Chapter Eleven: A Time To Love
Anakin was a Jedi. An exceptionally good one. He could take care of himself.
Luke knew this, but he still found himself worrying about him. Even knowing he was with another Jedi who could watch his back did nothing to ease Luke's fears.
"He should have been here by now," Luke muttered to Leia, agitated.
"They'll be here, Luke. Just be patient," Leia replied soothingly, but she was worried, too. He could see it in her troubled brown eyes.
He began to pace. "Something's wrong. He doesn't answer when I call."
It took her a moment to recall the strong bond her father and brother shared. "Maybe he's busy."
Luke stopped. "He always answers. No matter what. He'd at least sent a feeling of acknowledgment." He stared off in into the distance as he repeated, "He always answers."
He turned his head, eyes boring into hers. "The last time he didn't answer," he said, his voice so low she had to strain to hear him, "was when he died."
At long, long last, an Imperial shuttle appeared in the distance, skimming Vjun's surface in a search pattern. Luke and Leia rushed out of the Falcon, the four older Jedi on their heels, deaf to Han and Chewie's words of caution. Their not-quite-frantic waving brought the ship to the ground, and they had mobbed it before it had settled.
A black-haired woman was waiting just inside the door. She fell into the arms of her comrades, but her face was carefully blank. Luke and Leia made to push past her, but she grabbed their hands and, without saying a word, led them to Anakin's side.
Leia cried out at the sight of Anakin's prone form; Luke went white. The twins dropped to their knees at their father's side as Starstone called for a medical team. They begged and pleaded for him to wake up, but Anakin's breathing only grew even shallower and more erratic.
When the paramedics finally arrived and took Anakin to the med bay, Leia and Luke stayed where they were, unable to believe that the greatest warrior of them all had finally fallen.
Leia was the first to break down. She buried her face in Luke's shoulder, the tears that were streaming down her cheeks soaking through his shirt to land hotly on his skin. He held her close as her petite form shook. "I never told him that I loved him," she sobbed.
The medical team worked for hours, but they were only local healers, without the knowledge or technology to deal well with such severe wounds. Anakin's prognosis was not good, even with the healing trance the Jedi had managed to place him in.
"You must seriously consider putting him out of his misery," the medic insisted to Han, his back to Luke and Leia, who were sitting worriedly at Anakin's bedside. Han, however, had a clear view of the devastated twins.
"That's not an option," Han snapped tightly.
"He'll die in a few hours, anyway; it's a miracle he's lasted this long. You're only prolonging the inevitable," the medic pressed.
"I said it's not an option. Surely there's a more competent doctor around here than you," Han bit out.
The medic's lips thinned. "Take him up to Bast," he advised, anger clipping his voice. "If he survives the journey, Lord Vader's physician can tell you the same thing I have." He brushed past Han, his nose in the air, and left the makeshift medical bay.
A cold, heavy weight settled in Han's gut. His entire body rebelled against the thought of marching into Darth Vader's private residence, but a glance at his stricken princess and her brother gave him no choice. "Bast," he muttered, and left to find Chewie and the Jedi.
"Bast?" Luke said incredulously. "Han, they'll shoot us on sight!"
"Relax, kid," Han said, though he didn't feel any better about the whole affair than Luke did. "We'll just keep your old man in plain sight. He's their boss, they'll let him in."
"They won't even recognize him without the suit," Luke argued. "He came here a few months ago; he had to use a secret door and multiple applications of the Force to get in and out alive!"
Several swearwords ran through Han's head, but all he said was, "Just trust me on this one."
"I hate it when you say that, Han," Luke replied, his brow furrowed with worry. "I really do."
They skimmed Vjun's surface for two hours before stopping at Bast Castle. Han set the Falcon down in a small grove of trees, and it was quickly agreed that Chewie would stay with the ship. Han, Luke, and Leia would accompany Anakin to Bast.
They fretted the whole way to Bast's outer wall, guiding the anti-grav stretcher bearing Anakin between them. After what seemed like a millennium, they were close enough to make out the sentries, the guards posted at the bridge, and the pretty young maid bringing them rations to sustain them until the end of their watch.
And they were close enough for the sentries to see them.
A cry echoed through the deepening twilight. And suddenly all weapons present were aimed at Han and the Skywalkers. "You there! Halt and state your business!"
Eying the blaster rifles, Han called back, "Look, we've got an injured Darth Vader here --"
A roar of fury rippled among the men. "You lie!" the leader snarled. "That pitiful creature is as far from my lord as it is possible to get!" He gestured at his men. "Shoot --"
"Wait!"
All the Imperials turned to look at the maid with surprise, but she was too busy staring at Luke to notice. "You. You're Lord Vader's son, aren't you?"
The sentries recoiled, horrified that they had nearly shot their lord's son. Luke nodded uncertainly.
The maid smiled. "You look like him." The smile faded as she focused on Anakin. "Come inside," she said. "I'll meet you there."
They met no more resistance after that, and true to her word, the maid was waiting for them. "I'm Briar," she introduced herself. She moved to stand by Anakin's side. She studied his face for a moment, then tentatively reached out to brush a couple of stray curls off his forehead. "I caught him breaking in a few months ago," she explained. "He promised he'd be back, but he did say he'd comm first." She tried to smile, but it fell flat.
Turning, she beckoned them to follow her. "Let's get him settled in his room. I've already called for the physician. He'll meet us there."
The doctor, Polor, was an ordinary looking man who could easily fade into any background he chose. However, he did have a very soothing aura. Luke felt himself relaxing thirty seconds after Polor entered the room, and he wasn't even the patient.
"What have you done to yourself now, my lord?" Polor murmured as he bent over Anakin's still frame.
At that moment, Jix and Piett burst through the door, breathless. "Uncle D?" Jix gasped, gulping air.
"Don't worry, I've brought him back from worse," Polor assured him. Luke could hardly believe that, but he let the physician work. Instead he turned his attention to Jix and Piett. He'd been so worried about Anakin he hadn't even noticed they were not with the rest of the group.
"We hotwired an Imperial fighter," Piett explained, answering Luke's silent question.
"Yeah, Solo's bucket of bolts was full, what with those Jedi and all," Jix added.
Han glared at the insult to the Falcon and asked, "So where have you been? It's been hours."
"Here," Jix replied. "When Uncle D said we'd meet on Vjun, he didn't mean out in the middle of nowhere, you know."
He took in their blank faces. "Apparently you didn't know," he said under his breath.
Piett took over. "We were asleep in Jix's suite for the longest time. The commotion over your arrival woke us up, and when we heard what had happened, we came as fast as we could."
"Polor can fix him," Jix said with assurance. "He's even brought him back from a lightsaber wound to the gut, right, Polor?"
The doctor nodded absently, concentrating on his task.
Han was staring at Jix as if he'd suddenly sprouted a second head. "You have a suite here?"
"Vader's off-the-record right-hand man, remember?" Jix reminded him. "He couldn't leave me out in the cold, but he couldn't exactly put me up in 500 Republica, either. So he let me live here. I've got my own landing pad and everything."
Han's eyes narrowed. "So you didn't have to risk getting your head blown off trying to get in here."
Jix snorted. "Of course not. How utterly ridiculous."
"Indeed," Han gritted out.
When he was finished, Polor shooed them all out so that Anakin could rest and heal in peace. They trooped back to Jix's suite to await news of the consciousness Polor had promised Anakin would regain soon.
In five minutes, they were all fast asleep.
Leia wasn't sure how long she slept, but no one else was awake yet. She left the room soundlessly, meaning to wander aimlessly around the castle in hopes of relaxing enough to get back to sleep, but her feet carried her straight to Anakin's bedside.
His breathing was deep and steady again, and his face was once again coloured healthily. Sleep eased the lines around his eyes and mouth and smoothed his forehead peacefully. He slept innocently, like a child, and in the darkness he looked younger than she was.
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, staring straight into her own. She jumped at the unexpected movement.
"Sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse. He tried to sit up and winced. Suddenly angry, Leia pushed him back down firmly, almost roughly, and sprang to her feet.
"How could you?" she cried, not exactly sure why she was upset. "You know how much I – we need you! You can't just go around throwing yourself in front of blaster bolts!"
"It's not something I do intentionally," he replied, watching her pace. "It's an occupational hazard, one I accepted long ago. I'm not invincible, Leia."
She stopped pacing and turned to face him, looking ready to collapse. "You should be." She lay on the bed beside him, her head resting on his chest, careful not to jar his wound. "I'm not ready for you to die."
"You're not all-powerful, Ani."
"Well, I should be!"
Anakin shoved the memory aside and held his daughter close, stroke her back soothingly as she sobbed her anger and worry away.
Finally she sighed, exhausted by her own tears. Her hand curled around the folds of his shirt, like a toddler clinging to her father as he carried her. "I love you, Daddy," she told him drowsily. "I almost missed my chance to tell you, and I really want you to know."
"I know, angel," he said, blinking back tears of his own. She called me Daddy. "And I love you, too."
Still cuddled together, they fell asleep again.
"Is this everything, Lord Vader?" Briar asked a few days later. Anakin was finally well enough to travel, and it was time for them to return to the Alliance.
"Yes, thank you," Anakin replied, moving around to check the engine of the ship they were preparing, a Nubian transport from his personal collection.
Leia followed him. In accepting him and his past as part of her heritage, she could now talk about his history much more candidly. "Why don't you ask them to call you Anakin, or Commander, or – something."
He studied the motor and replied, "They're comfortable calling me Vader."
"But you aren't Vader anymore."
Anakin sighed and leaned against the side of the ship, facing his daughter. "Leia, you can call it a different name if you want, but I am Vader. He is me. He's not dead, angel; he never will be. He's just under control now. I have been getting angry since the day I was born and I will continue to get angry until the day I die." He paused, then kept going. "Vader's existence was one of sorrow, self-hate, and anger at fate for doing this to me. It's not a time of my life that I'm proud of, but I feel that by saying Vader doesn't exist I'm ignoring the past. And that is the greatest disservice I could ever do to all the lives Vader – I – affected."
She nodded slowly. "I can understand that. It does make sense, in a way."
Anakin grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "Glad you approve, angel. Now get over here and give your old man a hand."
Chewie grabbed Anakin in an enthusiastic hug and howled at him. Anakin grinned.
"I'm too stubborn to die," he told the Wookiee. "Too damn obstinate to get myself killed properly."
"That's perfectly alright," Luke informed him, his eyes still bright with relief over his father's good health. "I'd like to have you around awhile yet." Chewie agreed empathetically.
Still smiling, Anakin commed Olee Starstone, travelling with her friends aboard the Nubian starship. "All set?" he asked.
"On your mark, Master Skywalker," she replied cheerfully. She and her comrades had agreed to be the first Jedi of the New Order, and when Starstone had hinted that the son of Anakin's friend Nejaa was still alive, he had made a mental note to look for the boy -- well, man now, he supposed. He was older than Luke and Leia.
"Great." Anakin nodded at Han. "Let's go home."