Right. So I wrote this a long time ago and thought that it was good enough to publish. So yeah. Oh, and I don't own anything, except for Colwell.
Aboard Vader's ship the Executor, a young officer, one Lieutenant Colwell actually, walked through the metal halls, his footsteps echoing into the vast nothingness. No life was there, no one bustling form one place to another, no one completing an assignment for a higher officer. Nothing, but the footsteps of the unfortunate officer charged with the task of delivering the news to Darth Vader.
He had eventually reached the door he needed: the door to Vader's private chambers and office. He took a deep breath, which could be one of the last he would ever take and started to think about all of those things in life that he regretted. He showed his identification card to the locked door, and it seemed to consider letting him in or not. As he waited with baited breath, he was in the hopes that the door would consider him not worthy to go into the room, and thus a higher ranking officer would be needed, but the door crushed his spirits as it slid open with a hiss.
He took another breath and walked through the open door. It wasn't his first time there; the last time he had been there he had been a Private, charged with being the caretaker for an old colonel. Said colonel had actually been a very lively man, considering his near ninety years of age and seventy years in the army. Anyway, the man had been told to go to Vader to deliver some other news to him, the news had not been good, and the colonel had been Force choked. Vader had then yelled at Colwell to leave. He had done so gladly and spent a good 3 hours in the med lad as a rather chatty Med- droid mothered him and made remarks about how it wished Vader would stop terrifying people. It would save them a fortune on cookies.
He was here now to deliver the news that they had yet to find the Rebel pilot who had blown up the last Death Star. His feet found their way to the office and he rapped on the door.
He was contemplating the decision of whether never asking out Jolie Monroe was something he would regret when a harsh voice said, "Enter."
Colwell entered the room and saw Vader sitting at a desk, "What do you want?"
Colwell had very little courage and unfortunately for him is showed, not that his trembling helped him either, "My lord, I have the updates on the search for the Rebel pilot who had destroyed the Death Star."
If Vader's face could have been seen, Colwell would have seen an expectant look for him to continue, but as it was, Colwell couldn't see that. "And?" Annoyance in Vader's voice became very, very evident.
"I'm sorry, My Lord, but we haven't been able to find him." Now Colwell could practically feel the anger and frustration radiating off of Vader. Yep, definitely should have asked out Jolie; she was a pacifist and would have looked down upon him joining the army.
"Lieutenant!" Vader barked at him, "Tell your supervisor that if he doesn't have the identity of the Rebel pilot by tomorrow, he will have more to worry about than missing a deadline! Now leave!"
Colwell left quickly; glad to have escaped with his life. He decided to deliver the message, then spend a few hours in the Med- lab with cookies until his brain caught up with him with the knowledge that he was still alive.
A few machines were broken through the Force as Vader raged at the failure of the incompetent fools that he was sorry to call Imperials. He gasped slightly, his breathing becoming labored.
Vader was tired of dealing with issues that were not his responsibilities. He felt that the Empire had strayed from its original purpose and that now there only existed corruption. He felt that only he could bring balance, but he needed to have an apprentice at his side, so he could rule like his master. No. Better than his master.
Vader walked wearily to his medical chambers, he needed to be healed, or at least much as he could possibly be healed. He reached the medical center and laid down on the table, and then the chamber closed, pressurizing the room. It was the only place where he could live without the respirator. He waited for mechanical arms to remove his helmet and armor. Soon he was nothing more than a pitiful, broken man with more machine on him than flesh.
As the medical droids began their work, Vader drifted off into a state of sleep, his conscious unknowingly slipping into a vision…
He was outside, in a meadow actually. The sun was shining, the wind softly caressed the ground and plants that dwelled there. The black shape that was Vader stood in stark contrast with the beauty of his surroundings. It was not as if he could feel it anyway, vision or no vision. He would never feel the wind on his skin or the ground under his bare toes or the sun on his back. He scowled, Obi-wan had done this to him. He was to blame for his world of tinted red.
He walked around, trying to find a landmark, trying to find where he was. And then he saw it. It was the lake house on Naboo, where he and Padme had- No he couldn't think about her. Not now, not after all these years.
The vision was making him remember things that he would rather forget. He wanted to get out of it, but he had learned long ago that when the Force wanted to tell someone something, it must be important, and therefore, he could only let the vision play out.
He looked down into the valley and saw a family of four having a picnic. Two parents and two children: a son and a daughter. When he went close enough to see them more clearly, the son ran off into the meadow and the father, whose laughter reached his ears, ran off after him shouting a name that was lost in the wind.
He looked at the mother and daughter that remained, laughing at the boy's silliness. The girl had dark brown hair and brown eyes and reminded him of Princess Leia. The mother however… was Padme. His angel was sitting on the blanket, with her daughter across her lap, playing with Padme's hands. She looked happy and at peace… with his daughter. With Leia.
Vader now understood what this vision was. Not what was or would be, but what could have been. He could have had a family, but instead he fell from grace. Vader felt anger welling up inside his soul, anger from being ripped of the chance of true happiness.
There was a sudden rustle in the tall grass. Then the sound of feet, upon the ground. Little feet: child feet. It wasn't long before Vader found out who the feet belonged to. A little boy, no older than five was running in the grass, his arms stretched out, laughing as he ran. His anger ebbed a bit, as he recognized the boy. He stopped running and flopped himself upon the grass, his laughter coming out in short breaths.
Vader looked at the child and stared; it was as if he was looking into a mirror of his childhood self. The boy had blond hair and laughing blue eyes. His cheeks were red from running and a smile graced his lips as he stopped his laughter and he giggled every few moments.
The boy turned his head, looked straight at him and said brightly with no fear at all, "Hi!" Vader stared at the child, unable to get over his looks. Taking his silence as a sign of sadness, the child tried again, "Hi, my name's Luke, who are you?"
Vader was about to say something to the child when someone beat him to it, "Luke!" A figure, silhouetted by the sun, was approaching.
The child sat up, his face morphing into a beam as he answered, shouted really, "Daddy!" He shot to his feet and ran towards the darkened figure. The man crouched down to meet the blur that was his son and caught him in his arms, swinging him around and kissed him on the top of his head. Luke's father turned towards him and Vader felt himself go cold.
He was staring at Anakin Skywalker. Suit less, and unburned from Mustfar, he was a tall, muscular man, his blond hair turned to a honey color, and his blue eyes sparkling. "Luke," he gently scolded, "I told you not to run far."
Luke let his smile slip a bit, but he still had a happy look on his face, "I know Daddy, but we hardly ever come here, I just got exited."
Anakin just smiled at his son and said, "I know, I know." He noticed Vader and he asked warily, "Luke, who's your friend?"
Luke's beam returned, "I don't know, I just met him, I said 'Hi' but he hasn't answered me back yet."
"Luke," Anakin warned, "What have I told you about talking to strangers, especially since there are so many bad people in the world?"
"But he's not a stranger, I know him from somewhere," he looked at Vader, "There's good in him I can feel it."
"Luke…" was the only thing that Vader had a chance to say to the boy he knew to be his son.
Vader awoke in the medical center, his body healed enough for one day. He returned to his private bedroom and stared at the wall. Luke… his son… Leia, the princess, was his daughter. His children. One was still alive, but he didn't know about the other until an almost absurd thought hit him and he realized…
The Force sensitive pilot…
Vader's so- called home was destroyed as he raged at the lies that Palpatine had fed him. He was not alone. His family was still there. His son and his daughter were alive. And Palpatine would pay.