Title: Antithesis of Reality
Author: angelgidget (aka Christy S)
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst, Drama
Setting: AU of ROTJ
Characters: Luke, Vader, Leia (Han gets the non-speaking part)
Summary: Darth Vader never knew indecision until that fateful day aboard the 2nd Death star. One time can cost ya.
Disclaimer: The Great Flannelled-one owns the GFFA. I don't have a stitch of the stuff in my closet.
A/N: My first attempt a Luke & Vader centric fic.
ANTITHESIS OF REALITY
"Father...Please!"
He hears the call and answers. Looking between his master and his child, he snatches the living corpse and hurls it into an electric grave at the core of the grim construction. In an instant, the monster is dead. He breathes his last breaths of clear air for the first time in twenty years. The last thing he sees before he dies is his child's tearful face full of love, hope, and life.
Sith lords do not dream.
Yet the vision is dream-like in its innocence, its delusion. That was how it should have been. That was a world where a man who was unfamiliar with hesitation remained unfamiliar with it. That is beauty, fantasy...the antithesis of reality.
He stares into the fire. It was fire that let him say goodbye to his old body, his old life. It is fire that lets him part with the body of his son. He used to fear the flame, but as he sets the pyre ablaze, he finds that his old phobia has vanished. He knows that if the red tears were to lick at his cloak, he would be too weary to stop them. He would allow them to consume and devour at will, as though they were the embodiment of the Force itself.
He was too late. He is not certain how long he vacillated between in son and his slaver; He simply knows that he made the decision too late. By the time his desire to save his family grew clear, the boy's body had been burned beyond repair. Seeing his son's weakened state, he fought Palpatine with his lightsaber, hoping to avoid the lighting to save his respirator. He needed to survive. Luke was too weak to escape without him.
When the ancient Sith master's body was finally cut in twain, he ran to the boy's side. For the first time in forever, Lord Vader screamed. His child was dying, and no power wielded by Jedi or Sith could save him.
He was seized by the sudden impulse to lift his mask, as he had in the vision, and gaze upon Luke's face. But he was not likely to survive such an act, and how could he make Luke watch him die? The youth's eyes were barely open--weak and growing weaker--but they retained that love and melancholy hope that tugged so hard at the dark lord's heart. He lifted Luke in his arms, careful of his own truncated hand.
He waded through the chaotic mess that was the Death Star II. He laid his precious cargo on a table on his personal shuttle. Vader then set course for the forest moon. Luke would not survive the journey, but his final moments should be spent returning to his friends. His final moments...
In the sterilized purity of his private vehicle, Lord Vader removed the countenance so well-known by the galaxy. It was difficult with one hand, which only frustrated him further. A sudden sense of urgency took him then, a miasma in which the only things he was aware of were the terrible slowness with which he moved, and the ever-weakening pulse of Luke's blood.
Then the mask was off, and the urgency ended. The med-screen read flat-line.
Vader then saw the world as he had only seen it a lifetime ago. He had removed his mask before, certainly, but he had never opened his eyes. Mask-removal was critical for cleaning and other such necessities. But he had never before opened his eyes. He had only wanted to see the world as Vader. To open his eyes would be to see the world as his old self had seen it. So he had never opened his eyes...until then.
The boy--no--the young man's face was serene in death. Familiar dark-blonde locks rested over his brow. The peaceful lines of his face were reminiscent of his beautiful mother, while his combination of form and coloring spoke again of his dual heritage. Queen and Slave. Senator and Jedi. Gentleness and Courage.
Donning his mask and helmet once again, Darth Vader prepared to land. He began to feel the shock wear off as the first stirrings of guilt and fear began to set in. She was here. Somehow, she knew that he was coming; she knew about Luke; she knew...and she blamed him.
When the ship landed, the dark lord prepared to carry his son's body down the ramp. He was not ready to face her. If he had ever wronged his son--as he obviously had--then he had wronged his daughter a hundred times over. He had always left the presence of Princes Leia Organa with a vague sense of familiarity. Now, there would be no avoiding the stark comparison. She had Padmé's hair, Padmé's eyes, even Padmé's very posture...but all of his own fury. There was no escape.
She came to him practically unarmed, with only the Correlian trailing behind her. He was confused and worried; She was on the edge of losing control. The Captain seemed shocked and horrified to see his friend's corpse being carried by a Sith. The Princess bore no surprise at all...her despair and her rage provided emotion aplenty.
"You! How could you? He trusted you, and thought you could change! And you couldn't even keep him alive!"
Her words were like poison seeping into his shattered soul.
She took Luke's body from his arms and held it close, as she fell to the ground. Ragged voice sobbing into the breath-devoid chest, slim fingers running through dark-gold curls. His body betrayed what he had suffered. His cheek bore the burn-scars of electrocution, the injuries trailed down his neck into his shirt collar, leaving the majority of his wounds veiled from crying eyes.
The Sith could hear her thoughts, not due to any intruding on his part, but because she screamed her sorrow in her own mind.
Luke, Luke, how could you leave us? I'm only just beginning to understand how precious you are to me, brother, and you desert me...
Lord Vader had never seen the princess like this before. She had always been proud and strong, even when she lost her entire world. But this was new. Her pain mirrored his, for she felt her twin become one with the Force. Vader wanted to reach out and comfort her as a father should, but perhaps it was best that she remain unaware that he knew her true identity. She did not have the forgiveness in her heart that Luke did, and some things were simply better left unsaid. He could never address her as father, but perhaps he could address her as friend of friend.
"His death was not in vain. The former Emperor Palpatine is dead, and I have left the Empire and the path of the Sith. Henceforth, the Alliance shall receive nothing but aid from me."
The instant he said it, he knew it was so. She looked at him then, truly looked at him. The knowledge that Luke succeeded in his final task was cold comfort, but it was something.
"You're telling the truth."
An agreement. A bridge. Finally.
"I cannot risk staying the night, but I can guide you through his final ceremony. It is the only thing I can do for him here and now."
He looks across the burning pyre into his daughter's eyes. She stares into the fire. Her expression is as dead as her brother's body. He hopes that by some mercy of the Force, he may see joy in her eyes one day. He knows she will be protected.
The Correlian stands a short distance away. He doesn't understand the Jedi ceremony. He doesn't see the rightness of a rebel princess and a former Sith setting fire to a Jedi's final resting place. He only knows that this is the burial of his best friend, and he will not miss it.
The once-dark Lord looks out onto the flame. It burns bright in the forest night, a beacon signaling promises rendered and kept. He is neither Jedi nor Sith, and he dreams a pleasant dream in which he is dead and his child is alive. He turns towards his lonely shuttle. He has a great deal of work to do: retribution for his countless sins. He will make the sacrifices the Alliance asks of him whether by blood or tears. While he performs each task, he will fantasize of his own end...of a happier version of his family's story.
FIN
