"Father and Son"
By EsmeAmelia
AN: Hey, thanks for reviewing! Um, I have bad news - MY COMPUTER WON'T TURN ON! I can still write using a flash drive and my brother's computer, but he'll be taking online college courses this fall, so he'll need it more than I will. In other words, don't expect updates to be quick in the foreseeable future.
Chapter 52
Lightning shot out of Palpatine's fingers, and for a moment Han closed his eyes, bracing himself for death, hoping at least that Luke had been kicked back into sanity. He waited . . . one second . . . two seconds . . . then he heard a cry, and it wasn't his. He opened his eyes in time to see the Emperor's lightening throwing Luke back against the wall next to his brother.
Palpatine was smirking over them. "A noble endeavor, young Skywalker. Noble . . . but futile." With that, he shot lightening out of his hands again, this time striking Luke on purpose. After Luke screamed for a few seconds, Palpatine separated his hands, shooting one stream of lightening at Luke and one at Han. For several moments Han was aware of nothing, no thought, no feeling except pain, pain, pain.
The lightening stopped momentarily, most likely so the stings could grow. Han opened his eyes, seeing Luke crumpled up next to him, his face covered in burn marks.
"Han . . ." Luke gasped out in a raspy voice.
Han wanted to answer, give Luke some kind of comfort, but his mouth was completely dry. His skin felt like it wanted to tear apart and free itself from his bones. After only a moment his eyes had to close again – the outside world was stinging them.
The pain returned, penetrating his every cell, robbing him of every thought except please, make it stop, please, make it stop! He couldn't tell if he was crying out or not, couldn't tell what was happening to Luke, could only hope that death would come soon and remove him from this agony.
"Father! Please!"
Those two words somehow made it to Han's ears. Though it took his brain several seconds to comprehend them, he finally realized that Luke was calling out to Vader for help. Great. Just great. They were inches away from death and the kid still clung to the feeble hope that their father would save them.
That was all Han could think of before the pain engulfed his mind again. Luke's cries became just another background sound that didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. Make it stop! Please, just let me die! Death, such a wonderful luxury. A descent into nothingness, an escape from this torment.
Then suddenly the pain stopped. Han's first thought was that he was finally dead, that all had ended at last . . . but no, his burns still stung even without jolts of new pain. He slowly opened his crusty eyes, blinking a few times to sort out the blurs . . . and then he saw the most extraordinary sight.
Vader, carrying the Emperor with his one remaining hand, lifting him nearly six feet off the floor. Though Palpatine's lightening was shooting in all directions, Vader held him steady, striding as he carried him. Quite a bit of the lightening seemed to be striking Vader, but he never once broke his step. Then, almost before Han was finished comprehending what was happening, Vader threw the Emperor into the shaft, where his body burst into flames.
"Father . . ." Luke gasped out. He began crawling painfully towards where Vader had just collapsed.
Han breathed through his mouth, swirling his tongue around in an attempt to moisten himself enough to talk. "Hey kid . . ." he managed to gasp, holding his bound hands up, ". . . do you mind . . .?"
Without a word, Luke raised his hand and unlocked Han's binders with the Force, but he turned back around before Han could thank him. Though he was obviously in a great deal of pain, he kept crawling up to Vader, who was leaning against the rail, as if clinging desperately to life. Once Luke reached his father, the Sith collapsed into his arms.
Han was still for several moments, trying to comprehend what he had just seen – and what he was seeing now. His body still burned – he doubted that he would be able to move – but Luke was calling to him.
"Han, can you come over here?"
Without hesitation, Han crawled towards his brother, grinding his teeth in an attempt to ignore the pain and nausea, feeling like he too could collapse at any second. Soon Vader's breathing entered his ears – though it wasn't the same sound he had heard so many times when he was a prisoner. It was small, raspy, like a sick person struggling for air.
Luke was holding the former Sith in his arms. Vader's head was lolling back – Han couldn't tell if he was conscious or not. That breath continued, irritating Han's ears even more than Vader's regular breathing . . . and still there was no expression in his mask.
"Han," Luke asked softly, "can you help me with him?"
Han didn't think he could stand up, yet alone walk, but Luke's small, desperate tone, the tone of a son who was losing his father, made him unable to say no.
"I'll try, kid."
They got on either side of their father, each one lending a shoulder for him to lean on. With Vader's weight and hard armor resting on Han's shoulder, Han thought for certain that he would end up breaking a few bones, but he ground his teeth and swallowed any protests. Bit by bit, he and Luke managed to get Vader to his feet.
"Come on," Luke said. "We've gotta get out of here – Leia probably has the shield down by now."
It was a slow, slow trek down the levels of the Death Star. The brothers were half supporting, half carrying Vader, who hadn't spoken since he'd killed the Emperor. The place was shaking all around them, stormtroopers and officers were running this way and that, so desperate to get off the station that they didn't notice their leader being carried around by two of their enemies. Step by laborous step, his burns still stinging, his shoulder feeling like it was lugging around a ton of weight, Han inched towards the shuttle bay.
When they finally reached a shuttle that seemed to be empty, Vader collapsed, bringing his sons down with him. The three of them were sprawled on the floor for a moment before Luke turned over to face his father.
"Luke . . ." Vader gasped out, ". . . help me take . . . this mask off . . ."
"But you'll die!" Luke exclaimed.
"Nothing . . . can stop that now. Just once . . . let me look at my sons with my own eyes . . ."
Luke's eyes widened in shock, but then a gradual acceptance came over them, which filled Han with nausea. Luke was going to do it. He was going to remove Vader's mask and sentence their father to death, giving up on any hope that they could save him. Slowly his hands moved forward, positioning themselves over the mask . . .
"No . . ." Han whispered. "Luke . . . NO!"
"What?" Luke looked like he had been jolted out of a dream.
"Don't do it!" Han said rapidly, reaching over and prying Luke's hand away. "I just got him back - I'm not losin' him again!"
"He's dying anyway," Luke protested.
"Then we should try to save him," Han said desperately. "Admiral Ackbar's ship - it has a medical bay and bacta tanks, doesn't it?"
"Yes . . . but . . ."
"But what?" Han glared at his brother. "We came here to save him, and that's just what I'm gonna do."
Finally Luke nodded. "You're right. Come on, let's get him out of here."
