Being accident-prone, Luke was used to a lot of things. He was used to living life with at least one limb bound. He was used to crutches. And braces. And even the occasional prosthetic. In addition to physical impediments, he was used to painkillers, and medications, and even tranquilizers. He was even getting used to waking up somewhere he hadn't fallen asleep. More specifically, the hospital.

Waking up in an unfamiliar bed didn't worry him too much. Even the fact that he couldn't remember how he'd got there wasn't too worrying. That happened from time to time, what with concussions.

When he opened his eyes and found him looking at a dark ceiling, he began to feel that something was wrong. Hospitals were never dark. They were always blindingly white.

Groaning at the pain, he sat up, rubbing his head. He was alone in a dark room, with a bedside table beside him. On the table, someone had left some food.

Since the room was cold, and he was still tired and hungry, Luke curled up under the covers and started nibbling on his meal. When he'd finished some of it, he put the plate aside and dragged himself to his feet.

He had no idea where he was. He looked about the room for any signs or notes that might indicate where he was. Nothing showed itself, so he ventured to the closer of two doors. It led to a 'fresher. He closed the door and moved on to the second.

That one led to a hallway. Luke started down the hallway, his bare feet making no noise against the floor. The floor was cold! He wondered what had happened to his boots. They hadn't been beside the bed he'd woken up in. He started poking in doors, looking for them.

He could sense a person ahead of him. He was having trouble touching the Force, though, so he decided that the best way to determine the source was to find it.

At last, he opened a door and found a pair of his boots. They were unmistakably his, but as he reached for them, he saw several other pair sitting beyond them. Confused, he blinked at them a few times. They were as unmistakably his as the first pair. He took each one and looked inside to where he'd written his name. They all had his name, hidden under the same flap he always put it under. Beginning to wonder if he was having some bizarre dream, he chose the first pair and pulled them on.

He left the rest in the room. It wasn't as if the space would be missed. Most of the rooms he had looked into had been empty.

With nothing else to look for, he was able to make his way to the life-form much more quickly. As he neared it, the rooms seemed more lived-in. At last, he found the door leading to the person. As he neared it, it opened for him.

He entered a kitchen, in which there was a small table with two chairs. In one of the chairs sat a man. He had been eating a bowl of cereal and reading off of a datapad.

He looked up as Luke entered, and their eyes met.

"Father?" Luke asked, though in his heart he was absolutely certain of the man's identity.

"Good morning," Anakin responded as though there was nothing strange in the galaxy about their meeting.

"Why aren't you wearing your life-support suit? I mean- that should kill you, shouldn't it?"

Anakin smiled sarcastically, "Disappointed?"

"No! I'm just confused."

Anakin gestured to the chair opposite him, "Have a seat. You look like you're about to fall over."

Surely this couldn't be real! It was too natural, too perfect. The galaxy would never allow him to fulfil all his dreams in one shot, Luke thought wistfully. Well, if this was a dream… he was going to make the most of it.

He sat across from his father.

"No, I don't need to wear that suit. It's just a show my master insists on putting on. I was healed years ago," Anakin said.

Luke nodded, craning his neck to get a look at his father's datapad.

Anakin turned it around for him and showed the file. Luke started reading.

"This is yesterday's update?"

"Yeah, I was just a bit too busy saving you to read it at the time. Want to see today's?"

Luke nodded. His father took the datapad back and turned to the next news document for Luke.

Luke took it and started reading.

"You saved me from prison?"

"Yeah, Palpatine thought it would be brilliant to send you to prison while you were unconscious."

"What exactly knocked me out?"

"Stun bolt," Anakin answered. "I wanted you captured, but not harmed, so they stunned you. Then they mysteriously forgot the 'unharmed' part and turned you over to my master."

Luke nodded, still reading. He snorted.

"Hmm?" Anakin asked.

Luke covered his mouth with one hand, unable to speak for laughter and turned the datapad so his father could see, pointing to the part that had made him laugh.

Anakin smiled and nodded, turning away as if there was nothing odd about it.

"Declined comment?"

"I wasn't in the mood to slow down to let them question me about saving my son," Anakin said matter-of-factly.

"And where it says 'declined comment' I would be safe to assume that's not exactly how you phrased it?"

Anakin smiled taking a sip of his drink, "Maybe not exactly."

"What did you say?"

"I swore at them."

Luke laughed.

"I speak several languages."

Luke laughed again before pulling himself together enough to ask, "How long did it take?"

"Several minutes. I repeated some of the nastier words."

Luke laughed harder, but there was a sinking in his heart, "I really am just dreaming, aren't I?"

"No," Anakin said, looking confused, "What makes you think that?"

"Oh, just how perfect everything is. And how random," he added.

"Random?"

"You have a room full of my boots."

"Oh," Anakin looked slightly embarrassed, "Yes, well. That's been my way of taking care of you."

"Taking care of me?" Luke asked, mystified.

"I know you hate the Empire. I know that you won't willingly join me, so when I find you unconscious on the battlefields, I leave you. But I've seen trench foot, and I don't want that to happen to you."

"Oh," Luke said, cringing at the memory of the cautionary images he'd been shown.

"I guess it's kind of ridiculous to have taken to that one way of caring for you after everything I've done."

"A little bit, I guess. But I'm glad you did. Trench foot is nasty. And it means a lot to me that you've been caring for me at all."

Anakin smiled up at him, "I was hoping you'd be willing to stay here with me."

Luke looked around, feeling upset. It had been such a wonderful conversation until his father had brought that up.

"I'd like to."

"You feel obliged to return to your friends, don't you?" Anakin asked sadly.

Luke mumbled something inaudible, turning back to the datapad.

"I understand," Anakin continued, "There was a time there was more than one person in the galaxy I cared about."

Luke was trying to block him out. But as he reached the bottom of the article, the whole galaxy silenced itself. There was an image of himself in his father's arms, being carried away from prison. Anakin looked nothing short of furious, clearly clinging very tightly to Luke's body.

As he looked at the image, his mind was made up for him. If his father had only him to care for, if he would be leaving the other man alone by walking away, and if Anakin, his father, cared so deeply for him, there was only one possibly path of action.