Feedback is welcome! I hope you enjoy this. This is as much a character study as a fic for me. This is my first Vader fic, so be gentle. :)
Please read/review!
DISCLAIMER: George Lucas owns Star Wars. I do not. I don't claim to own it, and I will never own it. I'm only playing with your toys, GL! Please don't sue me! I don't have enough money as it is!
This fic can also be found on the Skywalking e-mail group and at the Jedi Council forums here.
a fan fiction written by Mr. P
The green lightsaber came down like lightning, and his hand fell down the gaping shaft to his right. With it went his crimson lightsaber, careening off into the empty space of the reactor core. Surprisingly, he felt little pain. No doubt it would shut itself off automatically before it could do any damage. But what good would a lightsaber do against a giant reactor shaft? Just the same question as before. And just like a snub fighter would do no good against a battle station.
And now, it was just the same as before, all over again. Except that it was turned maniacally around, twisted and manipulated for Luke. For now, it was him cornered up against the railing, helpless against the railing of the catwalk; now it was his son who stood before him, saber at the ready, ready to strike him down and take his father's place at the Emperor's side. Now, it was --
"Good!" rasped Palpatine. Or was it Sidious? He couldn't remember. Everything was so confusing now. Palpatine hobbled over to young Luke on his walking-stick, and gazed at him with his piercing yellow eyes. "Kill him! You hate has made you powerful! Now, fulfill your destiny and take your father's place at my side!"
He watched his son through his mechanical eyes, focusing on young Luke -- his son's eye's. He had never really seen the boy before... and he had come so close to killing him before. Before he even knew him. No!
He was confused, helplessly so. It was maddening, worse than the paralysis of his legs and arms and having to live on an iron lung for twenty some-odd years. Twenty years... such a long time ago. And yet, it seemed so far away. His memories were all a blur now, for some reason. Today was some day. It had something to do with a person -- other than him... what day was it? So maddening. He was filled with rage at it for a moment, but then realized that there was no one to be mad at. No Obi-Wan to blame his problems on now.
What was he to do? Before him stood his son, before the Emperor. And it frightened him. For his son would take his place at the Emperor's side, and kill him. Destroy him, take all records of him out of the files -- whichever ones were left after they had been purged shortly after the Clone Wars -- and then become Palpatine's manservant. Of course, he thought, the prospect of becoming Emperor himself draws him to the idea. For soon, he thinks, the Emperor will be dead -- and him his heir. But that was not so, and he knew it. For Palpatine did not plan on dying; he planned on --
No, he could not even think about it. It shocked him, disgusted him now, the plan to hijack baby bodies and use them as his own. He wondered why. Before, he had a vague memory of suggesting the plan to his Master. But now, his mind became clearer, his vision somehow better. He was proud of his son, really. No one had ever bested him in combat before... he would truly be a great apprentice of Palpatine's.
But what did he want? He would die. There was no doubt. He had accepted his fate, contrary to all of the Emperor's teachings which precluded the use of the Force to make the Force bend to your will for your own purposes. His son would take up the spot that he had once filled -- and would enjoy it as well. But would he enjoy it? He would be dead -- among the cosmos, being torn apart by the chaos of the Dark Side. No doubt. He would never find rest... if only he had known this before.
Luke appeared in green tones before him, the image reconstructed by the cameras that worked where his eyes should have been. Where his eyes would have been too, if it hadn't been for Ob --
He stared at his son, whose back was turned to him. No doubt. His back was turned to him; he was no longer acknowledged as among the living. He never really had been, ever since he had been forced to don such a mask as he wore now. Luke stood suddenly erect, and exclaimed proudly: "Never! Never will I turn to the dark side! You have failed, Palpatine. I am a Jedi, as my father was before me."
No, that wasn't true. Maybe it was, in his point of view, but he knew that he had failed the Jedi's test of him. Long ago. He had never really been a Jedi. And now, he never would. But now, he was not filled with pride for his son. Maybe he was. He had not accepted Palpatine's offer! He had passed his test, surely, if this is what Obi-Wan had set out for him to do to become a Jedi. He could think of nothing else that Obi-Wan could have mandated now. Obi-Wan, always the one to delegate the hard tasks to the ones least prepared to do the job. But Obi-Wan didn't really have anyone else to give the job to, this time...
In any case, now all he could feel was fear. It was a strange feeling of fear... he had always welcomed it before; it lent him power, his powerful fear that he wielded with others. But never had he felt fear himself, and it made him feel like he was perspiring in his suit -- though that was physically impossible, as his sweat glands had been burned off long ago. Long, long ago. But now... he felt fear. Fear for his son. What would Palpatine do to him? Would he kill him and mutilate his body like he had done to so many other Jedi in the past, during the great purges after the Clone Wars? Maybe -- but he didn't want to think about it.
Luke tossed his lightsaber away like a toy. Rightly so, thought Vader. It will do you little good now.
But what day was it? It was plaguing him like a fly which would not let itself be swatted away on a hot day on Tatooine. And why were his memories of his childhood coming back to him now, after all these years? That was a different man, a different lifetime. That man no longer existed. But she... she existed --
are you an angel?
-- and suddenly, it came to him. It was the anniversary of his marriage with Queen Amidala of the Naboo! He had forgotten about it for so many years... in fact, time had lost its value to him. He lived by the respirator; so long as it kept humming along its merry way, he kept moving his legs and arms. Time had had no meaning to him. It was just another day. Just another year. Nothing special, no hoopla. But this day, wasn't it strange? Ironic? Ironic that his son would be killed on his anniversary, that his daughter soon afterwards when Palpatine turned this machine on the sanctuary moon? And him as well?
Perhaps. Perhaps not.
Wasn't it ironic how he would be erased, once and for all, on the day which he used to prize above all others? No, that was not him who prized that day. That was Anakin. Another man, another lifetime. That man was dead. Obi-Wan killed him. But wasn't it odd? His legacy, himself, destroyed all on the day that had secured that he would have a legacy, that he would never die. Such an odd anniversary. And all those that he had missed! He wondered what he would have given Padmé all those times. Perhaps --
"So be it, Jedi."
Palpatine almost spat, the way he said it. But Vader knew that his mouth was far too dry -- the Dark Side had taken its toll on his body, just as it had taken its toll on Vader's. It had happened to take the majority of that toll on his face, for one reason or another. It had always seemed a monstrosity to Vader, how such a helpful thing as the Dark Side would help... but then take away as well. A symbiotic relationship. Giving and taking. But all that Palpatine had been doing was taking... and so the Force had returned the favor. Vader smiled painfully behind the mask.
And what had he tried to do, all these years? Take, as well. And look what had happened to him! A cyborg, more a machine than a man. Wasn't it odd? It felt very odd, now, for his mask to be on. It felt suffocating, it felt... it felt wrong. It felt like he was trapped. Trapped behind a mask. And his son would never see him for the man he was before he died... no.
It was too confusing. Vader didn't know what to think, let alone do.
"If you will not be turned, you will be destroyed!"
With that, the worst of his fears came to be. No, not this! Of all things... not his son! Vader had stood by and watched countless Jedi get fried to bits by the Emperor, utterly destroyed, cast into the abyss of the Dark Side before, during the great Purges. But this... this he could not watch. And at that thought, he mustered the strength to stand, and limped to his Emperor's side.
For the Emperor was assaulting young Luke with purple and white bolts of dark energy, energy which was pent up in him from over the years. Anger at Vader for losing, anger at the son of Skywalker refusing to join him. He would have to find another apprentice... perhaps he thought of Leia?
Yes, he thinks of that, he thought. I really am the one who has betrayed. Not Obi-Wan. For it was Vader who said the ominous words: Sister? Sister!
Luke was in pain. Vader saw that clear enough. He was writhing with the stuff, clutching a power generator's node and screaming. He was curled up like an animal, in fear of the Emperor's power. He was at an ebb of his power, unable to fight off the Emperor. He was just too strong for him. If Palpatine ever asked Luke to join him again... he would have no power to refuse. It was unbearable... truly unbearable. And what day was it? No, Anakin would not let his son be destroyed. For his legacy... his legacy must live on.
And Luke was his. Most obvious, actually. But, Padmé -- did she still live? Anakin had no idea. He would have to get out of here alive, find her. But she could be dead But she was not his legacy. He had no part in her, no claim for her. That had been another man, another life. He never really had deserved her in the first place; he had no idea what it was about him that had attracted her to him --
yes, you deserved me. maybe now you still do
-- but first, he would have to renounce this stupid suit that he had donned for twenty years. But... he couldn't. He could not live without it. If he took it off, he would die.
So be it.
And his daughter would die. There was no doubt. Even if Luke lived, and Palpatine died, Jerjerrod would turn the Death Star on the Sanctuary Moon, if they ever brought down the shield generator. He had no doubt they would, now. And he had seen the order given, as well. No doubt at all.
So be it.
And... so what could he do, that would not lead his family to ruin? Padmé could still be alive, remembering that today was their anniversary -- No. It is not our anniversary. Her anniversary. I have done too many evils for it to be my anniversary.
And with that, Anakin saw that he did not hate the Emperor, truly. He had always hated him -- hated him for keeping him such a subordinate, making him walk on Tarkin's leash, forcing him to wear this mask. But now... he did not hate the Emperor. In fact, he had a great sense of humor, if you were into that sick sort of thing that he humored himself with. But what Anakin did hate was the darkness -- the darkness inside the Emperor, the darkness inside of Luke, and especially the darkness inside himself.
And the only way to destroy darkness when it is so deep-rooted, thought Anakin, is to destroy its vessel.
At last, Anakin reached Palpatine's side. He watched Luke cringe from the pain and suffering, and then watched Palpatine. He seemed to be having a grand old time, a smile on his face, illuminated by the light created by such dark power.
"Young fool!" exclaimed Palpatine. "Only now at the end, do you understand. Your puerile skills are no match for the power of the dark side. You have paid the price for your lack of vision. Now, young Skywalker, you will pay the price in full. You will die!"
And at that moment, Palpatine's smile grew wide. He laughed in his maniac cackled laugh, and sent another shower of dark energy into young Skywalker. Luke crumpled under the stress, and still the Emperor poured electricity into the boy. And still he did, even when his body appeared lifeless, lost. Forever.
...and he was the vessel of the dark power. Without the vessel... he would be powerless. And the Sith would finally be destroyed, once he took of the mask.
Yes. Yes. That would be his legacy.
It was the only thing he could do, he resigned. He hated what he had been for twenty years, the fear of the Galaxy when they did not know enough to fear the Emperor. Always, it had been the parents telling their young children that if they did not go to bed on time or eat their concentrated vegetables that Darth Vader would come and fry their brains. No longer. No longer could he be the bane of the Galaxy, its most despised, hated and feared quadrant. Its most disgusting, most deformed.
No. That is another life. Another man.
And this time, he would begin his Third life -- one which he would only let last a few hours, before he went on to other places -- on the right foot for once. He had begun his first as a slave to a junk dealer, and he had begun his second as a slave to a madman. Well, with the Third, he would finally be free. He could finally be a free man.
Anakin lifted up Palpatine from the floor, and held him above his head. The lightning of the dark side came down and struck him instead of his son. Good. So then he can live, while I die.
For a moment Anakin faltered, as the Emperor tried to focus on him and kill the cripple that was trying to kill him. But even if Palpatine succeeded, and killed the Chosen One, the Chosen One would have killed him. And then, he could not destroy his legacy.
Then, no one could. This was his destiny, he saw now.
Anakin pinned the Emperor's arms to his body, and moved towards the pit that was the reactor shaft by the turbolifts. The energy was shot into himself, but he didn't not feel powerful. Nor did he feel weak. What he felt was the Force. And he did not feel any remorse. He ignored pain, weakness, fear and anger -- just as he had been taught years ago, under the tutelage of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Let yourself control your feelings, not vice-versa.
At last, he reached the bridge, and stumbled again as the electricity worked its way down his body, through his cape and armor, into his already injured heart. It beat irregularly, he felt, and his machinery struggled to keep it at a steady rate. He struggled towards the edge, and with one last burst of energy, Anakin Skywalker hurled the wailing Emperor down the shaft.
And that was that.
Anakin collapsed against one of the bulkhead, and rested. Finally, free at last. But after
only a few seconds, a rumbling explosion was heard, and air billowed up out of the chasm.
Anakin thought that he heard a chilling scream cry out in the distance, slowly dissipating
throughout space. But what came up in its place was nothing of the sort... a deep sign seemed
to come up through his every remaining cell. Maybe it didn't come from him. But finally,
he was done. He could die, now. And he rested, letting his thoughts dwell on nothing.
But apparently, his son wouldn't let him go.
Luke had crawled to his side, stunned and scarred by the Emperor's last assault. It had taken a great toll on him, and he had recovered very quickly. Luke had reached him minutes afterwards the Emperor's death, and picked him up. Luke carried him away, towards the hanger bays. First, though, to the turbolifts.
No doubt, he wants me to live.
But -- no! He couldn't live! He had to die! He had completed his task in life, and he now served no purpose here. Anakin did not want to face the wrath of the Alliance, either... if they ever learned that he had been Vader, they would put him on trial and execute him. Not that he didn't deserve it, but... he would rather die a calm and silent death than a publicized and horrid one. He had done what he had been placed in this universe for, and now he didn't belong here.
And then, the Death Star shook noticeably for the first time. It was Executor, he felt. He could feel the deaths, the chaos growing clearly. It grew, just as the dark side did... but it was not centralized, as it had been when the Emperor had lived. It was dissention, fear, fear of the Rebellion. Yes, the Emperor's propaganda had definitely done well in the Imperial ranks. Oh, yes! The bloodthirsty rebels who ate their babies alive were coming to get them!
But here, a rebel in their midst. Two of them actually. But none would ever have called Vader a rebel... and as Luke carried his father's body through the bowels of the space station, none turned their neck to watch. Everyone was working for themselves; not as a cohesive force. They didn't care about anyone else, just getting themselves off this piece of metal.
The station shook again. The rebel bombardments were getting stronger, as the cruisers disengaged the Star Destroyers and moved in on the Death Star. But soon... soon, they would have to move away from the death star. For Anakin had been right. He had always been right -- this technological terror was nothing compared to the power of the Force.
You were always right. That's why I loved you. Your son was right. Tell him that.
What? Who was this? Anakin felt around, but the only thing that he could see was his son. But he didn't see his son. He saw a computer-generated image, created by his mechanical eyes. He wanted to see his son... before he died.
Smoke filled corridors, and chaos filled the whole Death Star. Rafters and other setups that were keeping the place together broke off their scaffolding, and officers, stormtroopers, and other parafanalia ran about like a dog with its tail on fire. Somehow, Luke had managed to get his father to the main docking bay -- his father, with all the deadweight and mechanics that came with him. He was making his way to one of the few remaining Imperial shuttles. If only they could get there... they could get off this damnable thing. Perhaps half-way across the bay, Luke's strength gave out, and he put Anakin down.
* * * * * *
Inside his mask, Anakin opened his eyes. He had been resting, and it had been good rest. His mechanics kept control over his body, and he was slowly regaining strength, though weakening at the same time. He was losing energy... but in a way, he felt better than he had in twenty years. It did not matter whether they got off the Death Star or not -- a least, not for Anakin. Either way, he would die. But it was Luke who mattered. His legacy, he would have to live on.
The floor shook again, and another rafter fell down across the docking bay, its end on fire. Anakin tried to speak, but he could only choke. Again, he tried, and his voice came through.
"Luke, help me take this mask off."
Luke naïvely shook his head. "You'll die." He wouldn't do this. Alright. I'll have to convince him. Luke... he just didn't understand. He would die anyway. Anakin just wanted to see his son for once.
"Nothing can stop that now. Just once... let me face you without it. Let me look on your with my own eyes."
Anakin could see fear in Luke's eyes. He didn't want to see his father's face... he was afraid of what he would find. But he could handle it; Anakin knew. Anakin was afraid as well. What would Luke think? Would be be terrified? Would he feel pity? Anakin did not know. That was what scared him.
You'll do fine.
Who was that? It sounded like a soft voice... a beautiful one. More beautiful than his had been before his... accident. I forgive you, Obi-Wan. Yes; how had Palpatine managed to poison that friendship? It had been so good. Obi-Wan... such a good friend, such a good teacher. What had ever brought distrust between them? Of course, there had been his fall... but it had stared before that, and that was where it had come from. And what that was, Anakin did not know. Anakin suspected that if he knew, it might grow again.
And then, there was Padmé. His beautiful wife. He --
He had to concentrate on helping Luke, now. Luke was struggling to remove his helmet; there was all sorts of intertwined machinery that made it possible for him to speak, to breathe, to see, to hear. Piece by piece, Luke took off the outer helmet, and then the breathing apparatus, and then -- and then there was Anakin.
And for once, Anakin saw Luke. He looked so much like Padmé... so much like her. He had her nose, and also her cheeks. She had been so beautiful --
so were you
-- and now... he would never see his son again. Anakin heard thunder in the distance, and it felt like he was back on Naboo again, sitting through another thunderstorm inside Padmé's summer-house. Sad... he would never be able to go there again. Ever. Anywhere. Already, his breathing was becoming raspy and short... and he felt rain come down on his cheeks. But it wasn't rain... it was something else. It was not cool rain, beating down on his neck as he would have like it to, but it was... salty. That was what he tasted. They were... tears? Anakin had not cried ever since his tear-glands had been burned away in his escapade in the lava pit. Another fell upon his forehead, and he spoke.
"Go, my son. Leave me."
It was inevitable now. He could barely breathe... and Luke was seeing this monster of a face, this white nothingness, this ugly thing that he had used for twenty years behind a mask that had insulated him from the Galaxy for twenty years -- a mask that had hid his deformities and crippled self from the Galaxy that feared him like an angry God.
"No. You're coming with me. I'll not leave you here; I've got to save you."
Luke, you are so naïve. You will never understand. You already have...
Luke would never understand. He wanted to, but there wasn't the time for it. Luke understood that, at least. He wanted to save his father, to see what was really behind the mask. But Luke would never see him as Anakin, Anakin realized. Luke would always see the monster that was Darth Vader whenever his gaze fell upon him, and the maniac who had tried to kill him and had only revealed his true identity to him when he was about to attempt suicide. Luke would never see who he really was... and Anakin was ashamed of that.
Another tear fell upon his forehead, and welled up inside his eye. Luke seemed to change, somehow... he no longer looked like Luke. Now, he was Leia. Leia... the same Leia that he had threatened to try to turn against herself if her brother did not do it for her. And then, he metamorphised again.
Now, it was Padmé.
Anakin could not bear to look. She looked just as he remembered her -- beautiful, sad, but joyful and a powerful leader. A good friend and always there for those in need. He was tempted to say Are you an angel? but hesitated. For he knew that this was just a façade, created by his mind. This could not possibly be Padmé... Padmé must have died. He sensed the truth in that thought. The Emperor must have had her executed for participating in the Rebellion. And without even teling him! What outrage --
But Anakin stopped himself. No. He would not go down that path again.
This had to be Luke. It had been Luke before.
"Father... I won't leave you... " said Luke, stubborn as always.
No, he would never understand. He hadn't gone through what Anakin had gone through... thankfully, he never would have to.
Anakin spoke up again, for the last time. He still saw Padmé there... but it did not decieve him. He wanted Luke to see him for who he was... but it did not seem as if there was time for that. "Luke, you were right... tell your sister... you were right."
With that, Anakin took one last gaze up, at Padmé Naberrie Amidala Skywalker, who would live on in her children. How beautiful -- but sad. Happy anniversary, my love.
And he closed his eyes in recognition of his fate, and died.