A/N: While this was one of my favorite stories, one I was proud of, I have opted to re-do it. You will notice the same basic plot-at least, during the first chapter- but hopefully a little better written. I intend to rewrite all of my Star Wars stories, as most were written during 6th grade and I like to think my writing style has matured since then. So for those who have been waiting so long for me to update, and perhaps completely forgot about this story, it's back in business. Please review; once again, they're the best compliments I ever receive.

Families fight. It's a known fact, perhaps a law in itself. But this was a sick twist of the law, like a joke gone wrong.

Luke found the smallest drip of humor in the back of his head. Despite the many hours spent chasing his father away from his mind, he was now musing on the philosophical side their relationship at the least convenient time. But perhaps thinking of this helped him not to give in.

He hid from the black specter, soothing the calls of cowardice in his Jedi mind with claims of strategy. Momentarily, Luke wondered if the mechanical breath would pulse in his head for the rest of his life, which might not be that long. No, for now it was not his insanity, but the genuine breathing underlining Vader's monologue.

Block him. He wanted the advice to be in Ben's voice, but he couldn't draw up the memory. Perhaps the recollection of his sister's voice would bring him back to now. Leia. If for nothing else, live for Leia. His heart heaved with an unfamiliar mixture of love and anxiety. Live for your new found family. Live for me, Luke. Her voice resonated through his mind. Oh. No. Don't think of her. Not with him, that cruel shell, that Sith of a father, here, in my mind-

"Oh." No. The harsh voice took on the slightest tinge of surprise. "If you will not turn to the dark side, than perhaps she will-"

With a roar that hurt his lungs, and a dark frenzy he'd never felt, only heard about, he sprung out of the temporary hiding place and flung himself at Vader, sloppily igniting his lightsaber.

Sparks flew as red and green clashed in the cramped space. Luke's hatred forced Vader further back. Each stroke drove the Sith further and further towards defeat.

The Dark Lord was knocked to his knees, swaying for the slightest moment. As he raised his saber to block another onslaught, Luke slashed Vader's right hand off at the wrist, causing mechanical and electronic parts to fly up from the stump.

Vader's sword clattered uselessly away, over the edge of the platform and into the bottomless shaft below.

Luke moved closer, holding the bright green blade at the base of Vader's helmet .The Emperor watched with pleased, uncontrollable excitement.

The boy looked at his own mechanical hand, gripping the saber, and at his father's dismembered one. And in that moment, he realized just how much like his father he was becoming. He made the decision for which he had spent a lifetime in preparation- stepping back and hurling his lightsaber away.

"Never." Luke declared. "You've failed, your highness. I am a Jedi, like my father before me."

The Emperor's glee turned to rage. "So be it, Jedi."

Blinding bolts of energy, Sith lighting, flew at him. With no lightsaber to absorb the oncoming attack, Luke's hands flew up in front of his face. Even in his surprise, he tried to use the force to deflect the bolts. At first he was half successful, but after a moment the bolts of energy were coming with such speed and power he shrunk before them, his knees buckling. My wounded father struggled to his feet, and moved to stand at his master's side.

"Father!" Luke screamed, writhing helplessly. "Father, help me!"

He clutched a nearby canister for support to keep from falling down the bottomless shaft as the bolts tore through him. He was almost unconscious from the continuing assault of the Emperor's lightning.

I'm going to die, he thought.

And then it stopped.

He waited for the Emperor's taunts, but nothing came.

Hesitating, Luke opened his eyes, still curled up into the fetal position. He no longer saw the glow of the purple lightning, only heard an outraged gasp.

Gingerly, he got to his feet, prepared to fight. But even through the haze of pain he saw the blade of a violet lightsaber, Palpatine perched on it, and the form of his sister.

"Leia." He whispered under his breath. Wanting to run to his sister, to protect her, to embrace her, he tried to walk, but his still-shaking legs failed him. "Leia!" He said it again, clearer and louder.

She extinguished the saber. As if in wonder, or in shock, she turned slowly towards Luke, feet slow and unsure. "Luke?"

His sister neared him, and then he realized it was not his sister at all.

"Padme. Not Leia." She stared at him, eyes unseeing yet all-seeing, as if waiting for a response. When if became clear that he had no words, she clarified. "Your mother."