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Title: The Beast Within Summary: Anakin awakens after his fateful fight with Obi-Wan and finds that much has changed. Just how did he become the fearful Darth Vader and why did Amidala leave him? Sequel to Beloved Monster. Disclaimer: Darth Vader (a.k.a. Anakin Skywalker), Chancellor Palpatine (AKA Darth Sidious), and various other familiar creatures belong to George Lucas, et al. Any new names belong to me. I don't intend to make any money off this and it is not necessarily canon for SW (just my interpretation of what might have happened, in addition to use of some ideas from other fanfic). I have not asked GL for permission to use his creations and have no intention of pawning them off as my own. Anakin awoke gasping, clearing the last of the bacta from his lungs with a strangled cough. Nightmarish images flitted across his mind. A blue lightsaber swung toward him, the cold burn of its blade biting into his weapon hand. Then his desperate jump away from the lip of the volcano into the caldera, clinging to a ledge not far above the bubbling magma until he lost consciousness. Anything had seemed better at the time than falling to his old master's attack. Fury fought with anguish as he remembered Obi-Wan's accusations. "You're too impatient, Anakin. Everything has come too easily for you. What takes others years to master you have done in months. Why can't you be satisfied to learn how to center yourself to perfect what you've learned?" Obi-Wan's stern look had triggered Anakin's outburst. "Why do you keep badgering me, Master? I was not at fault for Master Qui-Gon's death." You were too slow, remained unsaid. If it had been me things would have been different. "The Chancellor wants me to be his personal bodyguard. I don't care if you don't believe I'm ready. I am, and I'm taking the position." Obi-Wan had scowled at him, disapproval in every line of his body. "This reckless abandonment of your training will prove dangerous. The Council was right all those years ago." Pain had lanced through Anakin. He could never prove himself to his master. No matter how long ago, Anakin believed Obi-Wan still blamed him for Qui-Gon's fate. He had lost count of how many times he kept repeating to himself that his master merely missed Qui-Gon and felt guilty at being unable to save him. But when Anakin told Obi-Wan of Chancellor Palpatine's offer of employment, he sensed his former master's disappointment and tightly held anger. A rush of relief at the reaction flooded Anakin. Palpatine had revealed himself to Anakin as the last of the Sith and proposed Anakin become his apprentice. Torn between wanting more than he felt the Jedi offered and guilt at leaving the Order, Obi-Wan's contemptuous and disdainful manner decided Anakin. His Jedi Master had no right to treat him in such a way. Though the Council and his Master continued to deny him knighthood, Anakin felt more than ready for the trials. Lord Sidious was right. They will never recognize me. Only with the Sith will I find my rightful place. Anakin had told Obi-Wan as much, watching his former master's carefully controlled exterior crumble. He picked up memories from Obi-Wan's mind of the fateful duel between Darth Maul, Lord Sidious' first apprentice, and Master Qui-Gon. The image of Qui-Gon's demise at the hands of the Sith ignited Obi-Wan's pain and anger. His ferocious attack found even Anakin's remarkable strength, his power in the Force, and Jedi training ill-prepared. His taunt had pushed the Jedi Master past his ability to control his emotions, for the onslaught pushed them from the Naboo Jedi temple to the edge of the volcano where it perched. Adrenaline rushed through Anakin, who at first felt wounded surprise then anger. At this his new master's voice urged him to feed that anger to use it against his attacker. The rest, as they said, had become history. Anakin slumped back against the bed in exhaustion. He barely remembered how he had arrived in the med unit, the time filled with pain, rage, and a deep sense of betrayal. For the millionth time he wondered if things would have turned out differently if Qui-Gon had survived to train him as his Padawan. Ten years he had struggled to gain acceptance from Obi-Wan. Ten years he had felt he never would be good enough for his master or the Jedi. The end had begun when Padmé accepted Anakin as her husband/consort. Obi-Wan had nothing good to say of the union, insisting a Jedi had no time for a family, much less a wife who ruled a planet. Somehow Anakin sensed his master actually felt jealous of the relationship between his Padawan and the queen. Though he might never prove it, Anakin firmly believed it the reason for Obi-Wan's unspoken rejection. Other little differences continued to build and the only kindly ear the young Padawan found came from Chancellor Palpatine, who must have seen how distressed he was and offered to listen and help if possible. Anakin remembered how Palpatine came to him, encouraging him to stand up for himself against his master and the Jedi council. Yes, he recalled bitterly, once again they had looked askance at him. Once again they turned away from his needs. Especially Yoda. That truly hurt. The complete wall Qui-Gon's old master put between them seemed almost palpable whenever they met. Never again, Anakin vowed. He didn't have to listen to them any more. His marriage to Padmé had remained the only good thing in his life since the Jedi had cast him out. Now that she had also turned from him he had only Chancellor Palpatine Lord Sidious to aid him in his search for justice. There would be time for revenge, but first he must heal himself. Anakin took a deep breath, wincing at the pain of torn muscles and the burning of damaged airways. Though he no longer looked out from the liquid bacta, he realized he wore some sort of device to aid his breathing. Frustration at his helplessness threatened to overwhelm him. A deep, festering anger settled in his chest and pushed him to struggle from the bed. As he sat up, he found a pair of feminine hands firmly pressing him back to the mattress. "Where do you think you are you going?" A tall, slender woman dressed in healer's robes stood frowning down at him. "I must leave this place " he began, then realized he had no idea how long he had been unconscious. "What day is this?" "Hmmph. Three weeks from when you arrived. And you're still not ready to leave." She shook her head at his expression, then gave a lopsided smile. "Considering you were left for dead, you're doing quite well actually." As he continued to struggle to sit upright, she shook her head with a grimace and helped him to stand. He pulled the breathing device from his face and fought to breathe on his own. His knees felt made of water, but he forced himself to take a step, resenting the fact he relied on the much smaller woman's arm around his waist to remain standing. Slowly, he managed to take a step then another, until he found himself standing before an open doorway. Padmé stood there, watching him, tears pooling in her eyes. The healer muttered something under her breath, then spoke to the Queen. "Your Majesty, I didn't expect you so early." "I came to see my husband, Esmé. May I speak with him alone?" He felt the healer stiffen beside him and sought her mind. Ahhh, she felt proprietary of him wanted him for herself. Despite the pain it brought him, a smile tugged at his mouth. So, he might be maimed, but at least someone cared for him. Unlike his wife, who had abandoned him. Or so he had thought. He straightened away from the healer and deliberately walked toward Padmé. She didn't wait for him, but went to sit in one of the chairs, looking out over the landscape. The room's view opened onto the plain beneath the palace, the air heavy with moisture. Anakin managed to make it to the chair opposite her then sat clumsily, his innate gracefulness gone with his injuries. He grimaced, then watched his wife, wanting her to turn to him, wanting her to love him again. "But I do love you, Ani," she whispered, tears spilling from her eyes. She quickly swiped at them and turned to him. "Why, Ani? Why did you leave the Jedi? Was it our marriage? If so, I never wanted that." " Padmé wife it wasn't you. I couldn't take Obi-Wan's disregard. He didn't want us to marry he didn't want me to work for the Chancellor " Anakin paused, seeing Padmé flinch at Palpatine's name. "Not you, too. Why, Padmé? What do you have against him? He is from Naboo and has worked to bring order to the Republic." She looked away again and when she spoke her voice conveyed such sadness, such pain Anakin instinctively reached out to her. His hand dropped when she didn't return the gesture. "I know, Anakin. I've seen what he is I thought he wanted the best for us, but now I realize it was all pretense. He never intended for me to live. I was his target, but his tool failed him. Instead, Qui-Gon died and I survived. He didn't care if all of Naboo was destroyed as long as he gained what he wanted power. And I let him do it. I acted as his agent to depose a true friend Chancellor Valorum. I let him manipulate me into that vote of no confidence. Perhaps that's what hurts the most. And now he's taking you from me." Anakin bowed his head, amazed at the pain he felt from what she said. It didn't make any difference in the decision he had made. He would still follow his new master. Yet he had hoped Padmé would return to him. One last time he would try to make her see that what he wanted was best. "Beloved he only wishes for order for the chaos that threatens the galaxy to end. He wants justice and peace. I've tried it the Jedi way and found it wanting. Now I have a master who will see that the best for everyone is done. I've promised him I will be his eyes and ears his strong physical presence to enforce the laws of the Republic." And if you believe that, Ani, you are deluding yourself. He wants your talents, your strength to strangle freedom, not enforce any laws except his own. Padmé's thoughts reached him, her eyes filled with sorrow and reproach. Through his will, calling on the Force, Anakin rose and went to her. He knelt before her, taking her tiny cold hands in his own. Together they stared at their joined hands; his with the still pink skin around the wrist of the right hand Obi-Wan had taken where it joined with a cybernetic replacement. A painful reminder of yet another betrayal. "My heart I would never do anything to harm you. Surely you must know that." "Ani I know you mean well you don't know the beast within Palpatine's breast. He is greedy, Ani. And devious. Never in all the years I have known him did I realize what he was until now. He has revealed his plan to me he wants a child from you from me. A child he can exploit and mold into his tool." She took a shuddering breath and squeezed his hands for a moment. "I want your children, my love, but not for such a purpose. What kind of world do you think they will grow up in? I wish--" Anakin stopped her words with a kiss. A niggling sense she spoke the truth intruded and he didn't want to believe her. Somehow he must convince her she was wrong. That he hadn't thrown away everything he believed in. He hadn't saved his mother, he hadn't saved Qui-Gon he must save Padmé and help his master bring structure to the embroiled Republic worlds. If Anakin had any say the Rim Worlds would be a part of it, too. He hated slavery how well he remembered growing up a piece of property. She broke away with a sob. "Oh, Ani " "Hush, love. I'm not the man I was before, but I can still love you. Let me give you comfort and comfort me." He gathered her into his arms, relishing her body against his. At least he felt alive again, for however short a time they had together. Despite the injuries he sustained he would have this with her one last time before he joined his master. He rose, pulling strength from the Force, and picked her up. He quieted her protests he would hurt himself with a quick kiss, then lay her on the couch that sat against the wall. Pooling all his resources he used the Force to ease his breathing, soothe his aches and pains. He refused to let Obi-Wan's victory get in the way of making love to Padmé. She looked up at him with a crooked half smile, caressing the scarred flesh of his face with her soft hand. "No matter what, Ani, remember I love you. Even if you turn from me even if I must leave you I will always care for you." He pulled her close, feeling her hands against his back, stroking him, and holding him as she had their wedding night. It seemed a million years ago and desire nearly drowned him. Though she wasn't his first, he had been hers. Yet she had come to him so eagerly, wanting to join with him so full of passion and need. Now he needed her and she seemed to sense it. She held nothing back, kissing his poor wounded face as though it didn't matter how ugly it had become. Though he hadn't seen himself since the "accident" he knew how he must appear. But Padmé acted as though he was no different than before. He lay beside her and threw a leg over hers. The feel of her soft body nearly drove him to distraction, yet he clamped a tight hold on himself, using his body to excite her. Despite his own arousal, he kept the pace slow. He rubbed his erection against her hip while running one hand from her shoulder to her groin. His fingers returned to brush her breast, feeling the nipple press against his skin. Pushing aside her tunic, he bent to take the turgid flesh in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue, then gently biting it. She moaned, her hips straining toward him. His hand cupped her mound, feeling the heat rising from her core. A whimper escaped her and brought him close to foregoing his resolve to go slow. As he continued his ministrations he watched her face. Her eyes closed, her nostrils flared and a light sheen of perspiration beaded her brow and above her lips. "Please, Ani I want you," she murmured. "Yes I know soon soon," he reassured her, then continued his torture of them both. He took her hand and placed it on his erection to let her know how much he wanted her too. "But you must help me. I haven't the strength yet to do this properly. You must take the initiative. You must be the aggressor." "Anything, Ani just tell me what to do." He pushed his trousers down and lay back against the pillows. "Mount me," he ordered. Padmé parted her tunic and straddled his hips, rubbing her wet core against his shaft. His hips flexed against the soft nether lips, his arousal begging entry. She balanced herself with one hand on his chest as she reached down to find him and position the tip against her opening. Slowly she lowered herself, her petals parting to receive him. He bit back a groan and pressed up against her until he was completely inside. A look of pained concentration flitted across her face and he knew she was uncomfortable with his deep penetration. He forced himself to hold still until she could adjust to his size. She lay against him, her breasts pressed against his chest, and kissed his neck. Ever so slowly he began flexing his hips, in and out, feeling his erection slide against the smooth wet flesh of her core. Her inner muscles gripped him as she moved with him. Tiny moans escaped her and within minutes she sat up, her thighs pressing his hips as she began to rise and fall in increasing need. Anakin ground his teeth, pressing his fingers into the flesh of her waist as he fought back his own climax. Then, without warning, she cried out. She stiffened above him, her core pulsing around his shaft, beckoning seductively to join her orgasm. His belly tightened and he shook with effort as his body betrayed him. Exquisite pleasure washed over him as he erupted inside her. Still connected, Padmé collapsed on his chest. Drenched in perspiration, Anakin's exhaustion caught up with him. He had pushed himself to the limit of his strength. He did not regret it, yet he knew he must return to his bed and his breathing apparatus soon or he would never make it under his own power. "Padmé, you should go. Others will wonder where you are and I I must go back to that thing I need to survive." She didnt reply at first and what he believed sweat trickling on his chest proved to be her tears. He looked down at her, meeting only the crown of her head, her long dark brown hair spread against his pale skin. She still hugged him close, refusing to let him go. With a sigh, she pushed away and rose, letting him slide from her body. "Let me dress, Ani. Then I'll call Esmé. " "Call her now. I need to get back to the respirator." "But " "Call her I I don't know how much longer " He stopped, taking a rasping breath and struggling to rise. "Gods, Ani I never should have By the Force, this was foolish!" She pulled on her clothes, quickly straightened his and ran for the healer. She returned with Esmé and a portable respirator in moments. The room had grown dim to Anakin and the healer had to call for a gurney to transport him back to his bed. Grimly, Esmé saw him reinstalled in the unit, then turned to her queen. "Your Majesty, we must implant a respirator or he won't survive. We've done massive reconstruction of parts of his body. His right hand, his left hip and part of his left leg were shattered in the fall and replaced with cybernetic components. His lungs were severely damaged from the volcanic fumes and I fear he may require a super-rich oxygen atmosphere in order to live. Only extremely short times away from it will be practical." "Do what you must, Esmé. How soon can he leave?" Padmé's voice was that of Amidala's. Emotionless, businesslike. She had left him already. "Once we manufacture the respirator implant he should be stable enough to transfer. Where will he go?" "To his master to Palpatine. Send him to Coruscant." Farewell, beloved. I must never see you again. Her thoughts rang clear, yet left him with questions. Why? "As you wish, Your Majesty." Esmé turned to her workers and ordered them to begin. Padmé watched for a moment, then turned to leave. She stopped a few steps away and returned. Wordlessly, she took his hand his real hand and placed it on her face. "Remember me. Don't ever forget who you are, Ani. Don't let him turn you to the Dark Side." She bent close to him. "I love you. Always." Then she was gone a painful memory of what could have been. And he was alone scarred in body and in soul. They would pay. Every one of the Jedi would pay and justice would be done. He motioned to the healer. "I need to see " He gasped around the respirator. "Don't fight it, my Lord. Let the machine work for you. Breathe as you would normally. " Frustrated, Anakin grabbed her hand. "My face I have to see it." Esmé frowned. "I don't know if that's wise, my Lord." "Do it. Bring me a mirror," he ordered. She hesitated and he reached out with the Force to squeeze her slender neck. "Now or you'll feel more than that." The healer rubbed her neck, a frightened look on her face, and scurried away to find a mirror. Reluctantly, she handed it to him and stood back as he studied the wreck he had become. Gone was the face he had seen reflected for nineteen years. He had never believed himself vain, but now he had no reason to ever be proud of how he looked. Most of his hair had been burned from his scalp and pink scars covered most of it. His face bore jagged scars on the crown and left side and the respirator covered his lower jaw. A cold rage settled inside his chest. He would become Palpatine's most feared servant his fist of justice. No one would dare oppose him. He thrust the mirror back at Esmé and contemplated her earlier words. He needed an environmental suit. Fine he would design one that would add to his mystery and inspire fear and respect. "Make it black and the main part will be leather. I want a helmet and a cape not that pathetic thing the Jedi wear, but a proper cape." "My lord?" Esmé whispered her question, touching her neck as though she expected more of the same. "You heard me. Since I must be a prisoner of this thing I will make the most of it. Bring me some sketches I'll approve it. Until then, leave me alone. All I need is a data link. I need to study what's going on in the Republic." "Yes, Lord Anakin." "And from now on you will call me Lord Vader. Anakin died in that volcano."
To be continued
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