Luke strained as he hefted his father's powerful bulk, pulling the much larger man up the ramp to the nearest berth located in the back of the ship. Taking him under his arms, he tried to manually lift his father onto the bed. The jostling proving too much for the older man's already broken body, he groaned painfully. "Easy now," Luke said, lying him down. Ignoring the pain in his neck and back, he rummaged in the bulk head, pulling out whatever medical supplies were available. Emergency rations, blankets, bacta patches and an oxygen mask.
A hand reached up, weakly brushing Luke's arm before falling again.
"Don't try to speak." Luke urged softly. "You need to conserve your strength."
His father was fading, growing weaker with every laboured breath. He needed immediate medical care. A sudden shockwave shook the ship, causing Luke to almost lose his balance, colliding into the side of the ship. He grunted in pain.
"Son!" Anakin yelped, panicked. He managed to righten himself, ignoring the still throbbing pain in his body. "I'm alright," he lied, more concerned for the older man. "Just hang tight," he told him, securing him down before rushing to the cockpit. Slowly, the ship began to take off, Luke trying not to look at the debris falling and burning around them.
"Hold on!" He yelled, bracing as the final shockwave propelled them from the hanger and into the void of space, the doomed station finally exploding into flames. Breathing deep in relief, he put his head in his hands, suddenly drained as the events of the past day finally caught up with him.
"Luke..." his father's voice brought him from his thoughts. He hurried to the back of the shuttle to where the old man lay. "Hey," he said, kneeling by his side as he took hold of his hand. "How are you feeling?'
Anakin shook his head, wearily. "I...don't know." He didn't know how he was feeling or how was supposed to feel.
"Tired?" Luke asked, concerned as he looked over the complex life-support system his father depended on to live, a life saving system which was now killing him. A long, low exhale came from the mask. "I'm always tired, son."
"You're going to be okay." He reassured, squeezing his hand. "I promise."
When the his father's breathing continued to worsen, becoming more laboured and strained, he knew what needed to be done next.
"This needs to come off," he muttered, gesturing to the fearsome mask. If his father was so have a chance of survival, the mask would need to be removed. Damaged beyond repair, it only caused the old man to further pain.
"Luke...no..." Anakin's voice held a hint of wariness.
"Do you trust me?" He asked his father. The older man remained silent. "Father, do you trust me?" He asked again, gentler. This time, he have a single, weak nod. "I do."
Luke reached down, his hands finding the clasps that connected helmet to the faceplate; he pried with his thumbs, watching the older man's chest as he gasped and heaved, the sound becoming a distorted crackle through the microphone in his visor.
He slowly parted the segments of the helmet, setting the pieces aside as he unmasked the monster, as though he was finally giving a face to the fears of so many who had stood against the might of this terrible warrior. Luke felt the nervous lump in his throat quiver as he removed his father's faceplate.
The face that looked up at him was one he could never have imagined. Pale, chalk white skin, like that of a man long dead; a hairless head dressed with deep, raised contusions that sat almost open, those eyes, those ice coloured eyes, milky with cataracts, pupils small and pin pointed, as though they cut right though him with the unfocused stare that met his eyes. He couldn't help but shiver when he looked into those eyes, the eyes of a corpse, yet somehow, this man still lived.
Everything seemed silent as his stare remained fixed on those milky, far away eyes. In spite of everything that had happened between them, everything they stood for, one thing was consistent in his mind when he thought of Darth Vader; he saw power. Seeing him like this, the fight taken from him in this one, great act of self sacrifice robbed the man of both the fear he wielded with great precision but also of the strength he possessed.
Quickly reaching for the oxygen mask, he slipped it gently over his father's head. Something shone in his father's blue eyes. Tears.
"Thank you," was all he could manage as father and son shared their first, real smile.
"You should try to rest," Luke suggested, standing. "We'll be with the Alliance soon." Anakin nodded, old eyes starting to drift shut. Exhausted, the former Sith fell into a deep sleep. After insuring his oxygen levels were stable, he returned to the cockpit, his own legs finally giving out.
We'll be with the Alliance soon.
He kicked himself. Was that meant to be a comfort? He was no fool, his compassion aside. He knew his father was a dangerous man and now one of the most wanted in a galaxy. A murderer and a war criminal, he knew what awaited him once they returned to Home One, but what other choice did he have? Ignoring his father's pleas to let him die, he couldn't.
The sooner he contacted them, the better. Taking the ships comlink, he sent a message to the remaining rebel fleet; "Come in, anyone out there. This is Commander Skywalker, repeat, this is Commander Skywalker. I've taken possession of an Imperial Lamba Class Shuttle, identification code ST-312. I have a wounded passenger aboard, requesting immediate medical attention. Repeat, immediate medical attention."
He set the com down, covering his mouth as he waited for someone to answer, anyone. He didn't know how much longer his father would be able hold out. The com whirred to life then, a crackled voice coming through; "This is Redemption. Commander Skywalker, do you copy?"
Luke grabbed the com, relief rushing through him. "Yeah, I copy! I have a seriously wounded passenger aboard, requesting immediate medical attention."
"We're sending you our coordinates. Medical personnel will be waiting."
"Copy that." He threw the com down, rubbing a hand tiredly over his face. He felt like he could sleep for a week. When he received the coordinates, he only prayed that he could come up with a good explanation as he prepared for lightspeed. The journey through hyperspace was quicker than Luke would have liked, still having no idea how he was going to explain how he was bringing one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy aboard for medical attention.
Now greeted with the massive cruiser, the com again came to life. "Commander Skywalker. This General Daros. Proceed to main docking bay. Medical staff are waiting for you."
"Thank you, sir." Suppressing the nerves in his stomach, he guided the shuttle into the designated hanger bay where a team of medics were waiting with a gurney. He kept his distance as they rushed in, watching as they lifted the unconscious man, securing a more complex mask to his face before he was hastily wheeled from the shuttle.
He followed a few steps behind, watching as they wheeled him away. It was only then did they catch his eye. As he walked he saw others, ship's engineers, military personnel, shuttle guards, all watching the prone figure being pushed away.
He averted his eyes, keeping focus on his father as he heard the hushed voices, saw the mixture of fear and excitement in their gaze.
Luke widened his gait to walk side by side with the gurney, watching his father lie there. As he watched, he noticed him shifting on the journey, the wheels moving quickly from side to side as they moved. He looked to the cause, a young paramedic, a tremor in his grip.
The young medic looked up, his eyes catching Luke's before averting his gaze, clenching the rail to steady himself.
They moved quicker, the old man moving as he lay, not yet stirring. As they boarded the elevator to take them three floors up to the med-bay, he began to shake violently. The medics looked to each other, Luke watching as he began to cough and splutter, casting moisture into the air, eyes starting to tear.
"What's going on?" Luke asked, growing increasingly concerned. The medics held his shoulders to steady him as he writhed. His life support was rapidly diminishing.
"He's not getting any air, a blockage?" One of the medics asked, increasing his oxygen supply.
"We'll need to create a new passage." Interjected the youth, reaching into his scrubs to produce a scalpel. He moved in, levelling the blade at his throat that was now bared, his head pushing back as he fought for breath. Luke reached out, grabbing the young man by the wrist.
"I asked what's going on?" Luke asked, suppressing the panic in his voice. "What are you going to do?"
"I need to make an incision. He's choking."
"He has equipment to help him breathe, it's damaged. You're not cutting him!"
"Commander Skywalker, please!" Another urged, reaching over his father to pull his attention from the youth. "We won't cut him. He may settle, but I need you to calm down. This isn't helping him."
Luke watched the men all looking at him, could feel the young man's arm shaking in his grasp which had tightened involuntarily. He let go quickly, realising which hand he had held him with.