DISCLAIMER: I do not own Star Wars, and I am in no way affiliated with Lucasfilm's productions, although, I do enjoy them.
Luke sat on the edge of the bed flexing his new mechanical version of his right hand. It was amazing how the severed nerves controlled the circuitry in his hand. He could feel every touch, every pain almost as if his real arm had never been chopped off.
He shook his head. That image of Darth Vader wouldn't leave his mind. The words that he had spoken echoed through his consciousness.
"Luke, I am your father."
Such a cliché. Of course this... well, you couldn't call him a man now could you,... Of course this thing wasn't his father. His father had been a moister farmer on Tatooine, just like Luke's Uncle Owen. His father had been an amazingly talented mechanic who loved to race land-speeders; not some murder-bent half-machine.
"Luke, I am your father... your father... your father..."
"NO!" Luke stood up and yelled before he realized that everything was just fine. After his outburst, he took several minutes to try and calm his mind. Using the force to help soothe his nerves, he started to mull over his thoughts and memories.
With the force amplifying his memories, he strained his mind trying to find anything that could help him resolve this mental conflict. Supporting his head in his cupped hands, he began to think.
Finally a reverie came to him. It wasn't a face, or a sound. Just a feeling. Luke couldn't place it, couldn't describe it, or even seem to contemplate its significance. Perhaps it wasn't even a memory at all. Whatever it was, it gave him a sick feeling in his stomach. Although he didn't want to believe it, and still tried to deny it, deep down he knew what Vader had said was true.
Besides, what would Vader gain by lying to him?
((A/N: Yeah, I know there wasn't much substance to that, but I wanted to write a fic on something other than Full Metal Alchemist for once. Perhaps I'll work on one that's slightly more evolved later. ))