them, truly, putting things right again. Or was Terminus right, and she really did have too much hope? Then again, even so, it was better to have too much hope than none at all. With no hope at all, one would truly go mad. At least one could survive on too much hope. One could endure. One could be saved. Without hope, one would suffer, one would wither, one would die. Padme had watched it all but claim Obi-Wan’s spirit, and the spirits of others who had fallen to the Dark Side. She could not suffer the same fate. Despair was of the Dark Side as much as anger, fear and aggression were. Perhaps moreso. Because to despair, to be driven to a point where it seemed as if there was no way out but to become the one thing you feared most, the monster you feared whether as a youngling or a soldier or as anyone else…
Padme turned as she felt Vader’s presence in the doorway. A slight smile, if a sad one, seemed to have come over his face. “Terminus is wrong,” he said, “You’re not too hopeful for your own good.” He became sadder now. “He’s gone so long without hope that I don’t think he really comprehends the idea.”
“I don’t think he ever truly believed in hope,” Padme said. “I know one thing he taught me, when I was a Padawan, was that hope was just as futile as despair.”
“Really?” Vader’s brows seemed to furrow. “But that doesn’t make any sense. At least hope’s a good source of fuel when you’re about to give up.”
“Yeah.” Hope, Padme thought, kept you going when nothing else really could.
Vader sat next to her in that moment. “In truth,” he said, “I never really thought that this would happen.”
“I can’t just leave him,” Padme said. “Not again.” She sighed. “It destroyed me doing it the first time. Doing it again…I would rather die millions of times than to just condemn him to death like that.”
Silence.
“I know.”
Vader reached over towards her, took her hand in that moment, gently squeezing it. There was something, Padme thought, that simply felt nice about it. Gentle, soft.
“I guess the question is,” Vader said, “Where do we go next?”
“Alderaan’s gone,” Padme said. “I think Yavin is our best bet.” She took a deep breath. “If the Empire thought that they would stop the Rebellion by destroying Alderaan, I think they gravely miscalculated.”
“All the better for us then,” Vader said.
Padme smiled if only in spite of herself. “Yeah,” she said. “All the better for freeing the galaxy.”
“I only can’t believe that this happened.” Vader rubbed his temples. “This shouldn’t have happened. No one in their right mind, no one with a common shred of human decency should have let this happen. No one should have stood by and let it happen. No one should have ordered this to happen. We were supposed to be better than this, Padme. Better than the Republic. But we didn’t.” A beat. “And Ventress is still back with the Empire. I promised her one time that we’d be able to at least live some semblance of a normal life.”
Even listening, Padme felt a sudden ache in her heart. Never say “we’ll live a normal life someday” ever. Or “we’ll be all right”. In truth, so many instances of that phrase had been crushed that it seemed all but impossible. And yet…
“We’re going to save her,” she said. “I promise.”
“I never doubted you for a second,” Vader said. And Padme could have sworn that looking at him, looking at the smile on his face – his face seemed to be all but lit like the sun itself.
It was then that the Millennium Falcon jerked into hyperspace. Even as the explosion of electric blue surrounded the Falcon, Padme knew that beyond Yavin, beyond destroying the Death Star (it had to be done. Just for the sake of other systems not suffering the same fate as Alderaan), she could not say what the future would bring.
But she knew that whatever happened, they would meet that destiny no matter what.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Notes: This was another favorite chapter of mine to write, especially the bit with Padme, Terminus and Vader in the Millennium Falcon. I just thought it was a lovely scene.
If there was anything that Padme had learned if only from her Jedi schooling, something that she knew more than anything, it was the fact that a Jedi’s life was sacrifice. At the very least, if it wasn’t “more than anything”, it was something that was one of the most important things that a Jedi could ever possibly learn. To not think of oneself, or one’s selfish attachments, but to think of the greater good, the Living Force, and how one could best humbly serve it. It had been something that she had tried to do, time and time again. She could not say how much she succeeded, but she liked to think that at the very least, she did, at least most of the time.
And dueling Terminus, her former master, there was something in the back of her mind that said that for how long she survived, she might not survive this duel.
No. She had to survive. If only for Mara and Ben’s sake. She had to keep fighting. No matter how hopeless the obstacles seemed. No matter how terrible it truly was. No matter what happened. She was already wavering even as she continued striking against Terminus, and Terminus seemed to have learned more skills since they had last fought, his powers doubled, but no matter what happened, she was stronger. She was giving him everything that she got. Every Force power that she had – because for all Terminus’ doubled power, there were still quite a few skills that he couldn’t use. Skills limited by the use of his armor. The armor – it seemed more of a prison for a living body than anything else. She could not picture anyone living in such agony, day by day. Because she could feel it. The mechanical parts of the armor, trying so hard if only to compensate for the damaged organs – and to think that she had done this, that it was her fault –
“Terminus…Obi-Wan – ’’
“You’re mistaken. That is not my name.” Terminus’ voice was perfectly calm. Too calm, Padme thought. Almost as if he was stating a fact about a distant planet when she was still a Padawan, curious and wide-eyed (“wide-eyed wonder child”, Sola had teasingly nicknamed her) about the galaxy and the wonders that it still contained. Back when they were still innocent, in a sense. He continued on now, his voice like the toll of a requiem. “That man died long ago on Sullust.”
“He’s not dead.” Padme knew full well that he was not going to listen. When her Master was especially certain about something, it was hard, at times, to get him to change his mind. And in this case… “He’s still in there. Fighting for justice. You just don’t realize that he’s there. But no matter what’s happened to you, no matter what anguish that I’ve caused you…he’s not gone.”
Terminus seemed still in that moment. If Padme didn’t know better, she would say that he was almost moved. At the very least, she could still feel it in the Force. And a flicker of light across the eyes of his mask – how strangely they seemed to almost mimic human eyes, Padme thought. The Emperor and his men had constructed that mask well. If one was to look closely at it, it seemed to be constructed out of childhood nightmares, and perhaps other nightmares. For eyes that weren’t human, mostly a facsimile – Terminus’ actual eyes were most likely damaged on Sullust. Again, no doubt by her own doing – they were almost painfully expressive without having to resort to the eye expressions of other beings.
“You are too filled with hope,” Terminus said. “You’ve always been.”
“Better to be too filled with hope than to have none.”
It was then that she heard it. Footsteps. Mara and the others, running towards Terminus, weapons drawn. Padme almost wanted to tell them to stop, to put down their weapons, but they weren’t listening in that moment. Because Han had drawn a grenade, and before Padme could so much as stop him, he threw it.
Blinding light seemed to all but pour across Padme’s vision, almost searing. She felt Terminus’ agony even as he was knocked back – agony that seemed to be pouring into her head almost as if she were experiencing it. As if she had been the one who had been hit. She turned towards Han in astonishment, before Han said, “We should get going.”
“I can’t just leave him,” Padme said.
“We really need to get back to the Falcon. We were going to get out of here, and that’s what we’re going to do.”
Padme supposed that he was right. More than right. She turned towards Terminus, walked towards him, before hoisting his arm over her shoulders.
Han stared at her in astonishment. “He’ll – ’’
“Han, I know,” Padme said, “But I’m not leaving a wounded opponent for dead.” I can’t. Not this time.
And as they headed towards the Falcon, Terminus’ arm hoisted over Padme’s shoulder, she knew full well that the trial ahead was going to be fraught with difficulties. More than fraught with difficulties, she thought. But no matter what happened, no matter how terrible things truly were, they were going to get through this. Because, plain and simply, that was what they did.
That and she doubted that she could all but leave Obi-Wan for dead again. She couldn’t.
It was then, even as she hooked Terminus up to the medical bay equipment, even as she heard the sound of Han telling everyone to strap in and Chewie to punch it, she could not help but feel almost frantic in that moment. The medical bay equipment wasn’t bad per se, but she didn’t know how sufficient it would be, truly. After all, whatever the Empire sealed Terminus in was no doubt incredibly complex. Just tell me what you need, Obi-Wan…
Terminus was no doubt dying. And if she didn’t act quickly…
Terminus seemed to be straining, almost as if fighting for the vocoder if only to obey him, as if fighting for his own voice to obey him. “Padme…”
“Just hold on,” Padme said. “What do you need?”
“I have suffered worse injuries. There is no need to heal me.”
Padme shook her head. “There isn’t any need to play tough with me,” she said. “Just...how severe is it?”
“I have merely been burned. Nothing that I haven’t survived before.”
Padme bit her lip. “Obi-Wan…I’m sorry.”
“For what happened now? That was the smuggler’s doing. Not yours.” Terminus sounded almost vaguely wondering even as he said, “He is quite a resourceful one. It’s no wonder that he survived this long, I think.”
Padme merely nodded. “He is. But I meant…what I did to you.”
“I told you to run, you ran. You only tried to save Sabe. Hardly a crime.”
“I know,” Padme said. “But even so…”
She placed a hand over his chest, reached through the Force if only to check for the extent of his injuries. He had been lying, of course. Things had simply, honestly, cracked – nothing life-threatening, but in need of healing nonetheless. She then reached through the Force, pouring whatever healing energy she could if only to save Terminus. Because by the gods themselves, she was not failing him again.
And as the healing energy poured from her, healing the wounds that Terminus had suffered if only from the explosive, there was something in Padme that wondered if this was part of something else. Part of them, truly, putting things right again. Or was Terminus right, and she really did have too much hope? Then again, even so, it was better to have too much hope than none at all. With no hope at all, one would truly go mad. At least one could survive on too much hope. One could endure. One could be saved. Without hope, one would suffer, one would wither, one would die. Padme had watched it all but claim Obi-Wan’s spirit, and the spirits of others who had fallen to the Dark Side. She could not suffer the same fate. Despair was of the Dark Side as much as anger, fear and aggression were. Perhaps moreso. Because to despair, to be driven to a point where it seemed as if there was no way out but to become the one thing you feared most, the monster you feared whether as a youngling or a soldier or as anyone else…
Padme turned as she felt Vader’s presence in the doorway. A slight smile, if a sad one, seemed to have come over his face. “Terminus is wrong,” he said, “You’re not too hopeful for your own good.” He became sadder now. “He’s gone so long without hope that I don’t think he really comprehends the idea.”
“I don’t think he ever truly believed in hope,” Padme said. “I know one thing he taught me, when I was a Padawan, was that hope was just as futile as despair.”
“Really?” Vader’s brows seemed to furrow. “But that doesn’t make any sense. At least hope’s a good source of fuel when you’re about to give up.”
“Yeah.” Hope, Padme thought, kept you going when nothing else really could.
Vader sat next to her in that moment. “In truth,” he said, “I never really thought that this would happen.”
“I can’t just leave him,” Padme said. “Not again.” She sighed. “It destroyed me doing it the first time. Doing it again…I would rather die millions of times than to just condemn him to death like that.”
Silence.
“I know.”
Vader reached over towards her, took her hand in that moment, gently squeezing it. There was something, Padme thought, that simply felt nice about it. Gentle, soft.
“I guess the question is,” Vader said, “Where do we go next?”
“Alderaan’s gone,” Padme said. “I think Yavin is our best bet.” She took a deep breath. “If the Empire thought that they would stop the Rebellion by destroying Alderaan, I think they gravely miscalculated.”
“All the better for us then,” Vader said.
Padme smiled if only in spite of herself. “Yeah,” she said. “All the better for freeing the galaxy.”
“I only can’t believe that this happened.” Vader rubbed his temples. “This shouldn’t have happened. No one in their right mind, no one with a common shred of human decency should have let this happen. No one should have stood by and let it happen. No one should have ordered this to happen. We were supposed to be better than this, Padme. Better than the Republic. But we didn’t.” A beat. “And Ventress is still back with the Empire. I promised her one time that we’d be able to at least live some semblance of a normal life.”
Even listening, Padme felt a sudden ache in her heart. Never say “we’ll live a normal life someday” ever. Or “we’ll be all right”. In truth, so many instances of that phrase had been crushed that it seemed all but impossible. And yet…
“We’re going to save her,” she said. “I promise.”
“I never doubted you for a second,” Vader said. And Padme could have sworn that looking at him, looking at the smile on his face – his face seemed to be all but lit like the sun itself.
It was then that the Millennium Falcon jerked into hyperspace. Even as the explosion of electric blue surrounded the Falcon, Padme knew that beyond Yavin, beyond destroying the Death Star (it had to be done. Just for the sake of other systems not suffering the same fate as Alderaan), she could not say what the future would bring.
But she knew that whatever happened, they would meet that destiny no matter what.
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