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Topic:
Faces in the Passageway (a strange Vader/Ami fic) Still in Progress, Believe it or Not;-)
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Meredith_B_Mallory
Registered:
Oct '01
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Date Posted:
10/29/01 1:30pm
Subject:
Faces in the Passageway (a strange Vader/Ami fic) Still in Progress, Believe it or Not;-)
- Date Edited:
1/21/04 2:12pm (11 edits total)
Edited By:
Meredith_B_Mallory
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Hello! Thank you for bothering to look at my little thread. Er... I'm not entirely sure what to say about this. This fic is Vader/Ami centric and takes place about seventeen years after the Skywalker Twins are born. My sources (ohhh ahhh) tell me that Luke and Leia are supposed to be eighteen in the first movie, so that puts this story JUST before a New Hope. This is AU, but in a canological way. @_@ Oish, maybe I ought to shut up-- I'm making myself dizzy. I do hope you enjoy this!
As a side note, this was originally posted on the 'Skywalking' mailing list under the title 'Hourglass'. Just the prologue, that is... ^^;
Legal Disclaimer: Do I look like I'm in charge? ... Didn't think so.
Personal Disclaimer: You mean you *don't* hear the voices? ^_~
"If you go forward, I will meet you there..."
- "Frozen Love" by Buckingham Nicks
-------------------------------------------
Faces in the Passageway
Prologue/?
by Meredith Bronwen Mallory
mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com
http://www.demando.net/
-------------------------------------------
"Ever thought about dying?" It was a strange question, asked by a voice strangled in the back of his throat, but Anakin was in a strange mood. He somehow felt it needed to be asked.
It was one of those days when such a question could be posed- the wind moved lazily, and the sun was not a single point of light but a sort of diffused illumination. Quiet rested over the small veranda where Anakin and his wife had ensconced themselves after lunch, comfortable that -- at least for today-- there were no obligations to fulfill, no appointments to attend. He smiled just a little as he turned from the work bench, interested in her reaction. Padme` was a woman who used her whole body for expression, and Anakin found it fascinating to watch.
"It's funny you ask that," her face was relaxed, smiling without actually doing so, but he saw curiosity in the shift of her posture.
"Oh?" he asked, absently placing his tools back in their proper order. From her place on the lounge nearby, Padme` nodded and held up the book she was reading.
"The Nubian Holy Text," Anakin read, laughing, "I sure know how to pick 'em, huh?"
"You do," her face sobered a bit, and she closed the book completely. "I have thought about death. A lot, actually," her voice was quiet, her eyes staring into his own, "What about you?"
"Not much, to tell the truth," he replied, resisting the urge to move from the bench to the lounge. From the corner of his mind, the Dark perked up and began its usual little whispers. Anakin flinched inwardly; and here he thought he was having a good day. "But recently-- I don't know. A young Padawan died in an accident the other day, and I suppose it affected me more than I realized."
His wife's face was genuinely sympathetic as she rested her chin in her hands, "I hadn't heard about it, Ani. I'm sorry."
He shook his head, "It was no one I knew, at least not that well. But it was a messy death, nothing I'd wish for anybody." For a brief moment, every line in Padme's body was unreadable, and he wondered in a panic if perhaps she *could* hear that natering little shadow in his mind. Could she know?
"What *do* the Jedi believe, anyway?" she asked, immediately setting his fears to rest. To Anakin, the relief was as tangible as the small breeze. Certainly, he didn't what her to know about the Dark, the shadows. He didn't want them anywhere *near* her.
"Mostly that, after you die, you become one with the living Force," the response was correct, rote and memorized. He heard it almost every day.
"And then?" Padme inquired innocently.
"What do you mean 'then'?" Even through his confusion, Anakin felt a curious warmth wind itself through him. Padme was resting herself against the arm of the lounge, brown eyes wide, mouth partly open, her attention completely focused on Anakin alone. He loved moments like these, when he felt he had her all to himself. For just a minute, the Dark quieted and the shadows scattered, only to come back together again.
"You become one with the living Force, and then what happens?"
His brow furrowed, "That's it, I guess."
"Wow," she said, considering. "There's something... I'm surprised the Jedi don't have a more defined belief."
"What do *you* believe?" he inquired, suddenly realizing that was the question he'd been meaning to ask the entire time. He wondered why it seemed so important now.
"You'll think it's strange," Padme's smile was small as she sat up, stretching. Silently, Anakin willed her to stay on the lounge. If she were to come over, hair down and lips parted, they might get distracted.
"No, really," he insisted, "I want to know." There was an overwhelming urge to understand this part of her, but it didn't particularly alert him. Early in their marriage he'd nearly driven her crazy with questions, wanting to know everything about her. And yet he found that the more he seemingly uncovered, the more uncharted territory rolled out before him, beckoning. Padme was a mystery; a loving, comfortable, familiar mystery.
"I think we come back," she stated simply. Her head tilted to the side, awaiting his reaction.
"Come back?" he managed.
"As someone new," her voice was excited, her hands moving to illustrate the point, "Of course, you don't remember what happened before, but that's the point."
"The point of what?"
"Coming back, of course."
"But..." he closed his eyes briefly, "Why come back at all?"
"So you can do it over again. Fix the mistakes you made before, make new ones, have different experiences," her eyes were closed as she leaned back against the lounge, and he realized that she really did believe what she was saying. "And... and maybe see people again."
"If I have to fix my mistakes, I think I'll be at this a while," he joked lightly, then allowed his voice to take on a serious note. "But how would you know if you don't remember?" he asked. His logical mind kicked in, wanting to examine the belief system as one would the engine of a podracer. To make sure it worked.
"Some people think little children remember, bits and pieces. My grandmother told me once about a girl she knew as a child. The girl insisted for the longest time that she was waiting for her Ara to come be with her."
"Her Ara?"
"Her husband," Padme clarified, "But most children forget by the time they hit seven or eight. At least, clearly- some people think even adults remember a little." Silence hovered between them, loose and comfortable like the barest touch. The Dark began its insane mouthings, but Anakin ignored it, focusing his attention on his tools. He felt Padme's eyes on him, but it was a while before he said anything. He almost thought she went back to her reading.
"Have you ever remembered anything?" he asked as soon as it occurred to him. He frowned the minute the words left his lips, shaking his head before looking up at his wife.
"Not really," she licked her lips, lightly, "At least not that I can recall now. Though, when I was little, I had a horrible fear of the harvest droids. I used to have this nightmare that I was an older woman and had gotten my hand caught in one. That might have been something," she shrugged, "then again, maybe not. Have you ever remembered anything?"
"No," he said with certainty, though he really had no memory either way. "Assuming there is such a thing, I think people *should* remember."
"Really?" her brown eyes held the barest note of sadness, "Would you want to remember all the times *you've* messed it up?"
"On second thought..." he laughed, throwing his hands up. "Why haven't we talked about this before?"
"I suppose after all the *other* trouble we went through to get married, it didn't really seem like an issue."
"I suppose not."
"Besides, I don't think we'd let a little thing like this get between us," her eyes held a slight naughty smile.
"Definitely not." He winked back at her, before turning back to his tool bench.
The conversation died painlessly, replaced by the slight hum of her presence and the sound of distant wind-chimes. Internally, Anakin turned her words over. The more he thought about it, the more the idea fascinated him, and the less he paid attention to his work on the small speeder engine stacked beside him. Slowly, the Dark began gnawing away at the happiness, as it always did. Sighing, Anakin turned his focus to combating its ever increasing monopoly on his mind, frustrated with his inability to keep control. Such infirmity in a Padawan was understandable, but a full grown Knight should not loose his grasp so completely. It frightened him more than he cared to admit, souring the brilliant Nubian afternoon. He swallowed hard, bitting his lip slightly as he dodged the Dark and tried to occupy his mind with other things. There was some question he still needed to ask, but he was unsure of how to word it.
"Would you wait for me?" again, it came out without a thought, but Anakin was suddenly grateful. He might not have asked it otherwise.
"Pardon?"
"If what you say is true-- would you come back for me, or wait for me?" His eyes swept over Padme's form, trying to read her response. He'd never questioned their love before, and he certainly wasn't doing so now, but this seemed of an entirely different order. At first he thought it might be a question of loyalty, but he realized it wasn't that either. His wife rose from the lounge, her hair and waist swaying ever so slightly before she slipped into his lap. It seemed to him that her smile, now wide and full, held all the mysteries in creation. Lightly, she brushed her hand across his brow, and he stared up at her silently.
"Of course I'd wait," her voice was low, the voice she used when swearing promises as Amidala. He understood that she took this just as seriously, indeed, more so. "I'd come back for you, if you took too long." Absurdly relieved, he held her loosely for the longest time, resting his head on her shoulder.
He forgot about the promise, of course. A lifetime passed and he became someone else without dying entirely. The fire, the pit on Sullust and the ultimate betrayal swept the peace of that Nubian afternoon away. He was a different man, a man who held only the smallest shards of what he'd been prior, and if he thought of Padme at all it was always in pieces. Broken moments.
He only remembered when he saw her die.
=============================================
WANTED: FEEBACK
dear or alive 
-----signature-----
Meredith Bronwen Mallory
Evil Mad Scientist / Darth Bronwen
Apprentice of Darth_Fruitcake
Proud Master of the wonderful and ever-glorious Msna
"That is not dead which can eternal lie, and after many strange eons even death may die."-- The Necromonicon
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DarkLady27
Registered:
Jul '00
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Date Posted:
10/29/01 2:09pm
Subject:
RE: Faces in the Passageway (a strange Vader/Ami fic-- please come on in!)
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 *faints* Another *gasp* AMI/VADER FIC???  JOY!! *coughs* Sorry there, I love Ami/Vader fics!  . Fantastic beginning there!
I hope more soon!  *adds it to bookmark* 
-----signature-----
"You may try and break me but I will not yield!".
"Everybody loves pidgeons."-- Charles Darwin
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DarkLady27
Registered:
Jul '00
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Date Posted:
10/29/01 4:18pm
Subject:
RE: Faces in the Passageway (a strange Vader/Ami fic-- please come on in!)
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Up!
-----signature-----
"You may try and break me but I will not yield!".
"Everybody loves pidgeons."-- Charles Darwin
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Meredith_B_Mallory
Registered:
Oct '01
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Date Posted:
10/30/01 3:50pm
Subject:
RE: Faces in the Passageway (a strange Vader/Ami fic-- please come on in!)
- Date Edited:
10/30/01 3:50pm (1 edits total)
Edited By:
Meredith_B_Mallory
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Hi, DarkLady27! <shakes DL27's hand> I'm so glad to find another Ami/Vader fan! Thanks for the feedback, and for uping the thread. I'll post more on Wednesday.
~Meredith
Ps. Any Ami/Vader fics you can reccommend?
-----signature-----
Meredith Bronwen Mallory
Evil Mad Scientist / Darth Bronwen
Apprentice of Darth_Fruitcake
Proud Master of the wonderful and ever-glorious Msna
"That is not dead which can eternal lie, and after many strange eons even death may die."-- The Necromonicon
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Ashamaphone
Registered:
Jan '01
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Date Posted:
10/30/01 3:55pm
Subject:
RE: Faces in the Passageway (a strange Vader/Ami fic-- please come on in!)
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YES more for tomorrow!! 
-----signature-----
There's only one thing to do - learn the language of the fleas, earn their trust, and breed with their women. And in time our differences will be forgotten.
--Peter Griffin
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Meredith_B_Mallory
Registered:
Oct '01
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Date Posted:
10/31/01 12:10pm
Subject:
RE: Faces in the Passageway (a strange Vader/Ami fic-- please come on in!) UPDATED 10/31/01
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Yay! I have two readers now! (Hi, Ashamaphone! ) Here's the next little bit... I do hope you enjoy!
Always remember: feedback is your friend.
Have a nice All Hallow's Eve,
~Meredith
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Faces in the Passageway 1/?
by Meredith Bronwen Mallory
mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com
http://www.demando.net/
-------------------------------------------
You need to keep running. Don't look back, don't think about where you've been or what you're running from, it doesn't matter. Just keep moving. Your destination is a vague thing- as long as the enemy isn't there, as long as He isn't there, it doesn't matter where you go.
But you're tried. You want to stop, because you're tried, because you're so out of breath it's all you can hear, and your legs feel as though they're made of glass. You're so cold, you've never been so cold in your life, but its a liquid thing and you feel it running along your body. It's snowing, white all around you, a white more pure than even the armor of your enemies (but don't think about that, don't think about that). Blindly you reach out, and your hands touch on the wall of a building. You lean against it to steady yourself, but it doesn't yield. There's nothing to sink into, no place to go. Why have you stopped running?! The bricks are ice to the touch, you can feel them through the heavy cloak and gown. You close your eyes, lean more of your weight against it anyway. Your breath steadies itself, as much as you allow it. This is nice, you think. All you want to do is rest here...
No, no, keep running! If you stop, you'll think, so please keep running. Please...
You don't run, you're just too tired. All you've ever done in your life is run-- everything else is a dream, unreal, something you made up to convince yourself you've got someplace to go. Maybe you should turn around, walk (yes, walk; slow, stately movement...) back, try to find Him. You can reason with Him, maybe. It's not too late. Maybe you don't have to give Him up, you can still...
Don't be an idiot! If it was just you, maybe you could do that, it'd only be your blood. But think of the children..
The children!
Now you are running again, not matter how much it hurts. You curse yourself, because the fear is real again. Fool! Your husband is dead. That thing they raised out of the grave is something else entirely. You have to forget they have anything to do with each other, so that your sweet babies can have just one little chance.... You place your hands against your small belly, even as you run. They aren't there anymore, you'll never see them again, but if you think about holding them you might just be able to keep running.
You hear a shot fired nearby. It echoes off the wall, so loud you stop and cover your ears. Now you're moving again, though, because you have to get back to the main streets. If you can just find a market place, or a crowd, you might be able to loose them.. at least the soldiers. You know He (can hear your heart beat) will be able to sense you. And maybe, just possibly, if you can muster enough to be tricky you can evade Him too. At least until its too late. Then it won't matter.
(Oh, God, you just want to die...)
Here, yes! There are people here, colorful birds seen through the blinding snow. But they're used to it, here on this world, and you're just passing through. The air around you feels heavy, like ice. Oh, how He must hate it here...
Shut up! Shut up! Don't think like that, you won't make it if you do.
You can slow your pace, just a little, now. The people around you gaze on you strangely, its like a dream (it is a dream) where everyone turns to look at you. You must look so pale- like a ghost, your lips like blood, eyes haunted.
And you are so very haunted.
Breathing is becoming difficult, again, your lips burn with the warm breath and then chill in the cold. You almost want to stop again..
But wait! See the Stormtroopers, who are no longer white in the presence of the snow. See them? They're talking to the people up ahead, asking if they've seen you. Someone shouts, points, you hear the sound of boots against the concrete. You're running again, but you've barely noticed, you've become so used to it. Go back the way you came, that's right, there must be *some* place to hide. There's a flash of black, up head and..
It's HIM!
You only saw it briefly, but its burned into your eyes. He is tall, black and nothing like (Ani, darling, what's happened to you?) your husband. Whirling, you turn the other way. You're cornered, and He's coming (oh God, oh God) slowly, purposefully, because He knows you have no place to go... You rush across the street, before you think about it. It's a headlong dive, and you're absolutely frightened out of your mind. The transports and speeders are coming right towards you, some of them veer but others just don't stop at all. But you must have enough momentum going, because you're on the other side. Don't stop now! You dart down a back alley, then down another. There are frozen people here, some dead and others only barely alive, clustered along the walls. A few of them raise their heads as you rush by, but you only see them vaguely. Another corner turned, and another. There's a row of buildings here, empty ones. If they were occupied, you wouldn't be able to bother at all because no one would let you in. No one lives here, though, it's empty just like you. You pull on the metal doors, briefly for each building, because you don't have much time. The clock is ticking, as they say.
Here! This door moves more than the others when you pull. You might be able to get in. You brace your feet against the pavement, pull with all you've got let. Listen? Do you hear that? Sounds like footsteps, like labored breathing... You're jerking at the handle, desperately now. The door suddenly gives, swings outward, and then inward as you try to balance your weight. You tumble inside the building, lay there for a moment. When you stop running, you find it's hard to start again. But you're laying here on the floor, and the door is still open! Moving your foot, you kick the metal door closed. There's a loud bang, and you're almost certain you've been heard. You tilt your face against the cold wood floor, see the staircase out of the corner of your eye. Now you move from the floor, slowly, like a broken doll. Once you're on your feet, its easier. Now you're climbing the stairs, two at a time, avoiding the ones that look like they might cave. Upstairs, now, just one big room. You wish there was a closet, or a wardrobe-- something to hide in-- but you're out of luck. Out of breath, out of luck, out of time. But look, someone stacked folding tables against the wall. They're at an angle, if you crawled behind them you might have enough room to hide. You have nothing else, so you get down on your knees and slip behind the tables. You move on all fours, and more than once you cut your hands on metal or broken wood. The blood is all over the place, and not just from your hands. The smell is sickening, almost sweet, and very overwhelming in the small place you've huddled in. For a long, long time you just sit and wait, because what the hell else can you do? You rock, just a little, like a small child afraid of the dark.
And the dark is coming...
You hear it again, faintly, but there is nothing else in the room to hear but your own breath, heart and things you don't want to. Footsteps now, moving around downstairs, but He'll get to the staircase soon enough.
You have to get out!
But where will you go?
Through the window, up onto the roof. It doesn't matter! You have to get out!
You don't have room to turn around behind the tables, so you just crawl forward. The heavy cloak and gown catch, tear, but you don't notice. The sounds are still down stairs, but how long, how long until they come up? You stand, and pain explodes in your left leg, like a sudden Nubian fireflower. Your leg is caught between the tables, and the sounds are coming to the steps now. You jerk on it, no matter how much it hurts, because you're an animal caught in a trap. Oh, where are your babies now?
Don't think, don't think.
You pull harder, and the tables give, crashing to the floor. Your leg is free, and though you hear only silence (and that breathing, don't forget that) downstairs you know its because He's paused. He knows you're upstairs now, He's certain. You move forward blindly, bump into something. There's another crash, and now another sound, because whatever you've knocked down has fallen to the floor and caught fire. The color is so vibrant, the flames and warmth so strange that you just *stare* at it a moment. The wooden floor is dry, the fire spreads like a wild, hungry thing. You're surrounded now,and so very afraid. You hate the fire, the smoke is brushing against your face and catching in your lungs. Coughing wretchedly, you know you can't breathe, and even though you try to run you only make it a few steps before you fall back against the tables. You're so busy coughing and straining for air that it's only now you notice He's reached the top of the steps. He's so black and terrible, and look how the fire reflects off His mask, and where is your Ani underneath all of that? You just look at Him, you can do nothing else. You're stuck on your shrinking island in the middle of the fire, and the heat is so overwhelming you think you might be sick. How can He manage to look horrified, when He has no face to show you?
The fire is hate, you realize. The cold was so much better because it only wanted to solidify you, not eat you alive. He's still moving towards you, trying to make it through the fire. Will He go even this far, just to drag you back to His Emperor?
(And where has you faith in Him gone?)
Into the fire, with everything else!
Oh, you're terrified- the fire is nipping at your gown, eating away at your cloak. He's coming closer too, but not quickly enough. There are no words to say what you feel now. The walls are on fire, everything burns, except that which was once your Ani. You can't help it now. You reach out to Him with your arms (Luke, Leia, I'm sorry but I just can't...). In His mask, you see your reflection, which looks pathetically frightened, like a child. Through the pain, you realize you're being burned alive, that the fire has finally gotten to you. Now you know what He must have felt like. Why is he still coming for you? Isn't He afraid of the fire?
"Ani, help me..." your voice is broken, sounds so strange. He's almost to you, He's reaching out to you too, but it's just way too late...
You can't breathe.
I can't breathe.
'You' and 'I' are the same thing, and neither of us can breathe and we're going to die...
WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!
-----signature-----
Meredith Bronwen Mallory
Evil Mad Scientist / Darth Bronwen
Apprentice of Darth_Fruitcake
Proud Master of the wonderful and ever-glorious Msna
"That is not dead which can eternal lie, and after many strange eons even death may die."-- The Necromonicon
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DarkLady27
Registered:
Jul '00
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Date Posted:
10/31/01 1:42pm
Subject:
RE: Faces in the Passageway (a strange Vader/Ami fic-- please come on in!)
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. Your welcome! *shakes hand back* Is it ever great to find another Ami/Vader fan too! Any good Ami/Vader fics? Hmmm Well, sabrelight's doing one called "Knight of Darkness" . It's a really great fic . I'm also doing one with four great other authors and I have to update it  (lot's of homework
  )
Fantastic job with that post! Really , really sad Love the emotion!
(as you can tell  )
-----signature-----
"You may try and break me but I will not yield!".
"Everybody loves pidgeons."-- Charles Darwin
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Ashamaphone
Registered:
Jan '01
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Date Posted:
11/1/01 4:11am
Subject:
RE: Faces in the Passageway (a strange Vader/Ami fic-- please come on in!)
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Okay, now that I'm completely creeped out but that last postie....
It was great!
-----signature-----
There's only one thing to do - learn the language of the fleas, earn their trust, and breed with their women. And in time our differences will be forgotten.
--Peter Griffin
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Jedi Pikachu
Registered:
Feb '00
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Date Posted:
11/2/01 2:23pm
Subject:
RE: Faces in the Passageway (a strange Vader/Ami fic-- please come on in!)
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YAY! Another A/V fic!
*dances around with joy*
BTW, I love your other fic M_B_M!
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Meredith_B_Mallory
Registered:
Oct '01
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Date Posted:
11/2/01 3:41pm
Subject:
RE: Faces in the Passageway (a strange Vader/Ami fic-- please come on in!)
- Date Edited:
11/2/01 3:42pm (1 edits total)
Edited By:
Meredith_B_Mallory
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Opps... ^^;
-----signature-----
Meredith Bronwen Mallory
Evil Mad Scientist / Darth Bronwen
Apprentice of Darth_Fruitcake
Proud Master of the wonderful and ever-glorious Msna
"That is not dead which can eternal lie, and after many strange eons even death may die."-- The Necromonicon
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Meredith_B_Mallory
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Oct '01
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Date Posted:
11/2/01 3:42pm
Subject:
RE: Faces in the Passageway (a strange Vader/Ami fic-- please come on in!)
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Welcome, Jedi Pikachu! ^_^ Thanks so much for your feedback, hon. <squeals> I have three readers!
Here's a bit more... I have one more post on backlog so, depending on whether or not I write tonight, I may have another post for tomorrow.
<looks at the above> Um, good luck wading your way through that sentence. No, I don't have a map. But I do have more the story! Enjoy and, as always, please give feedback!
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Amalone District, Northern Hemisphere
Imperial Center, Coruscant
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('WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!')
She woke with the taste of blood in her mouth, her hand clutching at her throat. She heard choking noises, but it only took her a few seconds to realize they were her own. For a long, panicked while, she wasn't sure who 'I' and 'mine' and 'my' referred to.
('You' and 'I' are the same thing, and neither of us can breathe...)
Her eyes rolled upwards, only to see the worried faces of her nurses, just before one of them pried her mouth open and fairly shoved the breather inside. The thoughts in her mind solidified as much as they could through the fear, and things became more defined. Yalith Minborne, that was what 'I' meant. Her lips closed over the machine automatically and she felt it force movement through the still air of her lungs. She fought the urge to cough again, as her lungs fluttered helplessly. Having done the first part of its job, the machine switched to regulating her breathing. In, out, in, out. How she hated the rhythm! She closed her eyes, enduring, knowing that without the machine she'd still be starving for breath, eventually drowning with air all around her. Hovering above her, she saw the white robed nurses clasping their hands to their hearts and looking blissfully grateful. They looked a lot like carved angels. Didn't they put those above gravestones?
Sometimes Yalith wished they would just let her die.
(Oh, God, you just want to die...)
Her breathing had to be regular for a full five minutes before they'd take out the machine. Yalith watched the small crystal clock on her nightstand, willing the numbers to change. The taste of metal spiked on her tongue, and she almost thought the blood tasted better. Briefly, she thought she caught the taste of smoke brought into her mouth through the machine, but an attempt to breathe through her nose only brought on another coughing fit. Now she'd have to wait another five minutes.
Stupid lungs.
"You can take it out now," Nurse Hanip said at last. Her voice and eyes were kind as she helped Yalith remove the machine, and the young girl felt suddenly guilty. She shouldn't have been angry with them earlier. After all, they were only doing the job her father paid them to do; keep Yalith alive. None of them knew her dark wish, and none of them ever would. If they did, they would not let her have her wish, they'd only send her to the mental hospital. And the people *there* wouldn't let her die, either.
"Feeling better, dear?" Nurse Fallon asked sweetly, moving to help her young charge sit up. Not for the first time, Yalith noticed that Fallon wasn't much older than she was.
"Much better," she lied smoothly. Her eyes flickered from face to face, trying to read their intent. "I can still go to school, can't I?"
"Now, Mistress, it's already past five hundred hours," Hanip began reasonably, "You weren't breathing regularly for at least ten minutes. You gave us quite a scare, and you know when you have bad mornings like this it usually means you'll have a bad day..."
"Please?" Yalith put on her best smile, sitting up straight and looking at each of her nurses in turn, "I'm feeling better now. I've already missed two days this week!"
"Mistress..." Nurse Genea began.
"I would like to go to school," she said regally. The young girl turned her eyes to the Fallon, knowing the red-head held out the best chance of caving. "The attack wasn't spontaneous," she added, inclining her head and looking to the side, "I had a nightmare that triggered it." Nurse Hanip looked at Genea pointedly.
"I could have sworn I gave her the pills last night..." Genea said, confusion coloring her tone.
"She did," Yalith lied again, keeping her face carefully expressionless, "But they obviously don't work as well as the medic droid said they would."
Nurse Hanip's face was unreadable for several minutes before she finally nodded, eying Yalith suspiciously.
"You can go. But," she held up a finger, "if you feel even the slightest twinge, I want you to call immediately. Don't wait around about it, we'll send someone to fetch you." Nodding slowly, Yalith watched each of them leave in turn.
The numbers on the clock changed again, but still she did not move. Her concentration focused on her breathing, but other concerns circled near by, waiting for their turn. Mornings were her worst time of day, she felt out of balance and unsure of her own reactions. Her eyes slipped closed for a moment as she reached out with one hand. Without looking, her expert fingers stole into the nightstand's drawer, returning with a small square of cloth. Eyes still closed, she placed it fully over her mouth, and listened. From down the hall there came the sound of Fallon making breakfast; in the other room, Hanip was having a loud holo conversation with someone from the Med Center. Where was Genea? Yalith's brow furrowed in pain, but she forced herself to breathe only through her nose. Footsteps in the hall, heavier than Fallon but lighter than Hanip. That's where Genea was; fetching a clean school uniform. Relief apparent on her face, Yalith coughed loudly, the sound muffled by the cloth. Pulling her hand away, she looked down at the bloody mass laying in her palm. It was a large lump, oozing red as it quivered. Perhaps it was breathing. More out of disgust with herself than sickness, Yalith turned away from it, tying the cloth into a neat little package before she hid it under her pillow. Now breathing with as much ease as anyone, she rose from the bed and went to dress for school.
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Super Star Destroyer: The Executioner
En Route to Coruscant
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For Darth Vader, there was never any question of reality. The nightmare and the waking world had long since merged; he slept and knew no difference between them. Each was fueled by anger, the groping need for revenge, the desire to find his son. The child was, after all, the only piece of Her left in the depraved universe, his own human legacy... He woke with little transition and rose efficiently, as if he had sat down just moments ago. Through the filtered vision of the mask, he sometimes entertained the idea that either reality had no end, or else his life was one long sleep. He wasn't sure which was worse. And-- as much as he hated to admit it-- there were times when he hovered on that vast, sinking, edge of meditation and he would see Her as She had last been: eyes wide and afraid, body framed by her burning cloak, which somehow looked like a pair of twisted wings. It was only then that he desired to blur the line, to wake and (however briefly) feel in his disorientation that he was back in the Time Before, perhaps even imagine that she was somewhere in the room. The 'wiss-hur' of the breather did not allow for such indulgences.
Its sound penetrated even his sleep.
Having assured himself that the machinery running his respiratory system was at top performance, the Sith Lord motioned for the computer to raise the shell of the chamber. Normally he left all small uncertainties behind, but this morning it seemed that something had followed him out, whispering on the edge of his mind. Internally, he dodged the strange awareness that had come in his sleep, some knowledge of... Vader cut the thought off, abruptly, deliberately.
Beneath the mask, his face arranged itself in an expression resembled a frown, it was rare that he thought of his life before with anything aside from distaste. It bothered him to find anything positive about it, though on further reflection he concluded his thoughts had recently been colored by the knowledge that his son would be almost eighteen soon. That must be it. Of course, he had felt the entrance of his son into the world-- the tremor in the Force had been impossible to ignore-- just before Obi-Wan (and whatever or whomever was aiding him) hid it away. Over the years there had been a few isolated glimmers, exploding without warning in pain, happiness or sorrow, but they never lasted long enough to trace. That was, perhaps, the most frustrating aspect of the puzzle.
In the main room of his suite, he set to work on the computer, typing up a report on the campaign on Thall. In truth, he could have delegated the task to Captain Rebereae, but he preferred to do such things himself. (Expertly, he dodged the idea that it was a diversion. There was no knowledge from which to divert himself, except...) The Emperor would only be moderately pleased with this news; more rebels had escaped then those captured, even if Thall and its ancient matriarchal society were now securely under the Emperor's thumb. Vader only felt half the frustration towards the Rebellion the Emperor did, in his opinion the Rebellion would last only as long as Mon Mothma and her lot remained alive. Even now, it seemed to tapering out-- unless they converted a truly brilliant warrior, they might well fade into oblivion.
(That would not do, though, Vader wanted the personal pleasure of tearing down that which She had helped to construct. Again, he turned away from the hovering feeling of... something.) Even if the Rebellion was to disappear, such luck would not save them from the Emperor's wrath, or Vader's solid determination to stamp them out completely. If the slight failure on Thall annoyed the Emperor, then there was every chance Vader would be sent away again twice as quickly. The less time he was forced to spend on Coruscant, the better.
Satisfied with the report, Vader polished it off quickly and filed it aside. He sat motionless for a moment afterwards, struggling against the inertia of his nature, casting about for something to do, something to occupy his mind, if only for a few minutes. If he sat still much longer, it would come to him, this vanished and gone thing that was trying so valiantly to rise from the ashes. He stood up prepared to stalk to the door, head for the bridge where the presence of his underlings would surely prevent any consideration of the Time Before. It had to be Her, he thought with a healthy amount of bitterness. She intended to haunt him, appear on the edges of his vision, a shadowy, airy form, and then disappear altogether if he looked Her way. The weakling Anakin had died, but Vader would never be free of Her. Part of him, an old part, considered this a wonderful thing-- but the Sith Lord brushed it aside with ease. Yes, he decided, he would go to bridge; there was no reason to approach this day differently just because it was... Vader sat down, abruptly and heavily.
With a sinking feeling in the heart he wasn't supposed to have, he realized it was his anniversary.
-----signature-----
Meredith Bronwen Mallory
Evil Mad Scientist / Darth Bronwen
Apprentice of Darth_Fruitcake
Proud Master of the wonderful and ever-glorious Msna
"That is not dead which can eternal lie, and after many strange eons even death may die."-- The Necromonicon
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Meredith_B_Mallory
Registered:
Oct '01
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Date Posted:
11/3/01 9:18am
Subject:
RE: Faces in the Passageway (a strange Vader/Ami fic-- please come on in!)
- Date Edited:
11/3/01 9:19am (1 edits total)
Edited By:
Meredith_B_Mallory
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Uping this so people can find it...
~Meredith
-----signature-----
Meredith Bronwen Mallory
Evil Mad Scientist / Darth Bronwen
Apprentice of Darth_Fruitcake
Proud Master of the wonderful and ever-glorious Msna
"That is not dead which can eternal lie, and after many strange eons even death may die."-- The Necromonicon
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Lilu
Registered:
Mar '00
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Date Posted:
11/3/01 10:40am
Subject:
RE: Faces in the Passageway (a strange Vader/Ami fic-- please come on in!)
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I like!!!
Yes, I think that covers it....
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"There are two types of people in this world, good and bad.
The good sleep better, but the bad seem to enjoy the waking hours much more."
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Ashamaphone
Registered:
Jan '01
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Date Posted:
11/3/01 10:44am
Subject:
RE: Faces in the Passageway (a strange Vader/Ami fic-- please come on in!)
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whoa. This fic is ... getting weird...in a good way!!
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There's only one thing to do - learn the language of the fleas, earn their trust, and breed with their women. And in time our differences will be forgotten.
--Peter Griffin
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DarkLady27
Registered:
Jul '00
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Date Posted:
11/5/01 11:50am
Subject:
RE: Faces in the Passageway (a strange Vader/Ami fic-- please come on in!)
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That was so sad, but very well written! *sniffs* Great job!
UP!
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"You may try and break me but I will not yield!".
"Everybody loves pidgeons."-- Charles Darwin
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Meredith_B_Mallory
Registered:
Oct '01
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Date Posted:
11/6/01 4:54pm
Subject:
RE: Faces in the Passageway (a strange Vader/Ami fic-- please come on in!) Updated 11/6
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Lilu- Yay! It's good to have you on this thread too! I'm glad you like the story. ^_^
Ashamaphone- You need to be sainted, you give me so much feedback. Thank you! I'm glad you think the fic is getting weird... <sith grin>
DarkLady27- Nice to have you back again! Thanks for the feedback. Btw, I read your 'Dark Angels in Heaven' (I believe) and I'm really enjoying it!
And now back to our (semi)regularly scheduled programing.
---Remember the feedback! ----
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Amalone District, Northern Hemisphere
Imperial Center, Coruscant
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Freshly dressed in the uniform of the Coruscant Select Academy for Ladies, and freed at last from the constant worrying of her Nurses, Yalith was in a considerably better mood than the one she woke up in. She even felt so daring as to skip down the hallway outside her apartment-- a feat which was, during her bad season, impossible to accomplish without a fit of coughing. Smiling widely at the stranger in the lift, she toyed with the ends of her long braids, feeling a bout of restlessness settle in with her good mood. It seemed like a crime that she'd be stuck in her cramped desk all day, especially since she felt more alive than she had in months. The morning's confusion, as well as the dream ( no, no, not a dream, a memory ) had passed over her like a cloud on its way to someone else. Yalith supposed that the Importance of the day had something to do with her good mood. She didn't bother to analyze *why* the day felt important, she knew from long practice that it would be futile. It was the same with the strangers she met (the ones who seemed so familiar), and the places she came to one her first visit (but knew her way around with startling accuracy). On an intellectual level these things escaped her, but deep down, they were there. So, she simply accepted the fact that today was significant and moved on. She felt, insanely, that she ought to celebrate somehow.
"Hisae!" she called out when the lift opened at the bottom floor. Hisae, Yalith's best friend, was easy to spot even across the large lobby.
"You're late," the other girl remarked as Yalith came closer. Hisae crossed her arms in good-natured annoyance, glancing significantly at Yalith's sparkling eyes and smile. "Here I am thinking the Mother Patrol isn't going to let you come to school, and then you show up all bright eyed and bushy tailed."
"Well," Yalith pointed out, wagging her finger, "I almost didn't get past them."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Yalith rolled her eyes heavenward in annoyance. By some unspoken agreement, both girls headed towards the door, busy buttoning up their long wool coats. She risked a glance at her watch, "We're going to miss our train if we don't hurry. I'll explain on the way."
"If we're late, can we can blame it on one of your attacks? I have three tardies already, I can't afford anymore," Hisae said, tucking in her scarf, then pausing to hold open the door.
Outside, Coruscant's chilly morning air rushed over them, more intense then it would have been in the lower levels of the city. Despite the enormous control the planet's occupants exerted over the weather, there was a marked drop in temperature towards the end of the year.
"Three tardies?" Yalith asked once they were safely on their way to station. The wind whistled through the city's tall caverns, forcing her to raise her voice.
"Uh-huh. Don't you remember that-- Oh, that's right, you missed a lot this week," Hisae patted Yalith on the back, an understanding smile in her green eyes. The other girl merely shook her head, ashamed with her weakness. "Anyway, my brother came home for a visit two days ago, and he's been keeping me up with all night with stories," she yawned, as if to emphasize the point, "They're really great, though. I wish I could be a Stormtrooper," Hisae's voice took on a sad note, "This 'males-only' thing is plain mynok-poodoo." Yalith flinched, but said nothing. She and Hisae had gone round and round about their pseudo-political opinions, and they both tried to to pick their battles. This was one Yalith avoided, mostly because the chances of Hisae actually *becoming* a Stormtrooper were about the same as her chances of sprouting wings to fly. It wasn't worth jepordizing their friendship over. Instead she reached up to tug on Hisae's close-chopped bob of ebony hair.
"Well," she winked, "This hair-cut may make you look boyish, but I think you have a few other physical aspects that might just give you away."
"You're cruel!" Hisae shrieked, giving her friend a playful shove. Yalith returned the favor, and a scuffle ensued. Laughing, the smaller girl backed up against the railing of high-street, hands raised in surrender.
"I give, I give!" Yalith cried, gasping for breath.
"You should give!" her friend responded, "I'd be the best damn Stormtrooper in the Imperial Academy has ever seen!" She struck a fist against her palm, green eyes determined.
Still trying to regain her breathing pattern, Yalith merely nodded her support. Abruptly, Hisae's triumphant smile faded. "Hey," she said, placing a hand on Yalith's shoulder, "Are you alright?"
"Uh-huh," the other girl managed, pushing the murmur through her blood-red lips. The rest of her face was as colorless as a porcelain mask. Hisae grabbed for Yalith's purse, intent on finding the portable machine inside, but Yalith's long fingers held fast.
"Don't you want your breather?" Hisae's eyes were wide in worry, and only worry. Even in her distress, Yalith was thankful she found no pity there in.
"No," she tipped her head back, trying to draw air past the blockage in her lungs. A taste, faint as a ghost, teased her nostrils; stale and sharp, like honey. Smoke. Panic surged, and the sound of hear heart beat was heavy in her ears. 'There is no fire' Yalith told herself, pushing up the sleeves of her heavy coat and exposing her arms to the cold. 'Feel that?' she asked herself, 'No fire.'
('No fire..' something whispered distantly, like a sad low croon. 'Yes, today is a happy and sad day'.)
Yalith shuddered-- she felt the sadness hovering, and she wanted it to leave. Better she think of today as isolated from
('He's so black and terrible, and look how the fire reflects off His mask, and where is your Ani underneath all of that?')
her nightmares. She closed her eyes, tried to dispel all knowledge save that she was safe from the fire. Slowly, the metallic little butterfly caged within her lungs feel silent and still; Yalith breathed deeply, reached into her pocket for the scrap of cloth and coughed into it once.
".. please. You're scaring me, Yali!" Hisae was saying when Yalith's senses returned completely.
"Hmm?" she asked, blinking her wide gray eyes.
"Don't you 'hmm?' me!" the ebony haired girl's hands where shaking, "A minute ago it was like you were dead, and you wouldn't even use the breather!"
"I don't want to be dependent on a machine," Yalith spat, "Besides, I used it once already this morning." She forced her lips into a reassuring smile as she reached out to place a hand on Hisae's shoulder. "I'm fine now." With her free hand, she expertly wadded up the now-bloody cloth and tossed it into the nearest waste bin.
Hisae's smile was weak, but real, "I must be the self-fulfilling prophet. I said we'd use one of your attacks as an excuse, and now you're had one!"
"School..." Yalith's eyes were wide as she glanced down at her watch, "Holy Force, our train leaves in three minutes!"
"Relax," Hisae waved a hand about, "We're late, we'll only miss Modern History."
"Hisae...!" the other girl exclaimed, "We have a test in there today!"
"No, that's next..." Hisae blinked rapidly. "Oh, Maker, I didn't study!"
Yalith rolled her eyes, "Come on, I'll quiz you on the train. We need to hurry!" With that, the two girls proceeded to partake in a ritual that would persist amongst students in spite of the Empire or the Rebellion: the mad dash to school.
-----signature-----
Meredith Bronwen Mallory
Evil Mad Scientist / Darth Bronwen
Apprentice of Darth_Fruitcake
Proud Master of the wonderful and ever-glorious Msna
"That is not dead which can eternal lie, and after many strange eons even death may die."-- The Necromonicon
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