CHAPTER SUMMARY: Father and son are (surprise!) bickering and bonding, but this time they connect on a deeper level and find their own peace.
(NOTE: I'm making up medical and DNA stuff because it's the GFFA and anything is possible. Apologies to readers who have actual medical and scientific knowledge in our universe.)
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"I'll never beat you," Luke muttered, not daring to inhale or twitch as the tip of his dad's lightsaber pointed only inches from his throat.
The blade was retracted, and he accepted the proffered hand that pulled him to his feet. "Unlikely, but possible."
Luke rolled his eyes.
"Must we add 'eye rolls' to the list of unacceptable expressions? Captain Gallia is quite busy already."
"I only eye-roll with you," Luke said, hoping that was true, but he couldn't really remember.
"Of course you do. However, I wonder…perhaps Gallia would also be a good dance instructor. I will ask him if he has expertise in that area."
Luke moaned. "If he's so busy, why can't you teach me, Lord Twinkletoes?"
"You are astonishingly disrespectful," Vader scolded, but mildly. "Back to the topic at hand. One day you may possibly surpass me in swordsmanship. I am teaching you all I know about the art of dueling, and I am somewhat hindered by my cybernetic limbs. I am power and fury with finesse, while your size enables you to be limber and quick. That can be an advantage against normal opponents."
"Are there any normal opponents left?" he wondered.
"There are always fights to be had. Do you understand the mistake in your last move?"
"Yes. I zigged when I should have zagged." He grinned and poked his dad's shoulder. "I thought you would come in blazing like you usually do, and you didn't. You were sneaky! That must have been the 'finesse' part."
"Exactly. Never assume your opponent will do what you expect. You did well today. And now, please shower before you attend Captain Gallia."
"Are you insinuating…? Never mind. Hey!" He smiled impishly, hoping to distract his dad so 'hey' wouldn't be added to The List. "Do you ever shower? You must get really hot and sweaty in that armor." And stinky, which he didn't need to say aloud.
"Not unless you count TwoOneBee hosing me off."
"I would count that as a shower. If you use soap."
"Disinfectant and germicidal sprays for unreachable—"
"Okay, TMI." Why had he even started this conversation? "I'm outta here. See you after my lessons. Or whatever," he added because that was sure to get an (invisible) eye roll from his dad.
# # #
His brain was filled with seriously formal words he didn't want to use, but supposed he should practice. (At least he'd been able to warn Gallia about the dancing proposal and, judging by the Captain's reaction, he would claim a complete lack of talent.) But really, were his words and facial expressions that bad? He'd thought they were endearing and made people laugh. Although when he thought about it, maybe the second wasn't the result of the first. Maybe people were laughing at him. "I'm feeling paranoid."
"Then let's change the subject. We should get you some new clothes to match your new hair."
"I think we should get you new clothes to match your incoming hair." Luke yawned and rubbed his head vigorously, producing a small snap of static. "Oops! Hey, at least I have a little hair left. Sort of. But you'll look fabulous because my hair was fabulous. I'll have mine colored the same as yours when it grows back." He supposed he could leap to his feet and go to the holoscreen to pop up an image to see how he'd look in Glorious Autumn, but this huge sofa was so comfortable that he didn't want to get up. Maybe he could get his dad to do it instead. He gestured to the screen. "You should see how our blue robes coordinate with Glorious Autumn and Naboo Sunrise."
"No, I am not your model. Even though I am, to quote you: 'Anikin Manakin'."
"Every word you just said was wrong." Luke smiled sweetly. "But congrats on forming a correct sentence with new words and trying to use them. I said 'Manikin Anakin'." When his father didn't react, he added, "And after surgeries, I think you'll be Dada-kin. Or would you prefer Dadi-kin? I can go with either."
"A simple 'Dad' remains satisfactory to me."
"Okay, 'Dad' it is. Remember when you hated that word so much that you didn't want me to even think it?"
"Yes. Although I was only pretending to hate it."
Luke retracted his legs so his dad had space to sit. "I know." When Vader began to join him on the sofa, he blurted, "Dad, wait!"
Sith Father paused in mid-motion.
"Before you sit down, would you pull off my socks?"
"What?"
Luke gave a tiny shrug. "My toes hurt. The socks are suffocating them."
The look his father gave him was adorable in its incredulity. "The Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet, the Dark Lord of the Sith, the future Emperor...and you're asking me—?"
"Yes, please," he confirmed politely. "As long as you're there. I can't reach them without bending over."
After giving him the long-suffering look of a martyred parent, his dad tugged off Luke's socks and tossed them aside. "Not only are you disrespectful, you are the most spoiled child ever."
"Yes, thanks to you!" And I'm going to make you the most spoiled dad ever! "Here's your reward for being so nice—I'll sit up and you can lie down. Put your head in my lap."
They were quiet for a few moments after they rearranged themselves, and Luke stroked his father's bare head absently. The synthskin had held up fine, but when he squinted he could see tiny marks where the horrible needles poked in. "I read the stuff— sorry, the medical links you sent about...neurological procedures. Are you considering…?"
"I am. There is a neurosurgeon on the team, but I am undecided. It might be too much additional stress on my body as it heals."
"We don't want that." He moved his hand to his father's chest, feeling the reassuring rise and fall of steady, mechanized breathing. "We'll talk to them tomorrow, okay? And ask more questions."
"Yes."
"And there's one more thing." Luke cleared his throat. "TwoOneBee said the medical team would be disposed of when they're finished. Uh…not literally, right?"
His father snorted. "Droid speak. Two is prone to dramatics."
"Huh. I wonder who he learned that from?"
Vader ignored the implication. "The specialists from various Carosi medical centers are ostensibly on vacations or brief sabbaticals, but the majority of the team is from the Executor and other ships of my fleet. I thought it wise not to attract attention by carting off too many physicians from a single facility."
Yeah, especially since I already killed one. "So are you telling the truth? You'll let them return from vacation and go back to work?"
"Not only are you disrespectful and spoiled, you're also a suspicious child."
"Dad!"
"Yes, they will return to their former lives. After all, I may need them again in the future."
"Always thinking with your heart."
"Truer than you know." Vader peered up at him. "The fuzz on your head looks like a halo under the lights."
Luke snorted. "Yeah, I'm a real angel!"
He would have bitten off his tongue if that would have taken back those words. She was my angel and I killed her. His dad regretted enough about Padme without another reminder.
"It's all right," his father said gently, then was silent.
After the memory faded, Luke observed: "Your voice sounds much better. Stronger."
"I've been following exercises prescribed by the doctor."
"The ship doctor? Dr. Bloodsucker? What is his real name? I've never known."
"Doctor. Some brave souls have been known to call him 'Doc'." Vader sighed. "I also had my vocal chords injected with DNA, an experimental technique that has had promising results during testing."
"Wow. Good for you!" Good as long as it worked, but he wished his dad wouldn't take chances with his health when Luke wasn't around to fix him.
"Yes. And a surprise— I will be having cloned lungs implanted rather than an improved respirator."
"What? How? Dr. Andres said that required an— Ugh, Dad, did you use an embryo? From a person? Or an animal— oooh, maybe a bird and you'll grow wings!"
"Are you done fantasizing?" Vader's eyes closed. "Your Dr. Andres was no specialist and certainly not up to date in research in any field. Given his inadequacy, I am thankful he did not continue to treat you. Fortunately, I discovered an experimental treatment in which organs are grown expeditiously from DNA."
"What?! Another experiment? And an expeditious one at that. Dad!" Really, Luke would hit his father on the head if he could do it without hurting him. (Also, was his dad studying language tapes too?) (If he was, it was to torture his son with strange new words.) "Why are you letting them experiment on you?"
"Bug, my entire body is an experiment. For medical and mechanical specialists, I am the equivalent of paradise."
His neck was getting stiff from looking down and scowling. He leaned his head back on the cushion. "I wish you wouldn't do anything without asking me. And besides, won't this mean a longer healing time than mechanical lungs? Like… tissues have to grow back and attach and stuff."
"I believe I can overcome such 'stuff' with your help and the Force. Do not believe everything The Andres Debacle told you."
Luke sighed. "So they used your DNA? Did they have to cut a piece of…. I mean, did they cut you somewhere?"
"No." His father's lashes fluttered open. "My midichlorian count is so high there was concern that such intervention could corrupt one or both of the strands. Nothing like this has ever been attempted on an individual as Force-strong as myself."
"What? You used a stranger's DNA? Some anonymous human?" He huffed indignantly. "You could have used—"
"I used yours. Since your midichlorian level is lower, it was deemed safe to try. Well… I deemed it safe."
"What?" He blinked. That's what he was going to suggest, but— "What do you mean mine? From what? I mean—"
"Well," his father repeated and cleared his throat, a sound that was likely a precursor to something Luke wouldn't like.
"What?"
"We used your hand."
"My what?"
"Your hand. You remember the accident with your hand."
No, I'd forgotten! "You kept my hand?" Why did that seem so horrible? And morbid? And an invasion of his privacy?
"Did you think I'd simply toss it away? Of course not. I had DNA samples removed in case we need them in the future. Then I incinerated the hand so you would be safe from anyone else who might want your DNA."
"Other than you!" he fumed. "You could have asked!"
"Would you have said no?"
"Of course not!"
"Then why would I bother asking?"
This was Luke logic and this was the guy he'd inherited it from. But he was still troubled. "You said 'in case we need them'. If something happened to me, were you going to… to clone me? I mean… replace me with a… fake son?"
His father's body stiffened. Then he moved so quickly that Luke instinctively raised his forearms in defensive mode. But Vader turned sideways, grabbed around his waist, and buried his head against Luke's stomach.
Luke shuddered, sent back in time to when he was five—six? He was frightened because Aunt Beru was angry with him. He didn't even remember what he had done. But he remembered that they were both scared and he went running to her and clutched her and pushed his head into her body, finding safety in the sound of her galloping heart.
Instinctively he grasped one of his father's hands, his warm human flesh interweaving with synth-covered metal. He copied the gesture by sharing his thoughts, and laid his cheek against the hairless skull.
His father trembled and drifted.
Luke reached into the Force and grew roots that extended outside him, deep and strong. He stayed motionless, mind and body. He didn't tug. He didn't pull. He didn't yank. He let his father drift. After a few moments, Vader came back. On his own.
The universe blossomed open inside them, and confirmed what Luke had learned on Vjun.
I am the Anchor.
It was so easy; he was his father's anchor. He couldn't teach him or save him through anger or disappointment. He couldn't force him to change. All he could be was there. He allowed Vader to hold on to him, quietly, without thoughts or words, and his father didn't pull away or resist. He wandered, he floated, he drifted. But he always returned.
I am your anchor, Luke thought, and felt his father's curiosity and tentative relief.
The anchors that had held Anakin Skywalker had been lost too often. His mother, his home. His mentor, his temple. His wife, his children. Every home he'd ever had, lost, whether they had been homes in reality or homes in his heart.
My mother was my home.
Obi-Wan was my brother… my executioner.
Padme was… my everything. My focus. My rock. They all abandoned me, and I was lost without them. Until Sidious.
Luke brought the steel fingers to his face, didn't release his grip, didn't tighten it. Just let it touch. I'm here. I'm your son. I will always be your son. That will never change. I am your anchor and you are mine.
An anchor to the past, present and future. An anchor for the Anakin overwhelmed by his gift, subdued and imprisoned by the will of a Sith Lord who knew precisely what was needed by a vulnerable, confused son of the Force. Who had been there, waiting, understanding Anakin's hunger and feeding it, nurturing the desperate need that Luke had seen too often, the endless emptiness that could only be filled by someone who understood.
Luke set his awareness free and felt Vader examine it, studying every nuance over and over, so apprehensive, so hesitant to believe fully, yet longing to surrender his absolute trust. He felt the exact moment of acceptance and acknowledgement and knew a sense of homecoming, a contentment he hadn't felt in his Sith father over the last two years. It was as if something that had been broken deep inside had finally been repaired, healing first his spirit, then his mind. And soon, if the Force was with them, his body.
This was Vader. This was Anakin. This was neither. This was a new being born between father and son, accepting all of themselves. Anakin, relaxing in the knowledge that he was complete with freedom and security. He was a child in the desert; he was a Sith Lord in the galaxy; he was everything in between.
He was accepted. He was safe.
Finally, so was Luke.
He sighed contentedly. His father, exhausted, surrendered to dreamless sleep. Luke let his other hand rest across the head pillowed on his lap and closed his own eyes.
There was no more need for fear or defense or uncertainty. Whatever barriers that had lingered between them were gone. United, they could change everything.
It doesn't mean I'm going to stop arguing with you, he thought, in case his dad was listening while he slept.
I know.