Luke looked down at his civilian clothing again, hoping against hope that it was disguise enough. He was following a young medic through the hospital the records had said was healing his father, and she seemed not to suspect anything, going as far as to be chatting amiably.

"It's good to see Lord Vader finally have a visitor," she said happily, "He seems lonely, all alone in his room day in and day out. I asked one of my superiors if I could go in and talk to him, but she said the last person who did was cleaned up when they were very sure he was asleep. He doesn't like to be disturbed."

Luke couldn't help smiling, in spite of his nervousness, "He does make that fairly clear."

"Well, yes. Are you sure you want to risk speaking to him?"

It was a more valid question than she could know. Luke wasn't absolutely certain he was doing the right thing, but his logic was that if it was enough to keep a Skywalker, even a turned Skywalker in hospital, his father's wounds were probably enough to keep him from moving as quickly as Luke could when necessary. He nodded as firmly as he could, and the medic smiled at him.

"Good luck."

Looking at the closed door to his father's room, Luke knew how badly he needed it. The medic gave a friendly wave, and headed back the way they had come. Luke bit his lip. He wanted to go through that door desperately, but he was uncertain. The woman had said that Vader was asleep at the moment, but Luke had a terrible suspicion that the whole set up was a trap. It would be just like Vader to use himself as bait, and it would be an incredibly dangerous trap to spring. Who knew what could be waiting for him, just on the other side of this flimsy piece of plastic?

He gently tapped the Force to sense his father's presence on the other side of the door, and it seemed asleep, although far from at peace.

Luke gathered his courage and slapped the opening mechanism. The door whooshed almost silently into the ceiling, and Luke stepped in. He was so intensely focused on putting one foot in front of the other that he didn't see his father until he stood at the foot of the man's bed.

Looking upon the mighty Darth Vader, Luke felt that his father didn't look very mighty. He looked like nothing more than any greying, middle aged man. Looked like less, even. He was deathly pale, and Luke hated to look at the scars on him. He wasn't greying, because he had absolutely no hair, no eyebrows, and, as far as Luke could see, not even eyelashes. The powerful, feared Sith Lord was asleep, as Luke had been told, his eyelids fluttering slightly, and his face, the lower half of which was covered by a breath mask, twisted in pain.

Luke hated the pain, and he gently reached down and took his father's hand. It was prosthetic, as were his other three limbs, his right hand, the one Luke held, metal from above the sleeve of the hospital gown, his legs metallic from the knees down, his left arm from the elbow.

Luke knelt on the ground beside his father's cot, pressing the cold metal against his face. This wasn't how he'd hoped to find his father. He'd expected maybe casts, maybe one prosthetic, possibly some cuts he was healing from, but this was too much. He forced himself to look into his father's pained face, and knew he couldn't hate his father. Vader had nothing. He couldn't know what it was like to love something, if he had nothing to love himself.

"You have me, Father," Luke whispered, reaching up and tenderly stroking his father's brow.

Vader flinched, and turned away from Luke's touch. Luke retreated, still holding his father's hand. He'd hoped that Vader would lean in towards his hand, and perhaps be calmed. He wanted to help. He wanted to take Vader's pain away from him. He would take those scars, the prosthetics for his father, if it were possible. He would take the hatred and the loneliness, and the pain.

Looking at the metal claw he clung to, Luke knew he couldn't take his father's pain. He could do nothing to ease his father's ordeal. He couldn't even fully understand. His own prosthetic, which had allowed him to keep just enough anger against Vader to continue to work against him, no longer seemed like such a terrible thing. It seemed almost a link to his father. Yes, Vader had maimed him, but it brought them just a little closer, and Luke suddenly valued that.

"Did you do this to me so I could understand you better?" he asked his father's sleeping form.

Vader didn't even shuffle. He lay still, silent, pained.

Luke didn't speak again. He hesitantly released his father's hand and dragged a chair over to beside his father's bed. He sat down, and took Vader's hand again. His father seemed not to have noticed. Cradling the metal spider, Luke looked around the room. It was dimly lit, presumably to allow Vader deeper sleep, and utterly unadorned. A chart hanging over Vader's head was full of technical medical jargon that Luke couldn't begin to understand, but other than the slowly breathing form in the bed, it was the only sign of life. Luke looked at the bedside table, which would usually bear a few cards, and perhaps a plant, but it too was bare.

Luke wondered if it would be too presumptuous to make his father a card, or any sort of decoration, and glanced around the room again, this time looking for any sort of paper and a writing utensil. He was in no way an artist, but any scribble he could give his father would improve the starkness. He saw nothing. There was no durasheet, the pens used to make changes to the chart removed.

Luke shifted, trying to get both comfortable, and closer to his father, and sneezed. The chair had given a large puff of dust. It had been absolutely covered in dust, and Luke's best attempt at clearing some of it off had clearly not been enough. The chair, comfort for any visitors, had clearly never been used. A thick layer of dust lay on all things not strictly needed, and it made Vader's room seem far lonelier than even the clear bedside table. Vader hadn't had one visitor. Not one. No one in the galaxy cared enough to come and visit the Empire's second in command.

"I care," Luke told his father, "I came to see you."

For the first time, Vader seemed to respond to Luke's words, "Padmé?" he murmured.

Luke started, nearly releasing his father's hand, "What?" he asked.

"Padmé?" Vader asked again.

"Oh, you're awake," Luke said, speaking only to calm himself. As he looked at his father's face, however, the man's eyes were wide, staring at Luke in horror.

"Luke. You shouldn't be here."

"And completely alert," Luke said, feeling slightly defeated, "I'll be honest, I'd hoped you wouldn't wake up quite that quickly."

Vader wrenched his hand from Luke's, and Luke felt stung, but Vader merely pushed himself upright, "What good would that have done?" Vader demanded. His voice was very weak, but it was clear he was speaking as loudly as he could.

"Maybe you wouldn't have questioned my presence," Luke said.

Vader was upright now, glaring at his son, "You should not be here," he said again.

Luke reached for the controls of the hospital bed, wanting to move it into a sitting position, but Vader slapped his hand away.

"What were you thinking?" Vader demanded, "Is it your mission to be killed?"

"No!" Luke said defensively, "I just wanted to see my father, is that such a crime?"

Vader now moved the bed so that he could lean back against it. Luke stared into his face, hungrily devouring the protective anger that his father was directing at him.

Once Vader had carefully leaned back into the bed, he sighed, reaching for Luke's hand, "I'm sorry, Luke. Although you must put a higher price on your safety. What would you have done had I not wanted to see you?"

"Does that mean you wanted to see me?" Luke asked hopefully.

"Answer the question," Vader urged.

"I would have run," Luke said honestly, "Did you want to see me?"

Vader smiled tiredly, "Quite badly."

Luke's heart soared. While his father's condition had been far worse than he had dared to imaging, his reaction to his son's presence was more than Luke had dared to hope. He grinned at his father, and felt his awareness of the rest of the galaxy fade with his anxiousness. Vader pulled his son's arm towards himself, and Luke watched as his father inspected the prosthetic.

"The engineering is sound," Vader noted, "And the parts are of high quality."

Luke nodded happily, "The Alliance is very careful about treating us."

"I'm very glad," Vader answered, "Have you built a new lightsaber?"

Luke nodded again, taking it from his belt and holding it up so his father could see it.

"May I?" Vader asked, reaching for it.

Luke paused, uncertain, but then passed the 'saber over, "Just don't ignite it, or we'll have doctors running from all over the hospital."

Vader nodded, turning the hilt in his hands before carefully opening it up to look at the workings. Luke watched nervously until his father closed it up again, and passed it back.

"You did a good job," Vader said, "Although it screams Obi-Wan's simplicity in design. I suppose it was his instructions you built it with?"

Luke nodded.

"I could help you to improve it," Vader offered sounding hopeful, but far from optimistic.

"Here?" Luke asked, "Sure."

Vader shook his head, "Not here. I have no tools here. I meant another day, when I have returned home."

"Oh," Luke bit his lip, 'Um. I'd love to, but…" he trailed off, wishing that he could have said yes.

Vader nodded regretfully, "I know."

They sat in silence for several minutes, and Luke shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clinging tightly to Vader's hand still. He hadn't thought of anything further to say to Vader. He had been so certain that his father would either attack him and imprison him, or brush him off completely. He told himself that speaking didn't matter, as long as they sat together.

Vader seemed tired again, and he lowered his bed again. Luke helped him to get comfortable, and then sat on the edge of his bed instead of the chair. His father didn't protest, his hand remaining in Luke's.

"Why did you choose to return to me?" Vader asked at long last, "Knowing full well that I may have been attempting to capture you?"

Luke sat and thought about that question for several minutes, finally answering, "I guess I'm just as stupid as Han always jokes."

Vader smiled and motioned his son closer, embracing him as soon as he was close enough. Luke allowed himself to go limp, resting silently, his face pressed against his father's ear. At last, Vader released him, and gently propped him upright.

Luke looked at his father again, taking in the scars and prosthetics once more.

"Thank you for coming, my young imbecile," Vader said, "Your presence makes the wait more bearable."

"I wish I could do more," Luke told him, "Do you want or need anything?"

He had expected a rueful thanks for offering to do what he could not, but Vader was gazing at him appraisingly and said at last, "Have you ever healed?"

"With the Force?" Luke asked. It hadn't occurred to him that he might have had more power than the medics he'd passed in the halls. He hadn't known that the Force could be used like that. Had he ever even seen it done?

"Yes."

"I don't know how," Luke said, "Could you teach me?"

At that, Vader gave a weak laugh, "Do I look like a healer to you?"

"I guess not. You've never even tried to heal yourself?"

"The Dark Side corrupts, Son, you know that. Just as touching the mind of another with the Dark Side can corrupt it, Dark healing corrupts the body."

"Corrupts?" Luke asked nervously.

"The healing is effective in the short term, but as time goes on, it becomes cancerous."

Luke shivered, "I can see why you didn't use it, then. Is it like using the Force to do anything else?"

"I imagine."

"Okay, then," Luke said, "Where do you want me to start? With your limbs? Maybe your dominant hand?"

Vader shook his head, "The Force can work miracles, but that is asking too much. Perhaps you could focus on this," he said, gesturing to the scar across his scalp.

Luke nodded determinedly and gently laid his hands on either side of it, imagining his father's head whole and unscarred. He tried to put every ounce of Light power that he could, and watched hopefully. After several moments of trying so hard to heal, he sat back, panting slightly.

Vader was smiling at him, "You needn't have tried quite that hard."

"It didn't do anything," Luke related, frustrated, "It looks just as bad as it ever did."

"It feels a galaxy better," Vader assured him, "Perhaps you could try again once you've caught your breath."

Luke reached out again, ignoring the concept of waiting until he'd caught his breath, and tried once more to heal. He pushed aside all concept of anger, allowing only his desperation to help, to help the man who had helped to give him life, to help and to heal. Yoda had said that the Dark Side wasn't stronger, and he'd seen the miraculous horrors his father had caused, surely the Light must have that power channeled to healing.

At last, he saw the scar becoming less raised, as though it was sinking back under the new, unblemished skin. Once the whole raised length of it had vanished Luke sat back, grinning, "I did it!" he said happily, "I did it! Feel," he commanded, putting his father's hand on his scalp.

Vader smiled up at him, reaching up to put a hand gently on the left side of his son's chest, "Your heart is purer than anything I've ever encountered," he told Luke gently.

Luke felt as though he was flying, elation wrapped about him in a great protective layer. He had been able to help! He had successfully helped Vader to live with less pain. He had brought his father one step closer to being human. And his father was proud of him, and that was, perhaps, the best part.

Encouraged by his success, Luke asked, "Your breathing. Where is the damage?"

Vader shook his head, "Throughout. Don't attempt to-," but Luke already had his hands at Vader's throat, healing again. He felt his healing power rolling down his father's air passages like some sweet, viscous liquid, and, as he reached the lungs, he sensed it gently smoothing their blackened remains into a functional tissue.

As he pulled back, however, he felt his head spin, and he nearly toppled onto his father's chest. He realized suddenly that he was shaking, and that his vision was blurred.

"You've exhausted yourself," he heard Vader say with heart-warming concern, "Lie down beside me."

Luke did as he was told, lowering himself as carefully as possible onto the mattress next to his father. He knew his father was shifting over to allow him more space, and he was thankful. He just needed a few minutes' rest. He closed his eyes, and nestled himself against Vader's shoulder. It was the one he'd slashed in their duel at Bespin, he realized suddenly. He had caused his father that pain. Without thinking, he found his hand on it, and he was trying to heal. Vader brushed his hand away.

"Luke, you need to relax. Sleep. I promise you, it will be all right."

Luke wanted so badly to heal him. He shouldn't have hurt his father in the first place, and now he needed to repair the damage he had caused. He reached for his father's shoulder again.

"No, Luke," Vader said, and this time his voice was more commanding, "You may try again once you've had some sleep."

Luke wanted to argue, but he couldn't find the energy. Instead, he put his head on the shoulder, and felt Vader's arm gently around him. He was so tired… He barely noticed as Vader removed his breath mask, and placed it on the empty bedside table. He felt his father's nose in his hair, and felt it stirring slightly. He gave one last nuzzle before he drifted off to sleep.

"Luke," Vader's voice was stronger, and Luke realized that his healing of his father's breathing may have helped him to speak properly again, "Luke," his father repeated desperately, "Wake up!"

Luke didn't want to open his eyes. He felt as though Yoda had had him running marathons again, and he just wanted to stay snuggled up against his father.

"Wake up!" Vader demanded again, "Luke!"

Luke felt his father's prosthetic hands digging into his back as he was pushed upright.

"I know you're awake, Luke, stop pretending."

Luke gave up, and opened his eyes. His father was looking at him in desperation. As he saw that he was awake, Vader reached out again, and took Luke's head in his hands for a moment, and a strange detached feeling came over Luke, and it was as comforting as it was terrifying.

Confused, Luke asked, "What did you just do to me?"

"I severed you from the Force," Vader said desperately.

Luke was suddenly very much alert, "You did what to me?"

"Listen to me," Vader commanded.

"Give it back!" Luke said.

"Luke-," Vader started.

Luke was on his feet, glaring angrily at his father, "Give it back!"

There was a sudden immediate feeling of having been grabbed in an immense hand, and Luke knew it was his father's Force powers. It pushed him closer to his father's bedside, and he struggled desperately. He had been so certain his father bore him no ill-will! He shouldn't have let his guard down, but why hadn't Vader simply severed him from the Force and chained him whilst he slept?

"Luke, if you will ever listen to me, listen to me now," Vader asserted, "I did it for your own good, and you need to get under this bed right now."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Luke demanded, angry and frightened by the loss of his ability to defend himself with the ease to which he had become accustomed.

"I don't have time to explain," Vader said, "Do as I say. Stay calm, and don't come out until I tell you to. When I tell you to come out, I will return your powers."

Luke gazed into his father's face for a moment, and saw such desperation in his face that Luke was taken, and he crawled under the bed, into a cabinet. He carefully closed the door after himself and sat curled in a ball in the darkness. He tried desperately to hear what was happening outside of the cabinet, but remembered to his dismay that his hearing was not truly his own, that it had been enriched by the Force, and as a result he could not hear as well as he expected himself to be able to.

He took a deep breath and tried to slow the beating of his heart. As he slowly calmed, he began to hear the conversation that was just starting outside.

"Lord Vader, I have sensed a most uncharacteristic joy from you," said a strange voice, dripping with darkness, from outside of Luke's hiding place.

"I had success in healing myself," Vader answered, "That was the cause of my joy, Master."

"Remember that you owe your life to me," the man Luke now realized must have been Sidious answered.

"I remember, my Master."

"And remember that I have the power to end your life whenever I so choose."

"I am aware."

Luke was trembling so hard that he was amazed his knees knocking against the inside of the metal cabinet hadn't alerted Palpatine to his presence. He understood now why his father had severed him from the Force and told him to remain calm. He took a deep, steadying breath, but as he did so, there was a cry of pain from somewhere above him.

"You owe to me everything you have. You must not forget this, if you value what I allow you. If you turn against me, I can cause you to feel that pain constantly."

With those cold, cruel words, the Emperor seemed to have left, as the door whooshed open, and Luke stayed in the darkness, shivering. After several minutes that felt like eons, the door opened, and there knelt Vader, looking in on his son. Luke tumbled out, and grasped his father by the front of the shirt, pressing his face against the shoulder of the gown.

"You saved me," Luke mumbled, "You saved me from Palpatine."

He felt Vader nod, and the older man began to rock him slowly, gently. Luke was aware that he was still shivering. He couldn't quite believe that he had been so close to the Emperor, and that Vader had stood between them. He finally managed to pull away, and smiled at his father, "Thanks."

Vader smiled again, and gently patted his head.

"You'd better get back into bed," Luke said, standing up and carefully helping his father upright. He was able to gently shunt Vader back onto his bed, and Vader pulled himself into a comfortable sitting position.

Luke looked down at his father, and gave him another hug. As he stood up, he was aware of Vader watching him like a young child, wanting someone to stay and speak to him. He stood, shuffling his feet, and finally bending to check that his boots were properly fastened before turning to walk out the door.

"Won't you stay?" Vader asked from behind him.

Luke turned around, gazing back at his father. He wanted so badly to stay, but he knew it was impracticable.

"I have to go back to the Alliance," he said as gently as he could.

Vader looked put-out, although Luke could sense nothing in the Force. He ran back to his father, and hugged him again, "You know I can see your face, don't you?"

Vader returned the hug, "I'm sorry, Luke, I forgot."

Luke squeezed very tightly before releasing his father, "I love you, Father. I guess – I guess we'll see each other again."

Vader nodded, and Luke knew all that he wasn't saying, that they would be enemies when they saw each other again, each expected to kill the other. He helped his father to lower the bed back into a horizontal configuration, and pulled the blankets up over his father's form. As soon as he was certain his father would be comfortable, he turned and walked towards the door.

As he crossed the threshold, Vader called after him, "I won't forget this, Luke."

Luke acted as though he hadn't heard his father, and hurried down the hall, trying to wipe the tears from his cheeks. He wanted so desperately to turn around and run back, and stay by his father's side, but he knew better. He knew that his friends were waiting for him at home, and that he had to return. And, with a surprisingly comforting certainty, he knew he would see his father alive, well, and very dangerous. But now, just slightly in Luke's debt.