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CHAPTER TWELVE
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Luke entered the wide space of the darkened storage bay without slowing, eyes briefly skipping across its neatly stacked contents then coming to rest on its single inhabitant, who stood at the far side of the bay, his back to the room. Palpatine didn't turn in acknowledgment, attention on the whorl of radiance beyond the viewport, where sluggish light slurred compared to the Star Destroyer's hyperspace velocity. They were barely a day from Fondor now, but it seemed an odd time to be summoned by his Master—and an odd location.
Palpatine remained still though he must know that Luke had entered, his straight back and wide shoulders silhouetted by the rush of luminosity hurled against the ship's shields in lightspeed. Luke slowed to a wary stop ten paces away, waiting.
His Master wore a black, stand-collared shirt and military-cut trousers, neither jacket nor cloak hiding his physique. The shoulders of that powerful frame flexed just slightly as his head lifted a fraction, his voice so cuttingly familiar by comparison. "It is customary to bow to your Emperor."
"You're not the Emperor yet." Though his voice had been quiet and without challenge, the words were anything but, and he knew it—couldn't believe he'd said it out loud. He tensed in anticipation…
Palpatine didn't even turn, his reply calm and collected. "It is also tradition for a Sith advocate to bow to the Master who taught him."
Luke paused…then straightened just slightly to make a brief bow from the neck.
Head still down and eyes part-closed, he heard the sound before he saw the blade's light—the bass thrum which rasped into being as a lightsaber was activated, casting a rich scarlet glow across the dark floor.
Tensed muscles moved subconsciously into a primed posture, loose and limber, ready to react as his heart drummed.
"Jade's lightsaber," Palpatine explained as he held it out and to the side, moving it slowly in an experimental swing. "I had thought to plunder it for parts to construct my own, but it's useless to me. The crystal is synthetic, and the modulation circuitry and emitter are both hardwire-calibrated to high-burst release, for ease of maintenance. It's weighted too lightly, with no power in the swing—a blade for one who must resort to substituting speed for technique.
"She's a soldier, not a Sith," Luke replied.
"How very true…" The blade paused mid-swing as Palpatine turned to Luke. "And yet she took your blade from you, I understand. Or perhaps you had lost the will to keep it?"
Abruptly Palpatine heaved the blade around in a wide sweep at arm's length, turning his entire body with the swing so that he halted with precise control, feet, hips and shoulders all held in alignment behind the blade, which hovered without the barest shake in line with Luke's heart—though too far away to make a strike. Luke remained still, holding his Master's eyes…and eventually, Palpatine's lips twitched a brief smile.
"But I believe it's still in there—all that power and passion. All crushed down right here at the very core of you, that much stronger for your ability to constrain it. Like a diamond waiting to shine. What do you say…" The tip of the blade weaved as Palpatine rotated his wrist in a slow, tight circle. "If I slice off all this dull and dour dirt you've acquired whilst languishing in the mud of mediocrity, will I see my Sith shine again?"
"I thought you always said I was too impulsive," Luke countered, holding his gaze steady. "That I continually acted without weighing the situation."
The blade flicked quickly away and down as Palpatine turned to the side, eyes remaining on it. "Now you weigh all things far too much."
"I can't do right for doing wrong." Luke twitched a brief smile. "But then that was always the case, wasn't it?"
Palpatine stepped aside to launch into a run of fast parries; a practiced mind dragging a new body through unfamiliar moves. Straightening, he scowled at his own technique, rolling his broad shoulders and shaking his arms looser. "Strange—I feel as if everything is in here, dormant, just waiting to be re-awakened…" Ocher eyes flicked briefly to Luke. "Sound familiar?"
Luke held silent… In a whip of speed Palpatine launched towards him, swinging the blade in a tight infinity loop as he closed—and this time Luke jerked, heels lifting, knees tensing. The blade held for a single second, then flicked decisively away again as Palpatine stepped to the side, eyeing the hilt derisively. "Too light by far. The gyroscopic cant is barely there—it may as well be an apprentice's blade." A brief twitch of narrow lips. "You used to duel with something similar when you were ten or eleven…do you remember?"
"Yes."
"By the time you were thirteen you already wielded an advocate's blade, weighted and tuned for a true Sith." Palpatine's voice took on indulgent, amused tones. "It slowed you down so much at first—there were times when I thought the blade swung you, and not the other way around. But you persevered. You held to your goal. You wanted so much to prove your worth in all things." Those searching eyes could almost be considered wistful. "What happened?"
"I grew up."
"No. You lost focus." There was not an iota of doubt in his voice.
He turned aside again, quicksilver fast, sweeping the scarlet blade at speed into more complex moves, its grinding hum snarling in hitched growls as the alignment of the containment field dragged against the blade's course.
"I have always found the practice of kata and duel to be great mental clarifiers. They free the mind from the mundanities of everyday life and lift it to a higher plane, where one must act on instinct. You rediscover the truth of who you are, in the heat of action. You channel the very core of your being." Palpatine turned, eyes aglow. "We should duel."
"I don't th—"
"I have a new body, in its prime. It should be tested. Honed."
"I…have no lightsaber."
Palpatine loosed one hand from his saber hilt to stretch it out to his side, and Luke sensed the familiar rush of Force energy given purpose. From the floor close to the viewports something small glinted for a fraction of a second, then hurled itself forward in line with Palpatine's hand as he brought his arm about, finger pointing, the move fast and fluid—
Luke snapped his hand up before his face, fingers spread, just in time to snatch the incoming hilt from the air. Even without looking he knew the heft and feel of his own saber.
His Master grinned. "I had Jade fetch it, when she brought me her own."
Luke glanced down, deeply uneasy. Although he'd trained all his life and had sparred constantly with Vader, he'd barely ever tested himself against his Master. There seemed something inherently wrong in the act. His eyes held on his inactive saber hilt. "It…was dismantled, to stop me retrieving it—the crystals will need to be re-focused."
"Then it is the perfect saber for an advocate who lacks the same."
Luke glanced up, slighted, and Palpatine's goading smiled widened.
"Jade reassembled it. She may have been a little…remiss, in her reluctance to keep her Emperor waiting, one could reasonably assume. Particularly since her own saber uses only one crystal."
Luke's own saber used three, and Palpatine well knew that. Luke let his saber hand drop to his side, purposely relaxing his shoulders. "They'll need fine calibration."
"It seems that we'll both be at a disadvantage, then." Again that smile, unmoved, as his Master's feet slid subtly into position
Luke resisted the urge to do the same in response, leaving his inactive lightsaber hilt at his side. Palpatine stared for long moments…then half-closed his eyes. Luke felt the hairs at the back of his neck rise as the Force wrapped about him, fining an automatic instinct to repel its pressing search within. But he let out a breath and relaxed…
"You are…afraid," Palpatine murmured, yellow eyes narrowed to pale slits. "Not of the duel—I taught you better than that. You fear…yourself. What you might do. What you are capable of. My wildfire in the forest…I have told you, you cannot burn me." He smiled as his eyes opened, thin lips pulling back…but the teeth beneath that familiar grin were pearl white, the face about it unlined, the body strong and straight.
For a brief second reflex took over and Luke found his mind subconsciously calculating strengths and weaknesses; how to stand against a man whose body was in its prime, yet whose mind was equipped with a lifetime of experience, countless duels behind him…
His fingers twitched about the saber hilt—
Palpatine straightened his back, shoulders dropping a trace looser, saber lifted to form that perfect defensive triangle. But his feet were a fraction too spread, meaning his rear heel was lifted too far, inadvertently locking his knee and making it a touch harder to retreat…
It wasn't a conscious decision; Luke simply launched forward. He did it; he acted first, igniting his saber as he went, hands wrapping about the hilt, forefingers tight to give control, latter ones loose, to aid mobility. Shoulders low, spine almost straight, his center of balance over his hips. It was all as natural to him as breathing, a state of utter familiarity. The first swing was from his left at shoulder height; a stock opener, a test of reflex.
As his Master raised his blade in classic response Luke took one step to the right on his inward swing, letting the blades connect but holding no power against the counter. The move brought him swiftly around Palpatine's left and dangerously close, forcing his Master to sidestep hastily to bring himself to a more defendable position. Luke could have pushed the advantage, could have kept on moving to his right to make Palpatine's imprecise footwork even weaker…but he disengaged, came back to ready-position with his saber held en-guard.
Palpatine grinned, resetting his own stance in reply. "This is a powerful body, but a slow one. I need to teach it speed and accuracy."
Luke barely heard, mind still calculating; powerful, in its prime…but a lifetime spent protected in a cloning tube. It would be stiff. Muscles could be worked in stasis using low currents to trigger contractions, but they couldn't be fully stretched.
He was already moving again, one step forward and two to the side, Palpatine matching in defense, saber angled. Luke brought his own saber high and then down, telegraphing the move…and again Palpatine made the perfect response, bringing his own blade high and horizontal to protect his head from the downward strike—
Mid-blow Luke twisted his rear hand against the base of his hilt, altering the saber's course entirely so that it now swung in from the side at neck-height with deadly speed. With a brief yell Palpatine backpedaled too quickly, his mind moving ahead of his feet so that the counter was clumsy and inelegant, too late to have had any real effect.
Instead of completing the blow Luke pushed the heel of his hand to his hilt, angling his blade backwards as his arms continued forwards, stopping his blade from making the contact whilst still proving that it could have. Immediately he pulled back, saber lowering to torso-level. In any normal sparring match both parties would have moved to a neutral ready-position in acknowledgment of the strike, but instead Palpatine twisted about, blade whisking up in a wide swing which batted Luke's aside. In the same second a heavy Force-fed body-blow impacted against his sternum sending him staggering backwards, gasping for breath. His feet had barely touched the floor before his saber hilt yanked up and to the side of its own volition, wrenching free of his grasp to sail across the bay and clatter noisily against the far wall, falling amongst storage trunks stacked there, its blade dousing. The drone of an incoming blade made Luke wrench about, dropping instantly to a crouch with one hand to the floor, arm raised—
The flash of bright scarlet froze an inch from his arm, its thrum a raw growl. For a second it remained, then twitched away, leaving a wide, bright afterglow in Luke's vision. Still gasping from the body-blow, he blinked it away to see Palpatine two paces back, shaking out his shoulders as he whipped the blade in low lines.
Luke rose, hand to his ribs, and Palpatine glanced to him with patronizing amusement.
"You seem to be without a blade, my friend."
With a huff, Luke turned and set off toward the far side of the bay, taking his time whilst he coaxed air back into his lungs. Two steps on he sensed the brief susurration of Force-power, and his lost hilt clattered as it pulled free from between the crates and launched forward at speed. It was all that Luke could do in the time to hunch back and twist slightly, so that the unlit hilt impacted with painful force against his shoulder rather than his head, ricocheting from the blow to skitter across the floor unenhanced.
He wrenched about to glare at Palpatine, who simply stared, head tilted, brow knitted in curious confusion. Grinding his jaw Luke straightened, rolling his shoulder against the pain as he turned to his saber—
Again that tremor in his senses made him tense, eyes flicking warily to his saber hilt.
Immediately he heard footfalls behind him, and the growl of Palpatine's blade as he closed. Luke didn't turn, instead setting forward at a run for his hilt, throwing himself into a roll a pace away so that he snatched it as he passed, dragging it up and activating it in the same move, hands closing in an awkward grip about the hilt, his back against the floor.
The incoming blow had all the power of a downward swing behind it, all the strength of Palpatine's arms and shoulders and torso. It reverberated down Luke's blade with teeth-rattling power, driving it backwards as he flinched to the side, so that both blade tips sizzled and flared into the steel deck over his shoulder, making a blaze of heat from molten metal bloom close to his head.
Etiquette forgotten, Luke kicked out with both legs, missing Palpatine only because his Master jerked back in a Force-fed jump which took him clear. But it gained Luke the moment he needed to roll back to standing, letting his blade drag in a flare of sparks where it cut into the bay floor as he held it one-handed, looking only to get upright and into a defendable position—
And with a brief, bright kick, his saber died entirely.
Luke glanced to it in alarm, then back to Palpatine, who stared for only a second, then set forward at a full run, blade lifting in preparation to strike, perfectly willing to take advantage of the saber's unanticipated failure.
Luke backpedaled, then turned about and ran for the edge of the bay where the storage crates gave cover. As he reached the nearest, he swung his hand out and brought his dead hilt against it in a heavy strike, knowing that it was the inexpertly-aligned crystals inside which must have moved in the jarring blows the hilt had received. He made another strike as he ran—and the blade flared to life, its drag kicking his arm back as he yelled in surprise.
Twisting about, he brought the saber up to meet Palpatine's incoming blow, locking the two blades and rolling them about each other in a fast spin, then pushing to the side when his own blade sat inside Palpatine's.
With the storage crates blocking Palpatine's ability to spin about to free his blade, he was forced into a hasty retreat, ducking and sidestepping as he wrenched away with one hand against the storage crate to push himself clear.
Immediately that he had distance his hand came up, and again Luke felt his saber hilt yanked back and to the side by the Force, dragging one hand free. With a yell he twisted back and took the still-pulling saber in both hands, foot braced against the crates, his whole body-weight set against the Force-driven pull. But against the scope of the Force it was nothing, and as he glanced back it was to see Palpatine's incoming blade at head-height. It stopped an inch from his neck as he flinched aside…and a second later his saber hilt was released, making him stumble backwards, all his weight still set against the invisible pull.
Fuming, he looked to Palpatine, who again stood with that slight tilt to his head—but in comprehension, now.
"And so it comes to this. All those years of training and practice and diligence…all forsaken. You may as well duel blindfolded."
The disappointment in his voice, the condemnation, burned in Luke's chest as Palpatine continued.
"I granted a seven year old boy life because I sensed something within him—the gift that so few have, the rarest distinction. The capacity to step beyond the mundane, the connection to something greater. Something exceptional. I took him and I taught him and I showed him a galaxy that most could not even see, let alone comprehend—control. I honed him into something of significance. Of power." Palpatine shook his head slowly. "And now you disown it. Shun it—deny it. Do you know how many would give half their lifespan for the power that courses within you?"
"Only half?" Luke's eyes stayed low, voice quiet. "It took my entire life from me. It took my father's from him."
Palpatine's head twitched, lip curling. "Is that what this is? Because of Corsin—because of what happened there?"
"Not just Corsin," Luke murmured.
"Your father," Palpatine said. And perhaps he'd known all along that this was the root of all of Luke's antipathy, because his condemnation was immediate. "And what lies did he fill your head with? All that you were, all that focus and clarity of purpose…all relinquished to a few grudging, grubby little promises made on nothing more than a petty commonality of blood."
"He didn't—"
"You forget, time and again he turned against all that he claimed to hold dear—took that course without remorse. I gave him everything—life itself, when I rescued him on Mustafar—yet it was his intention that I die by his hand, at Corsin."
"Because you used him—you used both of us!" Luke yelled the words, fingers tightening about his saber hilt.
"Both…" Palpatine straightened slightly, voice laden with pity at the realization, at the very notion. "You think…oh, child, you think that he was trying to protect you?"
Luke hesitated, and it was all the incentive Palpatine needed. He paused, as if seeking his words with care, voice almost apologetic. "He was using you, at Corsin. Using you to curb my actions and responses."
"You're lying."
Palpatine's eyes narrowed just slightly at the accusation, but his thin lips twitched to a brief, forced smile, shoulders settling. Luke felt the ghost of awareness brush against him as Palpatine sought to test whether he'd used the Force to verify his claim, and though he'd allowed it before, this time he kept his mind closed, nothing revealed.
His Master's chin twitched in annoyance at being so blatantly shut out, but surprisingly he held his temper, voicing frustration rather than the raw anger Luke had expected. "You have known Vader your whole life. You know what he was. Think! You went to challenge him, as I ordered…and then?"
"I…we fought, we dueled."
"But you did not stop him."
Luke looked down, deflated. Again the Force bushed against his shields, and his eyes rose, full of guilt. Palpatine shook his head. "You could not stop him because you did not want to. This…gaping flaw that you hold, this dire failing… Did you truly trust him?"
"No! No…" Luke hesitated. He hadn't—he hadn't! And yet…
"Where were you, when he came for me…because you would not have allowed it."
He was so sure of that. It reverberated in every syllable. Was Luke proud…or dismayed?
"I was…unconscious. I woke on a scuppered shuttle in deep space, close to the Outer Rim. Its guidance, sublight engines and outgoing comms had been damaged. But he'd left the incoming comms so that I could hear them. I knew that…that…"
"Everything had played out. You had served your purpose to him, one way or the other."
Luke shook his head. "He'd programmed the shuttle jump, so he knew where I was. He would have come for me, if he'd lived." Was that what he believed…or what he'd hoped?
"An assumption based on what? The truth is that you were in the perfect prison for a Sith." That harsh voice softened again to the level tones of one delivering unwelcome but unarguable facts. "I have done the same, with Jedi—Vader himself had, in the past, leaving them stranded and helpless. Easy target practice for any Star Destroyer, enabling any common captain with knowledge of the coordinates to kill even a Sith. A neat and efficient resolution to a tool that had served its purpose."
Luke scowled, unable to meet Palpatine's eyes. His saber-hand had dropped entirely now, his other arm slowly rising in defense, clasped at his chest against a far more wounding threat. "I was unconscious when he took me to the shuttle. If he'd wanted to kill me he could have done so then."
"But he had no guarantee that his duel against me would be successful. He needed you alive until then. A bargaining chip to stay my hand."
Luke stumbled a step back, thoughts tumbling, all cohesive arguments fracturing and failing. He knew—he knew he was being told nothing but divisive insinuations which he couldn't counter, because he didn't know the truth.
And Palpatine wasn't going to tell him. Somehow, Luke had admitted everything he'd intended to withhold; given up facts that he alone knew, in return for…nothing. Palpatine had admitted nothing in return.
Luke raised his eyes, realizing; and why should he? Why should he tell Luke anything, other than what served his own interests? Why tell him the truth at all—ever? Without thinking, he opened himself to the Force, spreading his consciousness within it, the unfamiliarity of even this limited act enervating. It swirled in complex eddies about the two Sith, enfolding and permeating them both…though Luke's awareness came to a harsh stop at his Master's mind, permasteel barriers in place—
Still, Palpatine's thin lips twitched to a brief smile. "Then you do still remember how. I had begun to despair that perhaps it was you who had truly died at Corsin."
A memory burst through and Luke was in the corridor of the Conqueror again, lightsaber in his hands, facing off against his father—his father! Because of this man, who stood before him now voicing such empty sympathy, he had dueled his own father.
"You turned us against each other," he husked, eyes coming back to his Master. "You did that!"
"I protected you."
"How?!" Luke backed off another step, muscles tensing, the hand which held the inactive hilt of his saber rising. "You never protected me from him a single day in my entire life!"
"I gave my life to teach you the most valuable lesson of yours," Palpatine hissed. "That Vader was a betrayer. A liar. A murderer. Did he tell you—did he tell you that he turned on your mother? That he killed h—"
Outraged, Luke wrenched his lightsaber around without thinking, activating the blade as he did so. Palpatine's saber came to meet it in a bright flash of sparks as Luke leaned into the blades, jaw clenching, mind reeling.
He sensed rather than saw Palpatine's chin lift a fraction; felt the inward rush of incandescent power—
The Force-blow was enough to throw him backwards, whiting out his vision for a brief, breathless moment. He sprawled, back to the cool deck, shaking his head to clear it—
Instinct jerked him to the side in a wrenching twist, so that the incoming blade missed him by inches. He scrabbled up and back, swinging his saber in a blind arc to cover his retreat. On his feet, Luke braced—but the blow came in from the back of his heels, jolting them forwards so that he fell hard onto his back, the air hammered from his lungs at the impact.
There was no time—no time, as he scrambled to his feet once again, knowing he'd be knocked down—
Palpatine was there instantly, blade catching Luke's up in a tight, fast circle. Luke struggled to move with them, twisting his shoulders and wrists to gain the momentum that would give him control. For a fraction of a second the pressure on his blade lessened and he knew he had the initiative—
Then the Force ripped his saber hilt to the side, leaving him wide open. He used the momentum to make a fast three-sixty turn on the spot, bringing his blade in on Palpatine's unprotected side. The unexpected counter bought him a second to brace for the next onslaught…but all the while the knowledge rang clear that there was nothing he could do—not against this. Not against the Force.
The blow came from the side this time, wrenching his neck painfully and knocking his legs from under him so that he fell awkwardly, one hand out to catch his weight. Embedding with barely a drag into the deck, his lightsaber stopped only when the metal hilt jarred to an angled stop, jerking his wrist back as it ripped painfully from his grip. He yelled out, furious as he pushed to his feet, hand out to his saber hilt as it rolled beyond reach, blade deactivating—
It was instant; instinctive. His hand opened—
The saber flew to it, igniting as it landed in his palm…and it was as if a floodgate had opened. As if he'd held his breath for as long as he possibly could, and only now dragged in a huge gulp of air which rushed with the blood through his entire body, lighting every cell.
Level with him, Palpatine brought his scarlet blade in high from above—and Luke dragged the Force in about him in a massive draft, pitching it out against his attacker with a wild yell.
Unprepared, Palpatine was hurled bodily backwards in a high arc until the power that had thrown him was wrestled under control and his Master twisted mid-air to land heavily in a dropped crouch, eyes wide, lips pulled back from those white teeth in a wide grin.
Instead of setting his stance to a wary defense Luke launched forward with a yell, saber held high. He felt the buzz of the Force as it enfolded about his saber hilt yet again, but offset it without even thinking, a tight enveloping counter-force which freed the blade and his hand in the flash of a single thought.
They came together a second later, blades flaring in a coruscating glow. With a yell Luke twisted aside and turned full-circle, bringing his saber in low and pressing Palpatine to an awkward defense. He flipped up and away, forcing Luke to flinch clear of his blade as it trailed in a wide arc behind him. Luke threw out his hand and wrenched the Force down—and Palpatine's body was caught mid-air and slammed against the deck, curling him onto his side in a breathless gasp.
Luke launched forward as Palpatine thrust his arm out, hand to the side. The Force rippled a warning as a crate dislodged itself and heaved inward at head height, slowing Luke as he was forced to glance to it, head jerking as he summoned the mental counter to snatch it from its path and rip it and its contents to shreds in a single second, so that they rained down in a wide burst of finely-shattered pieces.
It had been a second—less—but by the time he'd turned back Palpatine was on his feet and pulling his saber to ready, grinning maniacally. With a yell Luke set forward, no subtlety or cunning, just an inward blow with every iota of strength, physical and Force, that could be brought to bear. Palpatine met the blow head-on, the blades flaring against each other in a splash of searing sparks—
And Luke's saber failed again, dousing entirely. Both men stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden shift of momentum which forced Luke to snatch one hand up to Palpatine's wrist to stop himself falling face-first into the remaining blade. As Palpatine recovered and tried to twist his arm free Luke pushed off and back, using the Force to augment a fast backward flip.
With a yell Palpatine came forward and Luke glanced about, desperate. Everything—every single item in the bay that wasn't bolted down—lifted in a maelstrom of movement. Like a contained tornado they heaved and spun, cutting Palpatine off entirely as Luke glanced to his dead saber hilt, knowing he had moments.
Staring, he split his control, lifting the hilt before him as his head dropped, eyes closing. Focus!
Bringing the hand that held it closer to his forehead he concentrated; crystals, three; alignment. He knew exactly, precisely what was wrong inside the hilt. He had built this saber from scratch; had focused the crystals himself, using the Force—but in silence, with preparation, in meditation.
Hunching slightly, he let the room and its demands fall away. In a cacophony of noise the crates he'd lifted clattered to the deck, and Luke sensed the intense inpull of power as Palpatine sought to clamber past the suddenly released barrage.
Concentrate! The noise and the clamor and the danger all fell to a single tone at the edge of his awareness as his breath froze, his whole being centered on a single task…
In a flare of noise and light the saber blade ignited, its rasping growl loud in his ears. Triumphant, he turned his attention, reacting before he'd even opened his eyes, muscles answering a flare of intuition so that his blade was already in place to counter Palpatine's long before he'd seen it. Still deeply immersed in the Force, Luke caught the incoming saber with ease and rolled his own over it with a flick of his wrist which snapped it down and aside in a single fluid movement.
And he was inside Palpatine's defense, his coruscating blade a fraction of an inch from Palpatine's neck. Both men froze, a tableau of potential—
"Is this the moment you've dreamed of?" Palpatine hissed, panting. "Do it!"
Visible to Luke in the reflection of the viewpanes behind Palpatine one hand was held at the small of his back, glowing with the bright blue-white corona of Dark-side lightening—and perhaps he thought he could move fast enough to save his own life. But Luke's saber, held an inch from his Master's throat, made that…
Those last few words reverberated with a kick of realization, their truth hammering through the scarlet haze; his saber, held an inch from his Master's throat…
His heart skipped a beat and pounded against his ribs with physical force as the room pitched, making him gasp. His saber, an inch from his Master's throat…
He stared, muscles trembling, chest locked…but the ingrained horror at his own unforgivable actions had already fired and he wrenched the blade away, deactivating it as he dropped down to one knee, his body and head bent low.
"I'm sorry." He was—genuinely, wholeheartedly…well, perhaps not entirely that. But too many long, hard years of ingrained and unarguable laws couldn't overcome a brief twelve months of crushed revelation. His hands—his whole body—shook as his lungs still heaved from exertion. "I shouldn't have taken it that far."
"But you did," Palpatine said quietly, his own exertion sounding in his labored breaths. "You pushed as far as you possibly could. As far as your heart and your soul would ever allow…and yet I still stand. Unharmed. Luke, I gave you this moment…I brought you to it, do you understand?" A pale hand reached out to take his chin and gently lift it. "Do you understand the demons that I brought you here to vanquish?"
The gentle pressure remained, urging Luke to stand. He did so face down, mortified, unable to look his Master in the eye. Then, in a rare and confusing moment, his Master's hand slipped gently to the nape of Luke's neck to lean him forwards and lay a slow, indulgent kiss to Luke's forehead—the ultimate forgiveness.
"Put them aside," Palpatine said benevolently. "Put all thoughts that you brought in here with you tonight aside. They are done, now. Played out to their conclusion."
Luke glanced up, realizing. He'd known; Palpatine had known the dark thoughts that had gnawed at the edge of Luke's compliance every day since his Master's restoration. That was what this had been—the opportunity, the rare dispensation to lay them to rest. Because his Master was right; given the moment—the one, perfect chance—Luke had been unable to act. Unable to live out the fantasy of pushing the blade home. The air left him in a heavy sigh, and he felt his entire body deflate, limbs leaden as Palpatine continued softly but gravely.
"You could not lay the blow because you know in your heart that we cannot exist, save with each other. Only this is constant. Only this is worthy." He released his hold, but as Luke tried to back up one strong hand clasped tightly to the top of his shoulder, stilling him, all fight gone. "You once told me that you would die for me. And I— I have stepped back from that same maw, for you. I have returned to give you purpose, once more. To give you shelter—the only true shelter. Here, in my service. You and I, we are fated. We are allies. My apprentice, my surrogate son, my black-hearted Sith."
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