Sum: Vader survived ROTJ simply because Luke refused to take off his mask until an oxygen mask was handy. A shaky truce forms between the Alliance and Empire. Will it hold when Luke, the catalyst, is slowly dying from the after-effects of Palpatine's torture?
Note: Fanfic authors have a tendency to focus on Vader's miraculous turn to the Light and think he's good from then on out. But it's a lot easier to be "good" when you're about to die. Since Vader doesn't die in ROTJ in this fic, it's a longer struggle to "goodness." And Luke isn't quite sure completely, blindly, utterly trusts his father yet, since he is an adult and a Rebel, not a just Vader's son. It's a long road to recovery on all sides.
(And my oh-so-important reason for writing this? Closure. I need a happy—or maybe just satisfying, no promises— ending.)
Catalyst
Death Star
"Please, Luke..."
"No. Stop that. Hang on, father."
Vader coughed—no, Anakin Skywalker coughed—and struggled weakly as Luke dragged him to an Imperial shuttle. "I'm dying, Luke," he pleaded. "Take my mask off. I want to see your face just once with my own eyes..."
Luke's arms shook violently from the Emperor's lightning torture effects. Still, with extreme force of will (or perhaps Force of will, he joked silently; his fate had seemed pushy of late) he hoisted his father up over the shuttle steps.
"My last request, Luke. Please. My son and daughter live. My life is complete."
Sweat glistened on Luke's neck. "Mine won't be," he said tightly, "if you die. Hold on and fight! Stay with me!"
A dull boom sounded in the distance, and the floor bucked under their feet. The second Death Star was nearing its infantile death.
Luke forced himself to move faster, pulling his father along the floor to the shuttle's emergency medical supplies. He assessed the supplies in a glance. There's a med capsule, but it's at waist height: I'll never be able to lift him up to it, he thought despairingly. There's an oxygen tank and a gurney, that'll have to do it for now. Another explosion rocked the floor. Or just the oxygen.
"Luke!" his father rasped. "Please..."
With shaking fingers, Luke pulled the O2 mask from the med capsule. The cord was barely long enough to reach Vader. Anakin. His father. Luke released the catches on his father's mask and pulled it off, quickly replacing the respirator with the oxygen mask. Anakin stopped him and raised his gloved hand to Luke's face.
"My son..."
"No time for that," Luke said briskly, yet gently. Luke hardly glanced at the horrific scars on Vader's face as he strapped on the O2 mask, effectively silencing his father.
Anakin gestured wildly. Luke ignored him, refusing to give up and just let his father die, as he improvised a sort of seatbelt. And then Anakin crossed his hands weakly over his throat, the universal "choking" sign.
"You can't breathe!"
Anakin shook his head slightly.
Luke almost cried. "What can I do? What can I do? I can't—"
Anakin made a twisting motion and stared at the oxygen tank he was hooked up to.
Desperately, Luke twisted the oxygen count on the tank to a higher percentage. Anakin relaxed and Luke's heart almost stopped. "Father?"
After the longest moment, Anakin nodded.
Luke sighed and his knees slackened with relief. He forced himself upright. "Hang on. I'm going to fly us out of this mess." Luke stumbled away to the Imperial shuttle's controls.
Please. Please oh please oh please, Force don't let me black out now...
It was almost as if in his Force awareness, he could hear the faintest countdown. A timer. Eight. . .seven. . .
"I cannot pass out now," Luke mumbled. His body didn't seem to agree with him. The adrenaline from confronting the Emperor had worn away and left him shaking from the lightning torture. It told him to shut down and recuperate.
Six. . .
I'm far enough away from the Death Star, right? Luke couldn't tell. The Force screamed danger and death. From all sides.
I can't die now. I've finally found everything.
Five. . .
My friends are alive and safe. My father is alive and my father. I can't let him die. He's only just found everything...
Four.
"Please." He pushed at the controls, pleading. The Imperial shuttle couldn't move any faster. It was already whining and shaking at its extremities. "I'm at peace. I'm ready for whatever takes me. But he has a chance. He can redeem himself! Please!" He felt as if he was praying to a deity.
Two.
Luke reached out to his father, conveying every scrap of conviction and love and pure Light he could push in one moment.
One.
Endor
It was a pretty explosion, Han had to admit. The Death Star beat fireworks any day. Especially when small chunks hit the atmosphere and flamed. But it wasn't so pretty when you knew most of your close friends were watching the show from a front row seat.
"I'm sure he's all right." Empty words.
"I. . .know he is. I can feel it," she said half-wonderingly. She stared up at the sky. Han didn't descend to sappy poetry very often, but he could have sworn her lips, at that moment, looked like celestial roses raised to the sun.
"You love him, don't you?"
"Of course," she said, surprised.
Well, this is the hardest choice I've ever had to make, but it's her happiness and I swear I've never loved anyone like her. Again, sappy. But true. Han mumbled something about not getting in their way or something like that, he wasn't quite sure. It was a sacrifice, stang it all, and he couldn't even say it clearly.
She laughed at his expression. "Han, Luke's my brother."
He gaped. She smiled and leaned in to kiss him.
Yes, exactly like roses, his sappy side said, but the rest of Han didn't listen.
Space
Luke's head was shunted forward and back, almost causing whiplash. He hit his head on the control board. The stolen Imperial shuttle tumbled like a leaf in the wind from the Death Star's energy wave. Luke managed to get it back under control and headed toward Endor.
'Are you all right?' Luke asked silently.
'Fine.' A terse reply. Vader was angry about something, or tired, or both. Luke didn't investigate; he was just relieved Vader could 'talk' at all.
'How are the straps holding up? Did the explosion hurt anything—?'
'No.'
Luke tentatively reached out and sent mental support, nothing like the powerful surge he'd sent earlier, but still a comfort. He felt Vader draw away from his touch. Luke fought down his negative reaction; that was of the dark side.
'I'm heading toward Endor. There'll be more medical supplies there and I don't think I can fly this shuttle straight for long.'
No reply. A flash of repressed rage.
Luke ran a hand over his face. At least he's alive. At least he saved me. There will be more time to fix this. It's just going to take time. He reached for the communication board.
"This is Commander Luke Skywalker to Alliance. Repeat, this is Commander..."
Endor
The celebration was in full swing. Little Ewoks showed a spicy side, banging out music (with stormtrooper helmets as drums) that fit a techrock concert. A few of the Alliance troops had landed on Endor to enjoy the victory dances.
Leia slow-danced with Han, letting him twirl her to his heart's desire. It's the only dance move he can actually pull off, she thought with a smile.
"Han, Leia! I've got a message from Luke," Lando called as he made his way through the dancers.
"So the kid's alive? Good. I'm going to give him such a hiding for scaring me like that. . ." Han growled. Leia felt his clenched muscles under her hands, muscles she hadn't realized were tense, relax.
"He needs medical supplies, he says, and he's landing on the south side," Lando continued. "He stole an Imperial shuttle."
"Medical supplies?" Han started running.
"It must be serious." Leia bit her lip and followed.
Luke landed the shuttle on the Endor "docking bay" and sighed. His hands shook badly. Fumbling with the harness, he stood up and headed to his father.
Something blurred his vision. He pressed a hand to his forehead and was surprised to see red as he drew away. I must have cut my forehead during the explosion. The whiplash effect; he'd hit his head on the control board, hadn't he?
"Father?" he called. He reached out in the Force and felt Vader draw back. I'm thinking of him as Vader again. That's not a good sign.
Luke opened the medical bay door and finally actually saw the man behind the mask. During the Death Star escape he'd been in a frenzy to fly out and hadn't noticed the extent of the scarring and damage on his father's face. Vader was pale, of course, from never seeing the sun for who knew how many years. Two thick red crescents curved underneath his eyes, from exhaustion and his violent passions. "Violent passions"? Luke asked of himself. I thought I was over this. He'd forgiven Vader. No, he'd forgiven his father. Vader was another story.
He stared up at Luke.
"Are you alright?" Luke knelt down beside his father. He breathed carefully, so aware of how easy it was for him and not his father who relied on one mask after another.
'You're shaking,' his father sent. Luke detected no trace of the earlier dark emotions. 'You're bleeding.'
'I'll be fine. I'm more worried about you,' he sent back.
'You should not be.'
"Are you. . ." Luke coughed and wiped his forehead. ". . .you're not — dying — are you? Not anymore."
'No.' His father was a mix of indescribable emotions, some dark, some light.
"I'm so relieved." Luke smiled. "I'm so relieved."
"Luke!" Leia rushed forward and grabbed Luke around the middle. She breathed in his scent and let go. "Are you injured? We brought medical supplies..." She stopped as she took in his face. "You're bleeding."
"Oh, it's not bad," he said offhandedly. "You have the supplies?"
"Luke, how hurt—"
"Yes, I have the supplies," Han growled, only just arriving on the 'docking platform.' (Leia had arrived first; she ran faster.) "Kid, don't ever scare me like again."
"Love you too, Han." Luke embraced him. "Now, I really need those—"
"Right here, Luke," Lando said, coming up and clasping Luke's shoulder. "Now lie right down and tell us where you're leaking lifeblood, because I know it has to be serious if you're actually asking for meds."
"It's not for me," Luke said exasperatedly. "I have...well, I guess you could say...I have a passenger."