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Title: 8
chopsticks (spacedoutwriter@hotmail.com)
Rating: PG
Characters: Vader and others

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or anything affiliated with it. It is owned by George Lucas. No infringement is intended and no profit is being made.

Spoilers: Anything is fair game. Besides, haven’t you seen all the movies yet?

Author’s Note: Okay, all of these are one-shots meant to be missing scenes, codas, etc. They’re all pseudo-drabbles (“Pseudo” in that I’m too verbose to make them only 100 words, so they’re over that, but well under 500 words.), and while, generally, drabbles aren’t my cup of tea, they can be kinda fun. So at least give them a chance.

Some of these ideas may or may not be expounded upon someday, so begging for more at this point won’t do anything other than irritate me. (I’m betting people won’t even read this, and then beg for more in the reviews. Sigh.)

As for the title and the summary, if you know your math, you’ll know that the number eight looks like the symbol for infinity, only upright. I tried to choose eight moments that affected everything. I hope that I succeeded, though I know there are several others that are very important as well. Maybe one day they’ll be written.

In case anyone cares, the chapter numbers are in Latin. Seemed fitting.

Concrit is beautiful, dear reader. So be nice and leave some.

Summary: Eight moments that stretch into infinity. Eight moments that determined the path of Anakin Skywalker’s life.

by: chopsticks

Before His Hallowed Breath


Something was very, very wrong.

The woman stared into the mirror. She stared and stared, looking for something. Something different. Something sick.

She was pale, yes, but that would pass, as it had every day for the last week. She felt he stomach turn over and the nausea took her over again. She covered her mouth and closed her eyes, focusing.

Something was very, very wrong.

The battering wave of nausea passed, and she opened her eyes once again. Sweat beads stood out on her forehead. She looked like she was dying, at least for the moment.

She knew, though, that later on she would become ravenous, her empty stomach demanding some of the oddest mixtures of food she could imagine.

Something was very, very wrong.

She had heard the other slaves talking. Talking of her being pregnant; speaking in whispers behind her back (though she was in earshot) that she was showing the signs.

She didn’t understand how she could be pregnant. It wasn’t possible. She had never been with a man. Her status as a slave prevented that, as it did many things.

She felt nausea pass over her again and placed a hand on her stomach, closing her eyes to her deathly image in the mirror.

Something was very, very wrong.

Somewhere Across Forever


The young boy looked out the door of Watto’s shop. He looked out the door to the miserable, gritty sand, and the twin suns reflecting brutally off it.

He hated this place.

Everything about it was coarse and rough. The rampant slavery, the sand, the cruelty, all of it was despicable. It was a side of the galaxy the rambling Senators in the Galactic Senate refused to acknowledge. He wished he could make them acknowledge it.

One day, he thought, I’ll get off of this world. I’ll become a Jedi Master, and the Senate will listen to me.

He’d only seen a Jedi once. He had wanted to be one ever since. Something about the life called to him. Something about it told him he’d be able to help his mother escape her perpetual bonds.

He’d do anything to remove the sad look from her eyes. And he knew, just knew, that as a Jedi he could achieve that. He wanted his mother to be happy.

And one day she will be.

Marked for Favor


The young man stared contemplatively out the window, watching but not watching the world swirl around him.

Chosen One.

He had heard it once again today. Master Kenobi (He could not yet bring himself to refer to his Master as Obi-Wan, even in his private thoughts.) had said it to him as an explanation for his rigorous training. The training that was far harsher than other Padawans’.

Chosen One.

The words echoed in his mind. They were daunting words. They were words that carried a large burden, a burden he was much too young to carry. Even he, with his cocky attitude (And he had every right to be cocky. He was far ahead of his counterparts, ahead by years, and his training had barely even truly begun.), could admit to this.

Chosen One.

He did not know if he could carry the burden. He did not know if he could hold the galaxy and all its expectations on his shoulders.

He could be a great man, but he didn’t think he could be the Chosen One.

The Greatest Fall (The Greatest Moment)


The young man looked over at her and felt a smile crawl upon his features. She noticed and smiled back. It was a soothing smile, one meant to calm not only his nerves but probably hers as well. They were on their way back to Naboo, where she was to stay until it was deemed safe. He was to stay with her, and his heart was overjoyed. She continued to smile at him.

She was absolutely beautiful.

“You’re beautiful,” he said reverently.

She blushed lightly. “You flatter me.” She knew she was lying, as did he.

“No, my love, I only speak the truth as I see it.” The rose color in her cheeks deepened.

Impulsively, he spoke what had been weighing heavily on his mind.

“Padmé. . .I think we should be married,” he said carefully, and at first the audible gasp from her was the only reaction.

“Anakin,” she said after collecting her wits once again, “You know we can’t.”

“Why not? We both know the risks, but if I had to remain apart from you or deny my feelings for you, I would die. Padmé, I can’t live without you.”

He knew the risks, he knew he’d be breaking the Jedi Code, he knew she would be shunned as a Senator and he as a Jedi if it was ever discovered, and yet he jumped. How could he not? She was perfect; she was flawless; she was his. And he was hers.

“But we’ll have to do it in secret! We’ll have to be married in secret and-”

“And we’ll be together,” he stated simply, cutting her off.

She said nothing more, simply looking out the window at the darkness of space.

Hours later, before they landed, he heard her whisper one quiet word.


The Burden of Atlas


“You seem troubled, Anakin.”

It was a familiar sentence, uttered by a familiar voice.

The man sighed. Troubled was not the word he would use to describe how he felt. He felt like he was slowly drowning, and there was no way to save himself. The constant knowledge that he was going to die was slowly eating away at him, driving him mad. The knowledge that first he must save the galaxy was even more voracious.

The fate of the galaxy rested on his shoulders, and it was so unbelievably heavy.

“You are concerned about your path again, my Padawan.”

“Yes, Master. I am always concerned about my path in this life.” He was one of the best Jedi Knights in existence, even exceeding the abilities of a few of the Masters, but the Clone Wars and the constant knowledge of being meant (chosen) for far greater things greatly sapped him of his strength.

That and he constantly missed her. There was an ache in his heart whenever he was away from Coruscant or Naboo that was slowly driving him mad. He needed her. He needed her strength and her love to continue on. He needed her undying faith in him, her undying love.

He needed her. He needed rest.

He was not getting it. It was all too much. His light was in endless Senate debates, while he was trying to figure out how to save the galaxy.

All too much.

The galaxy was heavy on his shoulders, and no relief was in sight.

The Fallen Light


The man felt the power coursing through his veins. He knew now what he was meant for. He was meant not to balance the Force, but to ultimately control it, utterly and completely. To control it and everything it affected, even life itself.

The lava flowed in front of him and all around him, shearing the rock and destroying everything in its path. It was powerful, like he was.

He could have everything he ever wanted. He could free the slaves on Tattooine, though his mother would not be among them (he feels a sting of pain in his heart); he could right the galaxy. He could control everything, even life itself.

He could save her.

Without her, he would die. He would be nothing, only an empty shell of a being. He knew this for a fact, though he had no proof. His mind flashed to the dreams (she was screaming and he screams with her), and his determination rose with his anger.

He. Will. Not. Lose. Her.

He had lost his mother already, and that was nearly unbearable. Nearly only because he had her. Without her, he would be lost.

Without her, he had no reason to live.

He would never lose her. She was his and she would not leave him. Together, they would be a great power. Together, they would right the galaxy. He would fulfill his duties as the Chosen One with her and their child at his side.

The galaxy seemed lighter on his shoulders.

The Ghost of Her (About Them)


The older man became lost in his thoughts inside the helmet.


He had yet another child. Another child he would never really know. Another child to remind him of her and everything they had stood for, together Another child to reawaken in him a part that he had long thought extinct, a part he thought had died with her.

Somehow, she lived on through them. He saw it in his son’s eyes.

Son. Daughter.

He had children. Children that were in the light, while he remained in the dark. Children that were so like her, yet so like him. (He can see it in Luke; he has seen it in Leia.)

They were him and her combined. They were love, kindness, joy, a lake house, a secret marriage, and undying love.

Somehow, they were already his everything. They would have been her everything.

He wondered if she watches them. He wondered if she watches him.

Luke met his eyes --what’s left of them, and he saw her staring back.

He felt the galaxy on his shoulders once again.

All These Things That I’ve Done


The dead man watched the celebrations, and his heart swelled with joy. He saw his children enjoying themselves, smiling gaily and enjoying the festivities. The Ewoks put on quite a celebration, and he felt a smile creep onto his face watching them.

The inevitable had happened: he was dead. He knew it would come one day, though somewhere in his heart of hearts he knew that he had died long ago, his body simply refusing to follow until now.

He had died when she had. He could feel her here now. She was all around him, merging with him. She forgave him. She had never been angry.

He looked to his former Master and best friend, and knew that the man (So, so much older in his appearance than Anakin last truly remembered him. The things Vader had seen were not Anakin’s memories, and he was glad for it.) could tell what he was thinking. The older man smiled.

All was forgiven. All of his transgressions, all of his hateful deeds in the name of the Emperor, everything was forgiven.

He was redeemed.

He had done his foreseen duty as the Chosen One. Saved by his son, he had balanced the Force and brought peace—true, utter, real peace—to the galaxy. He had saved them all, even himself.

He understood now that he could never have saved her. She had to die for him to sacrifice himself. They both had to die for the dissonance of the universe to be dissolved.

The Dark Side and the Light Side, working together within him.

He carried no burden. Everything was as it should be.


woe, discordia.
regret, discord.

discordia concors.
harmonious discord.


the end.

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