This is a prequel to "Whatever You Want" that elaborates on an incident mentioned briefly in that story. Note: I am not going to write any sequels to "Whatever You Want," or any more stories about this topic. They're a little too dark for me, I have to say. At the end of this, I will reveal what happens if you want to know. And about R2-D2, remember, he is a Sith droid here.

I do not own Star Wars.

Anakin hated waiting. He paced his Master's outer office with quick, agitated steps, one, two, three, four, five, turnabout, another five to the far wall, and around again. How many times had he strode this route, this confining space? How many times had he had nothing to look at but that innocuous piece of abstract art in the hollow there?

He glared balefully at the sculpture, a thin, stretched affair of blued metal like a spindly tree reaching for the sun. Ascension, Sidious said it was called, with the authentic satisfaction he reserved only for works of art. Quite an inspired piece, isn't it, Anakin? See how the branches spread out as they reach the sculpture's apex? What a grand metaphor for the pursuit of all you desire. Really quite proverbial, I would say. The mere sight of it made Anakin want to scream.

The dark acolyte currently favored enough to handle the Emperor's menial labors watched the Sith apprentice with narrowed eyes from behind his desk. Anakin threw him a scowl and gestured at the scrap of steely blue metal. "Really inspired, isn't it?"

The acolyte was suddenly and totally enamored with his datapad. Realizing his own unsteadiness, Anakin breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, calling on the dark side to crush his mess of emotions into submission. He knows I hate waiting. That's why he's making me wait. I can't fall into his traps. I won't play his games. He hardened his pitiful panicking flutter of a heart to a deep beat that echoed in his chest. Again he paced the room. No fear, no dread, no anxiety. All weaknesses, unworthy of a newly named Sith Lord.

I am Vader. He rolled the name silently on his tongue. Impressive, intimidating. Everything he could have hoped for. And yet he persisted in using his old name, his childhood name, among those closest to him. The clones in his legion still called him General Skywalker. R2, his oldest friend, still called him Anakin. Padme still called him… He gulped convulsively as the apprehension came rushing back.

The door to Sidious's inner office whisked open in an unspoken summons. Anakin advanced into the grand room, draped in red, the carpet so thick his boots sank into it. A wide desk of black wood dominated the center of the room. Behind it sat his Lord and Master, Darth Sidious.

Eyes trained on the ground, Anakin sank to his knees, face blank. "Lord Vader." His Master spoke softly. "I hope this is important." The last word trailed off suggestively.

Anakin knew full well what would happen if it wasn't. "I have a request, Master." He kept his voice flat, his mind clamped down on all emotions, shoring up every defense in his arsenal to keep Sidious at bay, out of his mind and out of his heart.

"A request? And what would that be?" Long-fingered hands folded together.

Anakin closed his eyes. Now that the time came, he didn't know how voice his request. "Can…I…"

"Vader!" Sidious's silken voice snapped a stinging command.

Anakin rushed on. "Can I marry Padme!" he blurted out, head jerking up involuntarily to see the reaction. A small figure cloaked in black sat above him. Beneath the hood, he glimpsed that terrible face, skin wizened and melted, eyes yellow ringed with red around the pupils that played across his face in surprise. Anakin lowered his head quickly.

"Marriage, Lord Vader? Why would you ever want to do that?" Sidious sounded genuinely puzzled.

Anakin's mind whirled until he felt dizzy. These past months, everything had changed. When he'd first met Padme, during a boring day at the puppet Senate, her beauty had attracted his eye, but he'd made no move to approach her. Women had never been high on his list of things to be possessed or conquered. To his shock, she approached him, inquiring his name. Apparently she hadn't known he was the Sith apprentice. A forty-five minute conversation resulted, when they debated the principles of government and the pitfalls of democracy versus dictatorship. She was stubbornly wrongheaded about the rights of most trivial beings in the galaxy, but what points she made! Though her reasoning stood entirely on empty notions of innate equality, her delivery was so eloquent and passionate that he'd caught himself slipping in his own resolve. When the Senate meeting was called into session unexpectedly and she ran to her seat, he was left dazed and breathless. That brief but stimulating encounter intrigued him enough that he willingly returned to the Senate the next day and sought her out. A strange acquaintanceship—based on mutual disagreement and bizarre chemistry—formed over the next few days. Then she learned he was the Sith apprentice, the newly christened Lord Darth Vader. To Anakin's confusion, she still wanted to spend time with him. Their conversations turned more personal.

Over the ensuing weeks, new feelings he had never felt before turned Anakin into an emotional mess. He found that when he shared a belief with her, he cared what she thought, and felt a sharp prick whenever she vehemently declared him wrong. He wanted her approval in a way he never had before, hungered for a beaming smile, a gentle word. This was far more than physical desire. Desire for a sexual encounter he understood; an animal urge, nothing more. But longing for her eyes to brighten when she saw him, a special smile tailored just for him, and the potential for agony if they were withdrawn… He hated these twisted-up feelings, but at the same time he thrilled at them.

The end result was a jittery wreck. One minute Anakin verbally crucified Captain Rex, the next he plaintively asked what sort of flowers did he think she'd like anyway. The befuddled clone did his best to help. When Anakin decided, after a month of nausea-inducing indecision, to court Padme, Rex was the one he turned to for assistance. After all, Rex had more experience in the romance department than Anakin did. Rex, at least, had watched holo-dramas.

The passing months left Anakin blurry with astounded happiness. Padme smiled when she saw him. She wanted to spend time with him. She kissed him—completely unexpected, and the most wonderful thing he'd ever felt. And now, after five months of courtship, he knew he was ready for the ultimate consummation of their mutual…chemistry. He'd asked last night. She'd been speechless, but agreed with a frightened smile. Now, though, came the hard part.

"This…Senator from Naboo?" Sidious continued. "I knew you found her pleasing, but…marriage?" His light tone turned to steel. "Why?"

Anakin blocked a naïve inner voice that cried, "Because I love her!" Love. What a weakness. Attraction, desire, magnetism. Not love. Not that he could admit to, though he knew it was true.

So he twisted the truth for Sidious's approval. "I want her, Master. If she is my wife, she is wholly mine." He glanced up from under his hood.

A smile slowly crossed Sidious's face. "Yeeeesssss," he drawled. "Very good, Lord Vader. Your initiative pleases me. A tactic designed to seize and possess, disguised as a tender gesture. I had not thought you capable of such subtlety."

The image of Padme's vibrant smile flashed through Anakin's mind. Possess? "Yes, Master."

Sidious raised a warning finger. "You must dominate her completely, Lord Vader. Heart and mind and soul. Crush her independent will, strangle any desire for autonomy. Consolidate your control over her, or she is bound to betray you."

Anakin's heart stuttered. "She would never do that."

Sidious smiled knowingly. "Oh no?"

Anakin's flesh fingers spasmed. He clenched them in his mechanical fist. "I trust her, Master," he retorted harshly, eyes down.

Sidious laughed a high, taunting chuckle of amusement. "Oh, Anakin. How naïve you still are, my young friend." His teasing voice hardened as the next words hit Anakin like a hammer blow. "Everyone will betray you."

He reeled under them.

"Everyone you befriend, everyone you trust, everyone you love will ultimately turn against you." The words rained down like blows. Anakin wanted to shout a denial, but between Sidious's verbal barrage and his own racing heart, he couldn't find the breath for it.

"Oh, they pretend affection and loyalty until you are at ease around them. Then, as soon as you turn your back, they stab, and twist the knife. Just to hurt you."

Anakin clenched his teeth against a scream forming in his throat. Sidious rooted out his deepest fears, his darkest nightmares, and gave them voice with the weight of prophecy. Padme in his head, and Rex, R2, an intimate kiss, casual banter, co-conspiring and laughter and spirited debates and a hand in his hair, completely loyal eyes returning his stare, freedom and happiness and love—

It shattered before his eyes, replaced with dark visions: hands caressing another man, a blaster pointed at the back of his head, secret reports to Sidious, and laughter, mocking laughter from all sides that taunted him: I'll help you break him, my Lord; Goodbye, sir; Poor Ani, he doesn't realize I never loved him at all— Poor Ani, poor Ani, poor Ani…

"They want to betray you. You are nothing."

"You're lying!" Anakin sprang to his feet. His vision turned scarlet. And the wizened face just smiled slyly up at him. "Am I?"

"I hate you."

Sidious turned his attention back to his datapad with a dismissive gesture at his stormy apprentice. "You have my permission to marry this Padme of yours."

Anakin stood frozen. Everything inside him crystallized like sap turned to amber, forever preserved. He wanted to scream. He wanted to murder. He wanted to vomit. Sidious glanced up at he turned to leave. "Whatever you want," he said with a malignant half-smile.

Anakin's blood turned to acid. He stumbled blindly from the room.

Anakin entered the barracks, his haven these last two years from Sidious and Ventress and Dooku and the acolytes. If only the pictures in his head would stop. If only the voices would stop. He barely noticed the greetings of the clones as he stalked the halls of the 501st private barracks. He beat his mechanical hand against his leg in a martial rhythm, his thigh sure to be bruised by morning.

They wouldn't betray me. I know them. I trust them. But the doubts wormed their way into his fragile certainty, his fleeting happiness, until they were hollow husks. His mechanical hand clenched until the servos skreed. "Sir!" He looked up to see Captain Rex heading for him with a hand raised in greeting, a welcoming smile on his face.

"Rex." Traitor.

"How are you, sir?" the clone asked, halting a meter from him, concern plain in his face, so open.

"I'm fine." How could you?

Rex hesitated, shifted uncomfortably as heat crept into his face. "Is it Senator Amidala, sir? Are you having a fight?"

The reminder of Padme sent a sharp pang through Anakin. He wheeled and strode into the nearest room, an empty rec room that was being refurnished. He dropped onto the couch and buried his face in the cushions, waiting for a macabre scream to tear from his throat. None came. It lodged in his chest, swollen until he could barely breathe. Crimson colored his vision. How could you? I trusted you. I loved you! Rage choked him. "Sir?" He jerked his head up. Rex stood in the center of the empty floor, in the dark. Only the square of light from the hallway penetrated the room's gloom. Anakin clenched his right hand until it hurt; against all reason, the hand without pain sensors hurt—and it relaxed into a fist. He waved the door closed.

Rex glanced behind him as the door slid shut. "The lights don't work in here, sir."

"I know."

Rex advanced a few steps and settled cross-legged on the floor, waiting for his general to make the first move. Doubtless he assumed it would be another invective on the female half of the species. So young. So trusting, alone with a Sith Lord in the dark. He didn't even notice when the lock clicked.

Anakin pushed himself upright. The firestorm in his mind had died, replaced by something massive, dark and cold and dead. "What do you want, Rex?"

Rex blinked, confused. "What do you mean, sir?"

Anakin watched him through vision no longer reddened, but blackened. "What do you want?" His voice was steady, calm, implacable. Rex looked at the ceiling, searching. "Uh…lunch, I guess."

"Done," Anakin returned with such swift, smooth simplicity that Rex looked back at him with a jerk.

"What?"

"You want lunch, you can have it. Anything you want is yours." Anakin leaned forward. "I will give you—"

"—whatever you want."

Rex wasn't sure where this conversation was headed. He'd thought General Skywalker had had a blowup with Senator Amidala. Based on the holo-dramas he'd seen, enormous fights happened on a day-to-day basis, full of sobbing jags and banshee-like screaming. Since the general and his lover had never had one, they must be long overdue. That was why Rex followed his general into the abandoned rec room. He needed someone right now, and Rex was the closest thing he had to a friend. But this wasn't at all what he'd expected.

"Whatever I want, sir?" he asked incredulously. "I don't think you can do that."

In the dark, he couldn't quite make the general, just a flicker of movement as he shifted. "Oh, but I can. Ask me for anything. It's yours." Rex racked his brains for something he wanted besides lunch. "Uh…I really can't think of anything, sir."

"Yes, you can. What do you want?"

"Really, sir, I don't want anything."

"What do you want?"

"Sir, you really don't have to—"

"Rex, what do you want?"

A chill ran down Rex's spine. "I-I really don't want anything, sir."

In the shadows, a shape stirred. Not 'a shape.' The general. "Of course you do, Rex. Everyone wants something," a cold, cold voice said with the hint of a laugh in it.

Rex started to his feet. "Sir, I really think we should talk about something else."

Quiet laughter set Rex's hair on end. "Oh, no, Rex. We're just getting started. What do you want?" The question a degree more insistent.

Rex backed toward the door. His heart jumped against his ribs. "A…a new blaster."

"What else?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Everyone wants something. What do you want?" The question tighter now, coiled with lethal potential.

Rex had almost reached the door. Robe rustled against fabric as the other stood. Sudden terror gripped Rex. "Sir, just let me get the light—" He fumbled for the switch, flipped it. Nothing happened. A step. Rex's fingers found the activation pad, to his intense relief. He would throw the door open, light would pour in, and General Skywalker would be grinning at him, nothing but a harmless joke they would laugh over— The pad jammed. Locked.

Shock left him speechless. Then he tried, "S-sir? Did you lock the door?" His voice was too loud and too quiet at the same time.

"What do you want?" Each word a pressure now.

Rex instinctively pressed his back to the door. "I—"

In the blackness, a shadow moved a step closer. "What? What is it?" it whispered, growing hotter.

"I want you to open the door, sir."

"Is that all?" Lightness, almost surprise.

Rex dared hope as he nodded mutely, knowing the general could sense the movement. A shriek of laughter ripped from the blackness, hideous and mirthless, furious and miserable and blacker than the shadows. "You don't really want that!" The words stabbed him, goading him. "What do you want?"

"For the door to open."

"What do you want?" the shadow hissed.

Rex dropped to a crouch, legs boneless. "Sir, sir, please stop."

"What do you want?"

Mindless terror drove all other feeling from Rex. "Sir, please—" he begged in a gasping, quavering voice.

The shadow appeared above him. "What. Do. You. Want." Every time it asked, the pressure increased. He was being crushed alive. "Please!"

"WHAT DO YOU WANT!"

Rex screamed.

Anakin shook all over. Blackness, cold and hot, seared him, which fed his rage, which only burned him more. He lashed out at the helpless, pitiful being that sobbed on the floor. A maggot, worthless and treacherous. It deserved to be obliterated for what it had done to him. "I will give you," he shouted, voice ragged, "whatever you want."

"I don't want anything!" it screamed through its sniveling tears.

The irony and sheer deception of that statement made Anakin laugh. A mad cackle rang back to him from the walls of their prison. "Everyone wants something! WHAT DO YOU WANT!" His demand stabbed right to the heart.

"NOTHING!" Rex wailed.

Anakin's rage broke. He came to himself, aware of himself again suddenly. From the floor came quiet weeping.

Frightened, sick, Anakin asked, "Rex?" in a fragile voice.

A gulping gasp, more sobs.

"Rex? What's wrong?"

"Sir—" Rex moaned. "Sir, please stop!" His voice broke.

Anakin staggered back against the wall as horror swept over him. What have I done? "Rex…" He crawled to his captain's side and touched him gently. The clone gasped with a surge of fear and jerked away. "Oh, Rex—" Anakin moaned.

No longer did the blackness of rage and hat cloud his eyes. Now everything was black, the blackness of emptiness and dark holes and the void between stars. "I'm so sorry, Rex—"

The clone raised his head, face tear-streaked, to look for him. Anakin waved the door open and ran from the room.

R2-D2 wheeled into the 'fresher, beeping inquiringly. Anakin huddled in a far corner behind the sinks, crying spasmodically.

The astromech saw him and beeped a reproachful, :There you are.: Anakin looked up at him with eyes red-rimmed but thoroughly blue. "R2, what am I?" he whispered hoarsely.

R2 rolled closer and bumped him. :A Sith, silly.:

Misery infused Anakin as he choked back sobs. "I hurt Rex. I really hurt him. I did what Sidious always did to me…the trigger words." R2 waited silently. Anakin struggled for words to convey the heinousness of what he'd done. "I tortured him with mind games, like he always did to me. And I enjoyed it!"

R2 wheedled pragmatically, :That's what a Sith does.:

Anakin turned away. "Then I don't want to be a Sith!"

R2 spurted in surprise and warning. :You don't mean that. Where else would you get power?:

Bile coated Anakin's throat. He'd had complete power over Rex. He'd have power over Padme now. Tears blurred his vision. "I don't want power." The words released a floodgate. He burst into tears like a two-year-old. "I never wanted anything! I didn't! I just wanted him to stop! Why wouldn't be just leave me alone?"

R2 shocked him with his electro-prod. Anakin yelped as electricity coursed through him. The droid stood on his tiptoes to align his photo-receptor with Anakin's eyes. :Get…a…grip.:

He blinked and stared at his hand. "I'm just like him," he whispered in despair.

R2 bumped him again. :No, you're not.:

"Then why did I hurt him? Why did I hurt someone I trust? Someone I love?"

R2 had no answer. He rolled out of the 'fresher and left Anakin alone with his demons.

That night he knocked at Padme's apartment door with a shaking hand. He never knocked these days. He just waved it open. After a minute, she answered. The beginnings of a smile faded when she saw his haggard expression. "Ani?"

He ducked past her into the apartment's foyer. Padme followed him, reaching out to draw him in for a hug. Anakin put his hands on her shoulders and held her firmly at arm's length. "I'm not marrying you."

Padme stared at him. "What?"

"I'm just not," he snapped, anger flaring to new heights. "I changed my mind. So…leave me alone."

He started for the door, but Padme grabbed his arm with surprising strength. "What is it?"

"I said leave me alone!"

"Don't yell at me," she returned coolly. "Now sit down and tell me what's wrong."

He glared down at her, furious, and felt the danger rise. She dared to defy him— Rex's tear-streaked face flashed into his mind, and his anger went out with a wash of coldness.

Padme drew him firmly down onto one of her yellow couches and sat facing him, holding his hands. "Ani, what is it?"

"I'm not marrying you. I told you. I changed my mind." He tried half-heartedly to free his hands.

She just tightened your grip. "You're scared. That's perfectly normal. I am, too."

"I don't get scared! Fear is for the weak."

Padme tugged his head to be level with hers. "You're not weak," she told him firmly, and pressed her mouth to his. Anakin's feeble resistance melted. Who am I kidding? Of course I'm marrying her. She said yes, and he said yes, so what I did doesn't matter. But what do I—

They settled together on the couch, her head on his chest. "Padme?" "Hmm?"

He played with her hair, twisting it gently around his fingers, marveling at the impractical, beautiful length of it. "If I've hurt someone badly, how do I make things right?"

Silence. Any talk of his activities as a Sith had to be brought up carefully, if at all. One of the many things they had agreed upon last night: don't bring work home with you. Too many stories of atrocities committed and her conscious might get the better of her. Too many mentions of Republic contacts he knew she had and he'd have to report them to the Emperor.

Padme opened one eye to look at him. He looked fixedly at the ceiling. Don't ask. We are not talking about this.

"Apologize."

Anakin dug his heels in metaphorically. He never apologized. To admit to wrongdoing was tantamount to a confession of weakness. Anyway, he hadn't done anything illegal, technically… But I am sorry. So sorry. He veered away from the sorrowful thoughts. "And if I can't?"

"Then…if you can't say you're sorry, show you're sorry. You should be better at that. Without words, actions are all you have."

Rex avoided eye contact with Cody over the table. He focused on his lunch, some sort of savory meat casserole that smelled divine. Really, despite its mouthwatering richness, after that smoky scent, every bite disappointed.

"Rex, what happened?" Cody pressed.

Rex stabbed a steaming chunk with a fork. "Nothing."

His brother let out an exasperated breath. "He did something. Even I can see that. You cried for an hour last night, and you're much too quiet today."

Rex stabbed another lump that ran with honey-colored juices. His stomach tightened. Suddenly he wasn't hungry. The words crowded his mind, echoing with menace: What do you want? "General Skywalker was just upset. That's all."

"Upset?" Cody asked incredulously. "Rex, I've known since the first week that it was only a matter of time until he did something to someone. All the dark acolytes' legions—"

Rex glared up at Cody. "He's not like them." Cody shook his head grimly. "He's a Force-user, Rex. You know I'm the last one to question the ideals of the Empire, but the plain truth is that Force-users torture their troops in some way at some point. Just think of Ventress's legion. They get a new man every week after she has her fun with them. General Skywalker's better, but at the core he's no different."

Rex clenched his fork. "Shut up. He's not. He's good."

"Then what did he do?"

Rex's heart raced. "He…just asked me questions. That's all."

Cody shook his head. "His questions are what worry me. He asks you about philosophy and puts you on the spot, just waiting for you to trip up. He backs you into a corner. He—"

"He is pleased to know his men gossip behind his back, Cody."

Rex barely choked back a shriek.

General Skywalker stood next to their table, not wearing his black over-robe for once, only a black tunic and pants. He glanced at Rex and away, but turned his head slowly back to the captain. With a pained half-smile, he said, "Hey, Rex."

Rex clutched his fork. "Sir." He nodded, soldier-monotonous.

General Skywalker's eyelid twitched.

"Sir, I didn't mean—" Cody protested, white-faced.

General Skywalker clapped his hands for attention. The room grew instantly silent as hundreds of identical faces turned toward him. "I've become aware of some unfortunate behavior recently, and I'll have to take steps to rectify it." The crowd barely shifted, but Rex could hear a distressed murmur run its length anyway. He hadn't a clue what the general meant. General Skywalker's eyes lighted on him. "Number one: every room that's not a bunkroom will be equipped with emergency lights that come on when the main lights are shut off and can't be disabled."

Rex looked up quickly. General Skywalker glanced at him, a world of remorse in that one look, then glanced quickly away and continued briefing the troops in a ringing voice. "Number two: you must never be alone in a room that's under maintenance. Always have a brother with you."

Rex straightened and searched the general's face, which was the usual blank mask of confidence. But there—another naked glance at him, swiftly turned aside.

"Number three—" He coughed weakly. "Never follow me anywhere went I'm angry." Skywalker stared at his boots for an instant, hand beating hard against his thigh. Rex knew that tick: a distraction from some unpleasant emotion. The general's head came up and he swept them with a commanding look. "If I leave in a hurry, it's because I want to. Don't follow me. Don't ask if I'm all right. Don't insist on my company. If you do, you'll regret it." He looked right at Rex. "And I'd rather you didn't."

Rex followed his general after he left, calling for him to stop in the main hall outside the mess.

Skywalker tensed. "Didn't you hear my orders, Captain?"

Rex knew better than to say what he was thinking: You're sorry it happened. You're trying to keep it from happening again. You're trying protect me—from you! I was right about you. You are good. He stopped and said, "We're not in an empty room, sir. The door's still open." The question still rang in his head. He mentally began a chant of Vode An to drown it out. "Sir…did the Emperor do that to you?"

Skywalker glared over his shoulder at him. "Don't take liberties with me, Captain. Just because I grant you special privileges doesn't mean you can ask about my personal affairs."

Rex managed a weak smile. This mood, too, would pass. His hands shook, so he squeezed them into fists until the tremor stopped. "I've been thinking about the answer, sir."

Skywalker whirled around. "I don't want to hear the answer! I know the answer! Don't bring it up!"

Rex ducked his head to avoid the animal yellow creeping into Skywalker's eyes. Dryness filled his mouth. "I'm sorry, sir. But I have to know," he half-pleaded. If he knew for sure, he thought he could stop the howling chorus in his head. "Is it—" He squeezed his eyes shut. "Whatever you want?"

Silence. He waited for a strike to the face or a Force-choke, though the general had never physically hurt him.

"Yes."

He jerked his head up.

Skywalker watched him expressionlessly. "It's a mind game of his. It's how he breaks his apprentice to his will. He just keeps asking, however long it takes. Eventually, you crack. You finally find out what he wants you to say. You say it—and he keeps on asking until you mean it. Then it stops." Vode An roared in Rex's head, barely louder than the question. Acidic bile rose in his throat. "Sir—"

Skywalker dove in and hugged Rex hard. "Want what you want," he whispered in the stunned clone's ear. "Not what I want." The Sith quickly backed up and spun to continue down the hall.

Rex stared after him, desperately searching for words. He couldn't just leave like that. "Sir, are you getting married?" he called.

Skywalker brightened like someone had flipped on the light. "Next week."

Rex felt an answering grin tug at his lips. So mercurial. Thank the Force. "Can we help plan it?"

Skywalker approached slowly, an almost suspicious squint to his eyes. "Now what do you know about wedding planning?"

Rex shrugged modestly. "I've read up on it." When the general did not look convinced, he grinned. "Oh, come on sir. Why would your own troops sabotage your wedding? It's the only one we're ever going to get invited to."

"And who said I was inviting you?"

Rex spread his hands regretfully. "If you don't, sir, we'll be forced to crash it."

Skywalker actually laughed, a normal laugh, strained but without a bitter or hysterical edge. Rex grinned lopsidedly in relief. Vode An still droned in his head, but softer now.

"In that case, the planning is all yours, Rex."

About what happens after "Whatever You Want": the twins are born, after a while Rex deserts (with Cody!) to the Republic with Anakin's blessing. Luke and Leia are trained by Anakin but have an amazingly happy childhood, considering. Leia marries Han and Luke marries Mara, who is a dark acolyte. They have their various kids. Sidious decides that the family has gotten too big and decides to "cull" them and only keep one as his new apprentice (most likely Anakin Solo or Jacen-not sure which.) The family (which includes Chewbacca) deserts and joins the Republic. (Remember, Padme had connections and could get them to trust her.) They help destroy the Empire. The Force-sensitives become Jedi (with some reluctance on Anakin's part.) And there you have it. Sorry I won't be writing it. I've just lost interest, and anyway, I never meant to write more than the one story.

As always, please review.

mad'ika