A/N: Hello everyone! Chapter 30! Wow! As usual a massive thanks to everyone who read, favorited, followed, and reviewed since my last update. I know I say it on every chapter, but I mean it. You guys are the lifeblood of this fic, and the reason I keep writing.

Upstart Psycho: Thank you! That is some high praise! I'll say that we are entering into some new storylines now (some have been set up already, some not) and I hope you like them! Ryan1017: I really appreciate it. Although ironically, much as I disagree with that direction (and I know Mark does), in writing him here I've started to see how Luke could have gone at least somewhat down that road. Maybe not where he is in the Sequels, but maybe how he is an the Mandalorian and associated shows. He is under a lot of pressure, and in that timeline there really wasn't anything to push back against the more conservative ideas being shoved down his throat by Yoda and Obi-Wan. Even Ahsoka was anti-attachment, I would guess related to her own assumptions and guilt over Anakin, so even that new connection clearly didn't help, and Anakin didn't tell him how he fell and why he came back before he died, so Luke really has nothing to go on. I can see him deciding, given how influential his decisions are and how young and inexperienced he is, to play it safe and temper some of his more radical ideas. Again, I don't like it; just playing devil's advocate. On a lighter note: I love Han and Luke's bromance too XD ichigo urahra Shihoin: I think that's a pretty good guess :) DS2010: Oh definitely. He was a complete sadist and psychopath. Just the worst. TheDarkPrince56: It's funny, I actually only just finished Fallen Order for the first time a few days ago lol. It is a possibility I am considering. I haven't decided yet, but I do think it could fit well into some of my future plans. Sinvulkt: :)))))) Yessssssss! Ventress immediately: "Okay, is your mom Ahsoka or Kenobi because he literally doesn't spend time with anyone else." Excuse you, Luke is fantastic at Dark Side Pokemon. Who else is going to make people go to therapy? Thank you! I am so glad you enjoyed it! Read on… Courtesy Trefflin: Luke is very aware of the weight on his shoulders, and he is trying very hard to bear it well. Thankfully he does have help, because alone that would be a very difficult burden. The Dark Side is strong around war and violence. It's one reason Palpatine orchestrated a galactic conflict. And we see repeatedly in the Old Republic (where there seems to have been a much better understanding of the Dark Side among the Jedi) how dangerous it can be for people newly turned to the Light to be around such things. Han never let them forget that kiss. I am absolutely certain he was still teasing them at 80. And yes, poor Luke. Every time they kissed Leia was the one who initiated, but he is the one who gets teased lol. Ohh, the Nightsister knows about Anakin from more than the news ;) Luke did turn the most famously evil man in the Galaxy. That may have given him some… ideas about what he can do. I hope you enjoy this next chapter! We're setting up some new plots and revisiting some old ones.

Note: There is discussion of phantom pain related to amputation in this chapter, as well as how I think implanted prosthetics might hypothetically work. I have tried to do my research, but obviously if somewhat has actual experience with this and believes I got something wrong, please let me know. I want to handle this issue with realism and sensitivity.

I do not own Star Wars or its characters. All rights to Filoni and the All Seeing Mouse.


Chapter 30


Dr. Garul said there were a variety of factors that contributed to phantom pain and feelings. Mostly it was confused nerves, with the problem becoming more likely and severe depending on how unexpected, sudden, and traumatic the amputation had been, as well as how well the replacement and treatment afterwards had been carried out.

They had all been sudden, but his right arm, the one Tyrannus had sliced off on Geonosis, had never given him many issues. Back in the Clone Wars there had sometimes been a twinge of pain in his nonexistent fingers, like they were being bent backwards, or perhaps a prickling, itching sensation traveling up and down his forearm. But the stump had been terminated well, the prosthetic carefully attached, and his convalescence had been carried out according to orders, even if somewhat unorthodox.

Once the stump itself was terminated and soaked in Bacta to heal, he had been fitted with a primitive, non-implanted prosthetic for a few days, just to get used to the idea while they worked on the next step. It was a strange thing, barely a step up from a block of wood. A glove, padded at the end to ensure a good fit with the prosthetic regardless of the amputation's shape, fitted over his elbow and bicep, then the 'arm' fitted over it. No feeling, not attached, and he couldn't wear it for long periods at all, certainly not to sleep. It was simply a training device.

This was meant to remain for three weeks, but the war and other circumstances hurried things along. Three days later an intermediary prosthetic was implanted. This one couldn't do much; it was barely more than a wire skeleton that collected information about his nervous system for them to use for his new one. It was ugly, uncomfortable, and impossible to cover or hide.

At least partly put back together, Obi-Wan sent him off to escort Padme back to Naboo. There he requested and was granted ten days leave due to his recent injury. He and Padme stole what they could of their short honeymoon between feeding him pain medication and icing his arm. Even so it was one of his happiest memories. Padme was an angel, helping him with whatever he needed and insisting he stay in bed and not strain himself even when he protested. She didn't even complain on any of the numerous occasions that that clothes hanger of a hand got tangled in her hair.

Once ten days were up, he had to leave. A Galaxy-wide war was starting, one involving trillions of beings, and with only ten thousand Jedi to lead and fight even one with such a severe injury could not be left behind for long. He bid Padme goodbye, then climbed into a transport filled with strange expressionless men with identical faces, to go fight in a strange war.

Immediately he was whisked off for another surgery, this one a somewhat longer affair as they first checked and rechecked the final piece, making sure it fit perfectly, making sure it responded properly to his signals and compensated for any nerve damage the cauterization of Tyrannus's lightsaber had caused, not a detail unrefined before they finally put him under, opened the stump back up, and surgically fused the metal forearm to his intact elbow.

Obi-Wan never left his side, replacing Padme in his hovering, overly attentive care. Anakin guessed he felt guilty and sorry for what had happened and kept trying to reassure his Master and brush off his help.

It was Obi-Wan who told him he was to be knighted without trials; an honor granted for his actions on Geonosis. Anakin accepted without objection, and privately assumed the real reason was that they couldn't afford to keep two capable, grown Jedi in one place with the war spread so thin. So he was knighted, there on the medical station, the Council nothing more than blue ghosts on a holotransmitter. His new arm still felt cold and unfamiliar, bandaged with Bacta wraps to help it heal and fuse to his flesh.

The phantom pains had decreased over the years, and since it had been replaced with the new one recently, the one with skin, that looked real and could mimic the neural signals of a real arm much better than his old one could, they had disappeared entirely. Apparently, this had helped the 'confusion' in his brain, finally convincing it that his arm had grown back and it could stop trying to figure out where it had gone.

All the other limbs were more complicated and painful. His left arm, like his legs, had been removed by Obi-Wan during that horrible moment on Mustafar, above the elbow unlike the other. Then it had been replaced incorrectly with an ill-fitting, cheap piece of garbage that never gave him a moment's peace.

All in all, his convalescence after the near complete destruction of his body had taken fourteen and a half hours, instead of the months it should have taken, then he was sent back out in the field. He had work to do apparently, and if he didn't want to be in absolute agony while he did it, then maybe he should have won on Mustafar instead of sticking his master with a ruined, useless, half-dead apprentice.

Apparently the literal hack job Sidious had made of the limbs, and the complete neglect afterword while they healed and for another twenty years after that, meant that the damage could never be fully repaired. However, his left arm too had been improved a great deal by the new prosthetics and careful treatments. There were muscle tremors sometimes, and occasionally pain like his hand was being submerged in icy water, but it was nothing to the torment it had caused him before. The pain was the strange part. His prosthetic didn't feel it. It was like there was another hand and arm there, his hand and arm, the real one, superimposed over the other. But it was occasional, and bearable, and he was incredibly grateful for what he had.

His legs were the worst, his left worse than his right, and today it was the thing causing him trouble.

Obi-Wan had left him about half a thigh on each side, and he had woken up (from night? From a nap? He had lost track of time again) to the right nub horribly swollen, spasming painfully atop it's long artificial protrusion.

Back in the Empire there had been very little to do about such things. He secluded himself in his ball, or perhaps stayed in his Bacta tank if at home, ordered Commander Dogma not to allow anyone to disturb him, and meditated for as long as it continued. The pain fed his hate, as he reminded himself that this was why Kenobi would die, later on that this was why he was dead. That he had won.

It never felt much like winning.

He couldn't walk well, hardly at all in fact, when it happened, so in the Rebellion normally he would have simply gotten in his hoverchair and gone over to the medbay. These new legs were removed easily enough, and there were things that could be done to help soothe it. Bacta helped a great deal, and there were shots they could administer to stop the spasms. A droid could help him massage and work on the muscles as well, and by the time the problem was resolved it was generally time for his other treatments anyway.

None of these things were an option right now. He no longer indulged in Sith meditation, and he couldn't leave his cell without causing trouble. He was on pain meds, but they didn't seem to do much about this. This didn't happen particularly often, and his hope had been that it wouldn't be an issue while he was imprisoned. Apparently his body had other ideas.

Most of all he wanted his legs off. That would at least free the stumps to wiggle around as they pleased, and he could try his best to massage some of the tension out of them.

He was a skilled engineer. He was sure he could figure it out by himself. The biggest issue was that his legs were cut quite high, too high to move his pants leg up… and the cell was extremely public. He didn't particularly relish the prospect of stripping off his pants in front of his guards and anyone else who might happen to walk by.

If Obi-Wan could have just left him a few more inches to work with, maybe sliced them below the knee rather than well above, this would have been much less awkward to resolve.

And how exactly was he going to prop himself up with just one pillow? He needed at least three to keep from just sliding to the floor without his prosthetics, let alone actually feeling comfortable and secure.

Blast it, he was in too much kriffing pain for logistical challenges right now.

The toilet was behind a wall at least, maybe he could go there?

But how? Try to walk against the wall? Crawl?

If he even had crutches that would at least be something!

Finally he decided to use his blanket. He could spread it over his lap and legs and it would at least grant some measure of privacy. The guards might wonder what he was doing underneath, but he wanted these kriffing things off now.

He could plant his back against the wall and prop his pillow under both thighs. Hopefully that would be secure enough.

Steps: Turn off the power (accessible from a hatch somewhere towards the top), untwist and unfasten the leg from the metal plate at the end of his stump, then unplug the Artificial Neural System from that same metal plate. Set aside, do the other leg somehow without falling over and sliding off the narrow bunk.

Easy. He could do this. Who needed a droid for this? Not him.


Luke had returned quietly from his adventure on Nar Shaadaa with information and a plan. The information would have to be discussed with Ahsoka and his father and would hopefully be enough for them to identify the bounty hunter. From there he could work on building rapport and recruitment.

He checked the time. The plan he could put into action now.

His father needed to leave, but he also still needed further medical treatment. Which meant he and Ahsoka would have to go somewhere that treatment could be had. That would require discussion with his current doctor.

So to that end Luke turned his steps, heading toward her office until at last he found himself entering once more into the now-familiar warm, tasteful opulence of her office.

Dr. Garul was typing as he came in and sat down, and barely stopped long enough to throw him a tense fake smile over her monitor.

"Master Skywalker! What a surprise. What can I do for you today?"

She felt tense and angry under the professional veneer. Luke was worried he might be intruding. "Is now a bad time? You seem busy."

She finally pushed her chair back slightly, then waved dismissively toward her computer. "No, it's not." She paused. "You may as well know. I was writing another request for your father's release. He hasn't received any treatment in days. I don't care if they escort him with soldiers; they need to let him come back in. Three requests and I have yet to even hear back about any of them. I'm about ready to march down there and start knocking on doors."

Luke sat down across from her, finally getting down to business, "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about, at least sort of." He paused. "Considering the current circumstances, do you think he could be transferred somewhere else for his remaining treatment? A neutral hospital in the Outer Rim maybe? I know you have contacts who sneak you supplies."

Garul stared at him. Luke felt a bit awkward. He knew how much work she had put into this, and how much she was relying on it for her current research, but his father needed to leave. He needed to determine if that was possible.

Finally she spoke. "I see your point. However, here's the thing. While a lot of people have contributed toward this, they don't know who their supplies and advice are going to. There are so many logistical issues with this idea. For example, I am at a loss as to what name he could be transferred under. 'Anakin Skywalker' would be wanted by the Empire as a prominent Jedi, and 'Darth Vader' would be wanted by everyone for…everything. I'm not sure where you want him to go."

"But could it be done? I know you have contacts. If you pressed them, could you do it?"

She sighed, clearly thinking it over. "I could try."

"Maybe under an assumed name?" He continued. "It's just… things are clearly going badly here, and I want to look at our options."

"Have you discussed this with the Rebellion?"

There was no way in hell (as Han was fond of saying) that he was telling Rebel Leadership anything. "Not yet. I want something definite first."

"…I'll see what I can find."

He had successfully started the ball rolling on the plan. Now to discuss the bounty hunter situation.


He called his Master on the way, "Ahsoka, could you meet me in the brig? There is something we all need to discuss."

So far the day was going very well. Although that assessment changed slightly when he walked into the brig by Ahsoka's side to an alarming sight.

"What happened?!"
Ahsoka looked up at what had given Luke such a reaction, then her eyes went wide, startled.

Anakin was on the floor near his bunk, propped up with the wall at his back and his blanket wadded up on one side. A pillow shoved under his upper thighs left him tilted back at a slight angle, and Luke quickly realized the pants legs neatly folded up on it were empty. Looking around, he spotted his actual legs propped nearby, naked with the gold tops exposed, looking strangely like parts of some broken manikin thrown out into the street from a clothes shop somewhere.

"You've both seen me without legs before." His father said drily. "There is no need to be so dramatic."

Luke rephrased his question. "Are you… okay?"
Everyone keeps asking that question, Anakin thought as he shielded his feelings from them, gritted his teeth, and tightly gripped his thigh to subtly ride through the pain of another spasm. "I'm fine. Just tell me what's going on."

"Why are you on the floor?"

I fell off the kriffing bunk. "Because I am."

Luke decided to drop it. They had real work to do anyway. "I asked Ahsoka to meet me here because there is something we all need to discuss." He paused, drawing in a breath. "Han and I went after the bounty hunter."

"You what? Alone?" His father was clearly upset, as Luke had somewhat expected, and he waited while the man rounded on Ahsoka as well as he could from the floor. "How could you let him be in that situation? He could have been hurt! He could have died!"

"It's not her fault, Father. I went without telling anyone, against direct orders from command. I meant to go alone, but Han insisted on coming with me." He made eye contact with Anakin, defiantly staring him down. I judged myself trained and ready. I am not a child, and I make my own decisions. "Don't you want to know what I learned? I wanted to talk with you both so we could hopefully make an ID."

Anakin was still sulking and leeching something vague into the Force about 'unnecessary risks,' but Ahsoka gave Luke an encouraging smile. "I would love to know what you found out."

Luke nodded a quick appreciative acknowledgment and launched into his report. "Han's intel on her was… incomplete and misleading at best. He didn't know what he was looking at. I didn't see her face, and she wears a helmet with a voice changer, but I can tell she's an alien. I don't know what species, but her hands were a very stark white. She wields two sabers: curved hilts, sort of… striped silver and black. The blades are green… but it's no green I've ever seen. It's this… sickly bright green that trails mist behind it." He paused, thinking about what else he could say. "Oh! And she said she wasn't a Jedi. She called herself a… 'witch,' and mentioned her 'sisters' and how they were murdered." He looked from one to the other, hoping someone would have answers. "Maybe the Sith killed her family?"

"No." Ahsoka shook her head. "That sounds like a Nightsister."

Anakin disagreed. "Nightsisters don't use lightsabers."

"Where else besides Dathomir have you seen green smoke like that?"

Anakin turned to his son. "Luke. Did she do any tricks?"

"Tricks?" The boy wasn't sure what he meant.

"Yes, tricks. The Nightsisters use the Force, but in a very different way from the Jedi and Sith. They practice something they call 'Magicks.' Their abilities are focused on illusion, mind manipulation… sometimes midichlorian manipulation for necromancy… things like that. Did she do anything like that?"

"… I didn't see anything like that. The only Force abilities I saw were the usual combat-based ones. She was an excellent duelist, and she threw me around some."

Anakin turned to the woman, satisfied. "See? Not a Nightsister."

"Anakin, she literally mentioned her 'murdered sisters.'" Ahsoka paused, thinking, then smiled. "I know who it is. Ventress." She rushed to defend her answer as she saw Anakin moving to protest. "Ventress, like Maul, was taken from Dathomir as a toddler, so she didn't get any of their training. However, I spent some time with her, and she still felt a deep connection with her culture. And I know she felt isolated after Dooku cut her off; it's the reason she helped me when I was on the run. So, I can definitely see her considering herself a Nightsister, even if she has none of their training or techniques."

Anakin shook his head, face still tense with clearly hidden pain. "There's only one problem with that theory."

"What?"

"Ventress is dead. She fell to inquisitors ten years ago."

Ahsoka took a moment to absorb the statement, then she launched back in. "I highly doubt that. Anakin, I've seen the training the inquisitors had, and let's just say I wasn't very impressed."

"Obviously they weren't as well trained as you. My master didn't want me to make an army that could kill him. Which was totally fair because I was planning to make an army to kill him. However-"

This was going nowhere. Luke broke into the rapidly developing argument. "Do you remember if she had a partner? Or if there was any way that she could have lived?"

It took Anakin a moment to answer as he changed gears. "No, I don't remember. There were a lot of dead Jedi, and it was a long time ago. I just remember an inquisitor making that report."

"Is there any way we could verify this? Records maybe?"

Anakin nodded hesitantly. "Yeah. We kept records. They would be on Mustafar, in my castle there. But you couldn't get in on your own. You'd need me to disable security and such."

Neither of them doubted him. His tone was too sincere, and they were both too familiar with his technical ability and irrational levels of paranoia.

Luke nodded. "Then I suppose we can go to Mustafar once you're out of here." Ahsoka caught his eye with a worried look, but he ignored it, instead smiling at the man on the floor. "Thank you, Father. It means a lot." He paused. "Is there anything that I can do? You seem to be having a hard time."

Anakin shot him a smile, but it was insincere and he couldn't hide a hint of a grimace that suddenly pulled one corner of his lips taught. "No. I'm all right."

Normally, this was where Luke would withdraw, accepting that he was being shut out again because that was what his father needed. However, today he was through with doing that. He wanted to be useful for once, especially when he could see how much pain the man was in.

Not caring for security cameras, Luke disabled the ray shield and walked inside the cell to kneel beside his father. Anakin didn't protest, but shot him concerned looks as he got down to his level. Luke noticed Ahsoka pull back, doubtless giving them some privacy.

He pushed his love and concern through their bond, opening himself to the Force, trying to help his father understand his feelings and why he wanted to help. "What's wrong? Please, let me help."

Anakin kept up his stubborn silence a short time more. Luke could see him gripping his thigh, rigid with pain, and he couldn't help looking down at it.

Finally, Anakin spoke. "Do you ever… Do you ever have problems with your hand?"

His prosthetic was an awkward subject between them. While Father had apologized, Luke couldn't recall him ever directly mentioning it. Not that he had ever particularly wanted to extensively discuss their disastrous reunion on Bespin. Still, he answered truthfully, "No, I've never had problems. They did a fantastic job on it."

Anakin nodded tightly. "That's good. No pain? No phantom sensations?"

"Well, they said it was a possibility, but no, never." Luke paused, then spoke, deciding to cut through to the real subject. "Is that what's going on?"

Anakin's answer was less verbal, more of an affirmative feeling in their bond. "It… it happens sometimes… Bacta helps… but I haven't been to the medbay in days."

"Okay. I'll go tell them. Is there anything specific you need?"

"Um… Bacta, like I said… normally I go in a tank... maybe patches or wraps. They generally give me a hypo with some sort of muscle relaxer… I'll need a medidroid to get the legs back on. They have to be calibrated."

"Okay." Luke paused, uncertain as he considered his next move. There was something he dearly wanted to do, but he wasn't sure how it would be received. "Hey, Father?"

"Hm?"

He shook off his hesitancy and decided to just go for it. "I love you." He wrapped the man in a hug, careful not to topple him over in his current precarious position.

It took a few shocked seconds, but then his father returned the gesture, crushing Luke close and wrapping his presence around his son. "I love you too… I missed you so much all those years." Luke heard Anakin's voice shake slightly, and when they finally pulled apart he could see tears glistening in his eyes. However, he was smiling, wavering but genuine. "Look at me. Blast, I'm not supposed to be the one- you deserve better."

"I don't want better. I want to help." Luke comfortingly put his hand on his father's shoulder. "I'll be back soon. Don't worry. It'll be okay. Do you want to get on the bunk?"

"No, I'm fine here." Anakin replied. There was only so far he could fall off the floor. Might as well stay there.

"Thank you." He finally said as the young man left the cell. Luke nodded at him, then turned the ray shield back on. He was honestly shocked that no one had shown up in the time it had been off. Maybe with his father momentarily unable to walk no one cared.

His father and Ahsoka would have time to talk privately while he went to the medbay. But hopefully he wouldn't be shut out 'for his protection' anymore, and they had a lead on the Bounty Hunter.

Ventress. He still didn't quite know who that was, but he could ask Ahsoka later. If they were right, he now knew the name of one of his new targets.