Disclaimer: You know the drill ----
Authors note: Jedi Takato pointed out my spelling mistake, so I'm gonna apologize for that. I'm a pretty poor typist and, though I try to read my stories through a couple of times after I've written them, I sometimes miss a couple of errors. Hopefully it's not too much to detract from the story, but I'll apologize in advance in case anyone finds anymore ^^
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The forest was alive that night.
The jubilant shrieks of Ewok's filled the pine-scented air, Rebel fighters rushing to greet each other. Their faces shone with a post-victory glow. By now the news must have spread around half the galaxy - the Imperial Empire had fallen and the Emperor was dead! The galaxy was free once again! The celebrations that evening would stretch all the way to the outer-rim ---- but nowhere was the triumph felt more than on the small moon of Endor.
Leia stood slightly to one side, watching the festivities happily. Groups of Ewok's danced around bonfires, drumming the ground with whittled sticks and beating their paws on their furred chests. In between these flaming beacons, clusters of people danced along to the music provided. Leia couldn't help but laugh when she noticed Chewbacca in the midst of it all. He was at least three times larger than his Ewok dancing partner, but seemed to be enjoying himself. Every now and again he would lift his head skyward and give a cheerful bay, causing resounding squeaks of approval from the nearby tribal leaders.
The young woman gave a slight jump as a pair of strong arms fastened around her waist. She didn't need to turn around though - only one person in the universe had ever touched her like that.
Han leaned forward and rested his chin lightly on her shoulder. "Wanna join them?" he murmured hopefully.
Leia arched her eyebrows and smirked. "Funny, but you never struck me as the dancing type."
"There's a lot of things that you don't know about me, princess. Though if you're not up to dancing, I can think of other ways that we can celebrate together---"
His impudence was awarded with a sharp elbow in the gut. The former- smuggler winced, taking a step backwards.
"Agh! I take that as a no?"
"Got it in one." Leia shook her head, smiling warmly. She walked up to press her body against his, raising her head to kiss him lightly on the cheek. She noted the self-conscious blush that crept into his cheeks. Han Solo might like to act like an accomplished womanizer, but Leia knew all to well just how bashful he could be. It amused her to tease him like this.
Han grinned nervously. "I'll be more careful next time." He watched her consideringly for a moment, eyes suddenly clouded with a look of thought. "How are you feeling?" He asked, gingerly touching where she had been injured earlier.
She placed her hand over his and squeezed his fingers. She looked up, meeting his gaze. "I told you, I'm fine. The blast only winged me." Reaching up, she ran her fingers through his tousled hair. "Stop worrying."
"I always worry about you."
His voice had lowered to a soft murmur of honesty. Leia nodded slowly. "I know."
They watched each other silently for a moment, a look of understanding passing between them. The noise from the celebrations seemed to fade into the background and suddenly, for a brief shining second, it was as though they were the only two people on the whole of Endor --- in the whole galaxy even.
It was a very special feeling.
"Luke's back."
"Hm?"
Han continued to watch her lovingly. "Luke. I got a message from him a couple of minutes ago; he says he'll be landing soon."
Leia smiled at the sound of her brother's name. "How is he?"
"He sounded good to me."
Leia nodded, closing her eyes briefly. "I knew he would be," she said quietly, more to herself than Han. She looked up. "Where's he docking?"
"On the south side, in the Imperial camp. He doesn't want you up there though; he gave me specific instructions about that."
The dark haired woman lifted a quizzical eyebrow. "Oh? Why's that?"
Han shrugged indifferently. "Telepathy's a little out of my depth. I'll leave all those hocus-pocus mind powers to Luke, if you don't mind."
He was about to make a joke when he noticed a look of deep thought pass over Leia's features. Her head lowered slightly, meditative frown flitting across her smooth forehead.
"What's wrong?"
She glanced up at him, still frowning. "I-I don't know. Just for a moment there --- I thought I felt ---" She paused, searching for the words. The feeling was still there, dark and intangible, dancing phantom-like at the edge of her consciousness. She tried to hold on to it but it remained illusive, always just beyond her reach. Finally, she sighed and shrugged. "Never mind."
Han considered her carefully. Over the past couple of years he'd come to know Leia pretty well. But there were times --- when she got that look in her eyes, that distant, oddly focused look --- it was as though she were listening to something that only she could hear. Han didn't know what it was --- couldn't understand it. It would always be something that he would be unable to share with her.
Actually, he'd seen Luke wear the same look often --- usually when he went into one of his Jedi all-knowing-all-seeing phases. Funny, but now that he knew the truth, it surprised him at just how alike those two were. Luke and Leia - brother and sister.
It seemed so obvious with the gift of hindsight.
"Hey, come on now. You know Luke! He probably just doesn't want to tear you away from the party." Han assured her brightly.
Leia hesitated uncertainly. "Do you think so?" She didn't sound sure.
"Of course I do. He knows how much this day means to you." He beamed warmly down at her and, placing his hand on her shoulder, began to steer her into the crowd of revelers. "No one has worked harder to see this Rebellion thing through than you. Why would you want to spend the night in a lading base waiting for Luke when you could be right here watching Chewy make an ass out of himself?"
She gave a low laugh, nodding slightly. "Alright, alright. I'll stay here."
Han leaned forward and softly kissed the top of her head. "Glad to hear it," he murmured.
Leia felt his hand slip into hers, and together they went to stand with Lando and the Droids. Leia smiled and joked with the rest of them, immersing herself in the euphoria of victory.
It was a great day for the Rebellion.
---- And yet the young woman found herself unable to be rid of the strange feeling that haunted her. Luke was safe, she knew that. So why was she so worried? She should have been happy, but something kept pulling her away -- - a vague, ghostly feeling of unease.
It was disturbing.
She glanced heavenwards. The night sky was a star-filled void, dim lavender glow on the horizon the last remnants of dusk. High above her head, the exploded fragments of the Death Star still glittered, testimony to its recent destruction. She stared at it silently for a moment, reassuring herself that it was truly gone. There could be no doubt about it. The Death Star was no more.
So why couldn't she shake this ominous feeling?
Unconsciously, she shivered and huddled closer to Han.
The shuttle began its descent into Endor's lower atmosphere. The landing zone had, only hours before hand, been in the heart of the Imperial camp. However, when the Death Star was destroyed, overrunning the ground troops had been a piece of cake. The moon was in Rebel hands now.
Two Rebel fighters stood in wait at the edge of the landing zone, blasters resting against their shoulders. Luke Skywalker was a highly respected member of the Resistance. His prowess as a solder had become the stuff of legend amongst the younger recruits, and the story of how he destroyed the original Death Star had been long secured in the achieves of history.
It was an honor to welcome him home on such a day.
The two young men watched as the shuttle landed, giving off a hiss of steam as its feet made contact with the ground.
There was a lengthy pause. The forest around then began to quieten, leaves of nearby trees rustling in the cool night-time breeze. Far off in the distance, they could hear the sound of the Ewok revelry. A glimmer of fireworks exploded against the sky in blazing gold and green. The party must be been in full swing by now.
The doorway to the shuttle opened suddenly. The Rebel fighters stood stiffly to attention, hands raised in a practiced solute.
After a moment, a figure emerged from the shaded doorway. A young man staggered out into the light, dark clothes torn and grimy, skin smudged with black marks. Luke Skywalker.
And he was not alone.
The two men recoiled in horror, expressions swiftly changing from well- rehearsed dignity to outright shock.
Darth Vader was still unconscious. His helmeted head lolled heavily forward, legs dragging uselessly behind him. Luke supported his father's weight on his own, swaying slightly as the edged his way down the runway. Vader's arm was placed around Luke's neck and he leaned drunkenly against the younger man.
Luke stopped, and looked up at the watching Rebels. He looked tired and out of breath. "I need some medic's down here right away," he called out to them.
Neither moved, staring in terror at the caped apparition before them.
Luke felt his anger rise. "That's an order!"
The two men paused, and then seemed to regain their senses. Stumbling somewhat, they both began to run towards the nearby building. Luke wasn't sure what they were going for - medical help or more guards. His plan to get his father aid suddenly didn't like such a good idea. However, it was too late to turn back now.
"Hold on, father." He murmured softly. "Just hold on."
"This is highly unorthodox! I don't think that I need to remind you who that man is!"
Luke ignored the man and concentrated his energy on the black figure on the stretcher. They were hurrying down a pristine white corridor towards the Infirmary. Luke could only hope that the Rebel medics knew how to use Imperial medical technology - the Infirmary and all its equipment had only been claimed by the Rebel's a matter of hours before hand.
"Do you know how many of our men that man has killed?!"
Luke gave a growl of frustration and shook his head, increasing his pace so that he walked alongside his father. Darth Vader was being carried on a stretcher by four Rebel medics, and it seemed that it was taking all their strength simply to lift him. Vader hadn't regained consciousness. His respirator emitted a slow, horse gasp of air, chest rising and falling regularly. Against the spotless white of the corridor, the Sith lord suddenly seemed impossibly black, helmet gleaming like polished jet.
"I just can't understand what must have possessed you to do it!" The field sergeant trailed the Jedi helplessly, bristling with rage and confusion. "Why? Why bring that --- that --- *monster* here!" He grabbed Luke by the shoulder and forced him to look at him in the face. "The Commander's will not stand for this!"
Luke clenched his jaw together. With deliberate calmness, he shrugged the sergeant's hand away. "The Commander's are not to hear of this," he told him coolly. "Not yet anyway. I will tell them myself, tomorrow, when the celebrations are over."
"But you can't seriously-"
"Don't make me pull rank on you, sergeant."
The other man spluttered for a moment, then trailed into silence. The four medics continued down the corridor with the stretcher, automatic doors opening to let them through. Then the doors hissed closed, leaving Luke alone with the sergeant.
"What is your name?"
The man watched him unhappily. "Field Sergeant De'Lahara --- sir."
"The last thing I need is for this to turn into something ugly, De'Lahara. We're just going to treat him --- that's all. He's very seriously injured."
De'Lahara looked up, but found that he couldn't quite meet Luke's eye. He blinked hurriedly and looked away. There was a power to Skywalker --- a kind of strength that didn't seem natural. It unnerved him.
"Darth Vader," he said, attempting to regain control of the situation, "Is one of the greatest enemies of the Rebellion." He pointed a trembling finger in the direction of the Infirmary. "If we help him, we'll be aiding a blood-thirty murderer. He could turn on us at any time. And then where would we be? No one, barring yourself sir, has ever survived combat with him. We'd be signing our own death orders!"
Luke shook his head. "You are wrong."
The sergeant grew bold. "And I suppose the Force told you so?"
"Yes, in a way."
De'Lahara fidgeted, glancing quickly to the now closed doors. "He is a tyrant! This is madness."
"That is not your decision to make."
"Nor is it yours!"
Luke raised his eyebrows slightly. "Oh no?" His voice lowered to a cool, almost threatening, murmur.
The man frowned and shook his head. "I-I don't understand." He looked up at the Jedi desperately. "Why?"
Luke paused. "I have my reasons. That's all you need to know."
"You realize that I must report this to the Commanders. They will need to know about this." De'Lahara told him shakily.
The temptation to use his mind powers was suddenly overwhelming. Luke closed his eyes and waited for the feeling to subside. He didn't want to go down that road - not until it was absolutely necessary. He'd had a close call as far as the Dark Side was concerned, and he didn't want to put himself into that situation again. The enormity of his powers had only just full occurred to him ---- he didn't want to use them for wrong, no matter how good his intentions might be.
Luke nodded and gave a weary sigh. "You do what you think is right."
What did it matter anyway? The Rebel Leaders would have to be informed sooner or later. Darth Vader in the medi-bay wasn't something that you could just keep under wraps. He was confident that he could win the Commander's over ---- at least for the time being.
And after that ----? Luke didn't like to think that far ahead. He had to keep his mind on the here and now; otherwise he would lose his focus completely. He was a Jedi now --- it was time that he started thinking like one.
He watched as sergeant De'Lahara scuttled away down the corridor, most likely to inform the first officer that he could find.
Luke wasted no time.
Turning on his heel, he strode quickly down to the Infirmary.
All around him was darkness. Sweet oblivion. No need to think --- no need to feel --- content to simply exist.
And yet he was aware. Even unconscious, his being was in perfect interface with the Force. It surrounded him with its presence --- blinding him --- flowing through him. He was one with the Force.
If he had had any presence of mind, it would have occurred to him to wonder if this was how Obi-Wan Kenobi had felt when he ----
The unexpected pressure of fingers on his shoulder snapped Vader into instant consciousness. His hand reached up automatically with a suddenness that took the other by surprise. There was a satisfying scream of fear. The Sith Lord griped tighter, eyes flying open behind his mask.
Where was his blasted lightsaber?
Luke heard the cries for help before he'd even made it halfway down the corridor. He quickened his pace, breaking into a run as he rounded the corner. He burst into the Infirmary --- apparently just in the nick of time.
Three of the medics were cowering against the opposite walls, edging desperately towards the panic button next to the door. They stared in horror the centre of the room, Luke quickly understanding why.
Darth Vader had his hand around the neck of the fourth medic and had lifted him clean off the ground. The medic's feet kicked uselessly at thin air, his face flushed deeply scarlet with blood pressure. He looked like he was about to pass out. Vader didn't appear to be much healthier. His respirator wheezed hoarsely, rushed and unnatural, and the arm that bore the medic's weight trembled.
"Father---"
Darth Vader hesitated, looking over to his son. He swayed slightly. "Luke?"
Luke took a step further into the room. "Father --- please."
The medic gave a yelp as he was dropped roughly to the ground. The robed figure shivered, rocking uncertainly on his feet. Behind the black helmet, his eyes were struggling to maintain focus.
"---Luke---?"
Vader buckled, falling to his knees. Luke was instantly at his side, gripping his father's shoulders in a futile attempt to steady him. The older man sagged weakly in his arms.
Luke looked quickly up at the medics. They continued to watch fearfully, but they were no longer intent on reaching the panic button. He gave a quick nod. "Its okay," he assured them "He's fine now."
Darth Vader felt himself drifting back into unconsciousness. His eyelids pulled down as though by an invisible weight, warm numbness taking his senses away. He struggled briefly against the feeling.
"It's alright, father. You can let go."
The voice came to him as though from a great distance. His son --- Luke --- he was calling out to him from the darkness. Vader tried to reply, but found that he didn't have the breath to form the words. He fought feebly against the growing oblivion. He didn't want this ----
Finally he found that he did not have a choice in the matter. He was too weak to resist.
Darth Vader slipped back into unconsciousness, his son's final words ringing in his ears.
"---You can let go---"
Authors note: Jedi Takato pointed out my spelling mistake, so I'm gonna apologize for that. I'm a pretty poor typist and, though I try to read my stories through a couple of times after I've written them, I sometimes miss a couple of errors. Hopefully it's not too much to detract from the story, but I'll apologize in advance in case anyone finds anymore ^^
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The forest was alive that night.
The jubilant shrieks of Ewok's filled the pine-scented air, Rebel fighters rushing to greet each other. Their faces shone with a post-victory glow. By now the news must have spread around half the galaxy - the Imperial Empire had fallen and the Emperor was dead! The galaxy was free once again! The celebrations that evening would stretch all the way to the outer-rim ---- but nowhere was the triumph felt more than on the small moon of Endor.
Leia stood slightly to one side, watching the festivities happily. Groups of Ewok's danced around bonfires, drumming the ground with whittled sticks and beating their paws on their furred chests. In between these flaming beacons, clusters of people danced along to the music provided. Leia couldn't help but laugh when she noticed Chewbacca in the midst of it all. He was at least three times larger than his Ewok dancing partner, but seemed to be enjoying himself. Every now and again he would lift his head skyward and give a cheerful bay, causing resounding squeaks of approval from the nearby tribal leaders.
The young woman gave a slight jump as a pair of strong arms fastened around her waist. She didn't need to turn around though - only one person in the universe had ever touched her like that.
Han leaned forward and rested his chin lightly on her shoulder. "Wanna join them?" he murmured hopefully.
Leia arched her eyebrows and smirked. "Funny, but you never struck me as the dancing type."
"There's a lot of things that you don't know about me, princess. Though if you're not up to dancing, I can think of other ways that we can celebrate together---"
His impudence was awarded with a sharp elbow in the gut. The former- smuggler winced, taking a step backwards.
"Agh! I take that as a no?"
"Got it in one." Leia shook her head, smiling warmly. She walked up to press her body against his, raising her head to kiss him lightly on the cheek. She noted the self-conscious blush that crept into his cheeks. Han Solo might like to act like an accomplished womanizer, but Leia knew all to well just how bashful he could be. It amused her to tease him like this.
Han grinned nervously. "I'll be more careful next time." He watched her consideringly for a moment, eyes suddenly clouded with a look of thought. "How are you feeling?" He asked, gingerly touching where she had been injured earlier.
She placed her hand over his and squeezed his fingers. She looked up, meeting his gaze. "I told you, I'm fine. The blast only winged me." Reaching up, she ran her fingers through his tousled hair. "Stop worrying."
"I always worry about you."
His voice had lowered to a soft murmur of honesty. Leia nodded slowly. "I know."
They watched each other silently for a moment, a look of understanding passing between them. The noise from the celebrations seemed to fade into the background and suddenly, for a brief shining second, it was as though they were the only two people on the whole of Endor --- in the whole galaxy even.
It was a very special feeling.
"Luke's back."
"Hm?"
Han continued to watch her lovingly. "Luke. I got a message from him a couple of minutes ago; he says he'll be landing soon."
Leia smiled at the sound of her brother's name. "How is he?"
"He sounded good to me."
Leia nodded, closing her eyes briefly. "I knew he would be," she said quietly, more to herself than Han. She looked up. "Where's he docking?"
"On the south side, in the Imperial camp. He doesn't want you up there though; he gave me specific instructions about that."
The dark haired woman lifted a quizzical eyebrow. "Oh? Why's that?"
Han shrugged indifferently. "Telepathy's a little out of my depth. I'll leave all those hocus-pocus mind powers to Luke, if you don't mind."
He was about to make a joke when he noticed a look of deep thought pass over Leia's features. Her head lowered slightly, meditative frown flitting across her smooth forehead.
"What's wrong?"
She glanced up at him, still frowning. "I-I don't know. Just for a moment there --- I thought I felt ---" She paused, searching for the words. The feeling was still there, dark and intangible, dancing phantom-like at the edge of her consciousness. She tried to hold on to it but it remained illusive, always just beyond her reach. Finally, she sighed and shrugged. "Never mind."
Han considered her carefully. Over the past couple of years he'd come to know Leia pretty well. But there were times --- when she got that look in her eyes, that distant, oddly focused look --- it was as though she were listening to something that only she could hear. Han didn't know what it was --- couldn't understand it. It would always be something that he would be unable to share with her.
Actually, he'd seen Luke wear the same look often --- usually when he went into one of his Jedi all-knowing-all-seeing phases. Funny, but now that he knew the truth, it surprised him at just how alike those two were. Luke and Leia - brother and sister.
It seemed so obvious with the gift of hindsight.
"Hey, come on now. You know Luke! He probably just doesn't want to tear you away from the party." Han assured her brightly.
Leia hesitated uncertainly. "Do you think so?" She didn't sound sure.
"Of course I do. He knows how much this day means to you." He beamed warmly down at her and, placing his hand on her shoulder, began to steer her into the crowd of revelers. "No one has worked harder to see this Rebellion thing through than you. Why would you want to spend the night in a lading base waiting for Luke when you could be right here watching Chewy make an ass out of himself?"
She gave a low laugh, nodding slightly. "Alright, alright. I'll stay here."
Han leaned forward and softly kissed the top of her head. "Glad to hear it," he murmured.
Leia felt his hand slip into hers, and together they went to stand with Lando and the Droids. Leia smiled and joked with the rest of them, immersing herself in the euphoria of victory.
It was a great day for the Rebellion.
---- And yet the young woman found herself unable to be rid of the strange feeling that haunted her. Luke was safe, she knew that. So why was she so worried? She should have been happy, but something kept pulling her away -- - a vague, ghostly feeling of unease.
It was disturbing.
She glanced heavenwards. The night sky was a star-filled void, dim lavender glow on the horizon the last remnants of dusk. High above her head, the exploded fragments of the Death Star still glittered, testimony to its recent destruction. She stared at it silently for a moment, reassuring herself that it was truly gone. There could be no doubt about it. The Death Star was no more.
So why couldn't she shake this ominous feeling?
Unconsciously, she shivered and huddled closer to Han.
The shuttle began its descent into Endor's lower atmosphere. The landing zone had, only hours before hand, been in the heart of the Imperial camp. However, when the Death Star was destroyed, overrunning the ground troops had been a piece of cake. The moon was in Rebel hands now.
Two Rebel fighters stood in wait at the edge of the landing zone, blasters resting against their shoulders. Luke Skywalker was a highly respected member of the Resistance. His prowess as a solder had become the stuff of legend amongst the younger recruits, and the story of how he destroyed the original Death Star had been long secured in the achieves of history.
It was an honor to welcome him home on such a day.
The two young men watched as the shuttle landed, giving off a hiss of steam as its feet made contact with the ground.
There was a lengthy pause. The forest around then began to quieten, leaves of nearby trees rustling in the cool night-time breeze. Far off in the distance, they could hear the sound of the Ewok revelry. A glimmer of fireworks exploded against the sky in blazing gold and green. The party must be been in full swing by now.
The doorway to the shuttle opened suddenly. The Rebel fighters stood stiffly to attention, hands raised in a practiced solute.
After a moment, a figure emerged from the shaded doorway. A young man staggered out into the light, dark clothes torn and grimy, skin smudged with black marks. Luke Skywalker.
And he was not alone.
The two men recoiled in horror, expressions swiftly changing from well- rehearsed dignity to outright shock.
Darth Vader was still unconscious. His helmeted head lolled heavily forward, legs dragging uselessly behind him. Luke supported his father's weight on his own, swaying slightly as the edged his way down the runway. Vader's arm was placed around Luke's neck and he leaned drunkenly against the younger man.
Luke stopped, and looked up at the watching Rebels. He looked tired and out of breath. "I need some medic's down here right away," he called out to them.
Neither moved, staring in terror at the caped apparition before them.
Luke felt his anger rise. "That's an order!"
The two men paused, and then seemed to regain their senses. Stumbling somewhat, they both began to run towards the nearby building. Luke wasn't sure what they were going for - medical help or more guards. His plan to get his father aid suddenly didn't like such a good idea. However, it was too late to turn back now.
"Hold on, father." He murmured softly. "Just hold on."
"This is highly unorthodox! I don't think that I need to remind you who that man is!"
Luke ignored the man and concentrated his energy on the black figure on the stretcher. They were hurrying down a pristine white corridor towards the Infirmary. Luke could only hope that the Rebel medics knew how to use Imperial medical technology - the Infirmary and all its equipment had only been claimed by the Rebel's a matter of hours before hand.
"Do you know how many of our men that man has killed?!"
Luke gave a growl of frustration and shook his head, increasing his pace so that he walked alongside his father. Darth Vader was being carried on a stretcher by four Rebel medics, and it seemed that it was taking all their strength simply to lift him. Vader hadn't regained consciousness. His respirator emitted a slow, horse gasp of air, chest rising and falling regularly. Against the spotless white of the corridor, the Sith lord suddenly seemed impossibly black, helmet gleaming like polished jet.
"I just can't understand what must have possessed you to do it!" The field sergeant trailed the Jedi helplessly, bristling with rage and confusion. "Why? Why bring that --- that --- *monster* here!" He grabbed Luke by the shoulder and forced him to look at him in the face. "The Commander's will not stand for this!"
Luke clenched his jaw together. With deliberate calmness, he shrugged the sergeant's hand away. "The Commander's are not to hear of this," he told him coolly. "Not yet anyway. I will tell them myself, tomorrow, when the celebrations are over."
"But you can't seriously-"
"Don't make me pull rank on you, sergeant."
The other man spluttered for a moment, then trailed into silence. The four medics continued down the corridor with the stretcher, automatic doors opening to let them through. Then the doors hissed closed, leaving Luke alone with the sergeant.
"What is your name?"
The man watched him unhappily. "Field Sergeant De'Lahara --- sir."
"The last thing I need is for this to turn into something ugly, De'Lahara. We're just going to treat him --- that's all. He's very seriously injured."
De'Lahara looked up, but found that he couldn't quite meet Luke's eye. He blinked hurriedly and looked away. There was a power to Skywalker --- a kind of strength that didn't seem natural. It unnerved him.
"Darth Vader," he said, attempting to regain control of the situation, "Is one of the greatest enemies of the Rebellion." He pointed a trembling finger in the direction of the Infirmary. "If we help him, we'll be aiding a blood-thirty murderer. He could turn on us at any time. And then where would we be? No one, barring yourself sir, has ever survived combat with him. We'd be signing our own death orders!"
Luke shook his head. "You are wrong."
The sergeant grew bold. "And I suppose the Force told you so?"
"Yes, in a way."
De'Lahara fidgeted, glancing quickly to the now closed doors. "He is a tyrant! This is madness."
"That is not your decision to make."
"Nor is it yours!"
Luke raised his eyebrows slightly. "Oh no?" His voice lowered to a cool, almost threatening, murmur.
The man frowned and shook his head. "I-I don't understand." He looked up at the Jedi desperately. "Why?"
Luke paused. "I have my reasons. That's all you need to know."
"You realize that I must report this to the Commanders. They will need to know about this." De'Lahara told him shakily.
The temptation to use his mind powers was suddenly overwhelming. Luke closed his eyes and waited for the feeling to subside. He didn't want to go down that road - not until it was absolutely necessary. He'd had a close call as far as the Dark Side was concerned, and he didn't want to put himself into that situation again. The enormity of his powers had only just full occurred to him ---- he didn't want to use them for wrong, no matter how good his intentions might be.
Luke nodded and gave a weary sigh. "You do what you think is right."
What did it matter anyway? The Rebel Leaders would have to be informed sooner or later. Darth Vader in the medi-bay wasn't something that you could just keep under wraps. He was confident that he could win the Commander's over ---- at least for the time being.
And after that ----? Luke didn't like to think that far ahead. He had to keep his mind on the here and now; otherwise he would lose his focus completely. He was a Jedi now --- it was time that he started thinking like one.
He watched as sergeant De'Lahara scuttled away down the corridor, most likely to inform the first officer that he could find.
Luke wasted no time.
Turning on his heel, he strode quickly down to the Infirmary.
All around him was darkness. Sweet oblivion. No need to think --- no need to feel --- content to simply exist.
And yet he was aware. Even unconscious, his being was in perfect interface with the Force. It surrounded him with its presence --- blinding him --- flowing through him. He was one with the Force.
If he had had any presence of mind, it would have occurred to him to wonder if this was how Obi-Wan Kenobi had felt when he ----
The unexpected pressure of fingers on his shoulder snapped Vader into instant consciousness. His hand reached up automatically with a suddenness that took the other by surprise. There was a satisfying scream of fear. The Sith Lord griped tighter, eyes flying open behind his mask.
Where was his blasted lightsaber?
Luke heard the cries for help before he'd even made it halfway down the corridor. He quickened his pace, breaking into a run as he rounded the corner. He burst into the Infirmary --- apparently just in the nick of time.
Three of the medics were cowering against the opposite walls, edging desperately towards the panic button next to the door. They stared in horror the centre of the room, Luke quickly understanding why.
Darth Vader had his hand around the neck of the fourth medic and had lifted him clean off the ground. The medic's feet kicked uselessly at thin air, his face flushed deeply scarlet with blood pressure. He looked like he was about to pass out. Vader didn't appear to be much healthier. His respirator wheezed hoarsely, rushed and unnatural, and the arm that bore the medic's weight trembled.
"Father---"
Darth Vader hesitated, looking over to his son. He swayed slightly. "Luke?"
Luke took a step further into the room. "Father --- please."
The medic gave a yelp as he was dropped roughly to the ground. The robed figure shivered, rocking uncertainly on his feet. Behind the black helmet, his eyes were struggling to maintain focus.
"---Luke---?"
Vader buckled, falling to his knees. Luke was instantly at his side, gripping his father's shoulders in a futile attempt to steady him. The older man sagged weakly in his arms.
Luke looked quickly up at the medics. They continued to watch fearfully, but they were no longer intent on reaching the panic button. He gave a quick nod. "Its okay," he assured them "He's fine now."
Darth Vader felt himself drifting back into unconsciousness. His eyelids pulled down as though by an invisible weight, warm numbness taking his senses away. He struggled briefly against the feeling.
"It's alright, father. You can let go."
The voice came to him as though from a great distance. His son --- Luke --- he was calling out to him from the darkness. Vader tried to reply, but found that he didn't have the breath to form the words. He fought feebly against the growing oblivion. He didn't want this ----
Finally he found that he did not have a choice in the matter. He was too weak to resist.
Darth Vader slipped back into unconsciousness, his son's final words ringing in his ears.
"---You can let go---"