Recovering from Bespin, a feverish Luke Skywalker lets slip his parentage, but what will the Alliance do with the son of Darth Vader? Their mistake proves monumental and delivers Luke into the hands of his worst nightmare. Destiny goes into an about turn where there's only one person who can save Luke from the darkside - his father. Recovering from Bespin, a feverish Luke Skywalker lets slip his parentage, but what will the Alliance do with the son of Darth Vader? Their mistake proves monumental and delivers Luke into the hands of his worst nightmare. Destiny goes into an about turn where there's only one person who can save Luke from the darkside - his father.

C h a p t e r E l e v e n

The fire was bright enough that when he held his fingers out in front the flames they glowed with the red crayon outline of a child's drawing. Even then, it took focus to recognise the hand as his own, to know the pain in his knees from remaining kneeling so long belonged to him, that the heat on his skin was truly his. And when he found that focus, doubts began to crawl across his vision, uncertainty making him shiver, not convinced anything was his own anymore. Not certain he even existed anymore as anything other than disparate feelings and images that failed to form a coherent whole.

Luke Skywalker. Luke. Sky. Walker.

Luke – a strong name that Beru had called light when she sang in sad, hushed tones when no one but Luke was listening.

- Starlight, starbright,
Soon light returns the night... -

A name he'd heard countless voices calling, but could no longer remember who they belonged to. He could only conjure up vague images that might be no more real than the nightmares that took him in the night. Luke; hero, farmboy, Jedi. He was none of those, not anymore. So perhaps he was no longer Luke.

Sky. All the skies he had seen had been different: brilliant shades of blue; washed cloud covered mists; boiling angry grey. Sky – there were so many possibilities, so perhaps he owned that, perhaps one of those belonged to him. Perhaps he just no longer knew which.

Walker. Walk; to travel, to move on. That he owned, because he felt the changes pushing at him, prodding and pinching as much as the medics needles and Emperor's strokes. He was moving on from what he had been to something new, something dictated by the Emperor, his Master. But then, if he had once owned that word, and was now moving on, perhaps he no longer owned it at all and wallowed instead in a paradox.

He sighed. Luke Skywalker. That couldn't be him, could it?

He traced the red-rimmed outline of his fingers, staring. If he wasn't Luke Skywalker, then who was he? His Master stood on the other side of the hall, atmosphere awash with the black storm clouds and his already foul mood, for once not the fault of Lu- of him.

He watched the fire dance; watched it curl and twist, and smiled.

* * * *

"I... I don't know how."

Han's hand squeezed hers a little tighter, encouragement in the gentle reassurance of his skin on hers. On her other side Vader's hand tightened in urgency and the small circle of three – Leia, Han, Vader – remained cross-legged on the floor despite her protestations.

"You can do it. You have this strength. Please, Princess. We need to try this." That was Vader.

She nodded numbly despite all three remaining with eyes closed. She pushed back awareness of the cold deck underneath her, of the sting of coolant vapour in the back of her throat, and concentrated. She knew Luke could do this, knew he could touch the Force in an eye blink, but she found her breath labouring at the effort and her eyes flew open disgustedly. "I can't do it! I just don't have it."

Han's wide brown eyes opened and he smiled ruefully, "Well, Luke did get it a lot quicker."

"It doesn't matter. You can do it, Leia. You did it... on the Death Star." Vader said with an earnestness she was more used to from her newly found and lost brother. Icy determination colder than the metal deck plates made her take both their hands back in hers and close her eyes. Any mention of the Death Star brought her hackles up again. Her interrogation session... mediated by her father. Anger flared and she pushed it aside, concentrating.

"I'll try," she said wearily.

"If you try, you will fail. You must be determined to succeed, nothing else will do." Vader said as he gripped her hand harder. Leia had noted during the short trip, after her initial vehemence had died into a whisper of hatred and pain, that he was attempting to make more contact with her. Small things: a touch on her arm in support; leaning closer when sharing information; attempting to not be so imposing against his daughter who was a good foot and a half shorter than him. But it didn't disturb her, and that was both worrying and heartening. In the few brief minutes she had stolen with Han, they had agreed wholeheartedly on one thing:

Darth Vader had changed.

"Allright."

* * * *

Murmurs of conversation in the background did not grab his attention. Murmurs from the fire licking at the heart did not possess him. He let his thoughts drift easily on the dust motes. He let the feelings of the rug underneath his knees be quashed by the feel of the room in the Force, darkened now but not any stronger than in the light. Only more... potent.

His eyes sparked with the fire and his vision exploded.

* * * *

Leia's hands gripped Han's and Vader's suddenly and she gave a startled little gasp. Beside her, her father whispered a name.

"Luke..."

* * * *

He felt... he felt something familiar, delicious. Something like smiling and crying, something like laughter and tears. He blinked but his vision remained shattered and he dropped his hands to the rug to steady himself, taking handfuls of the thick pile between his fingers. A name lingered on his lips, a name loved, cherished, needed; so needed he felt his eyes pricked by the sting of tears and his voice fled. He didn't need it.

//Leia...//

* * * *

She gasped, laughed, cried. Vader held her down, his Force-sense dancing in firelight.

//Luke.//

* * * *

Luke? Was he Luke?

-- starlight, starbright... --

Was she talking to him, or someone who stood in the shadows where he couldn't see, couldn't reach. He frowned.

//Luke.// The call came again, insistent.

- soon light returns... -

//Who?//

* * * *

Leia frowned and world tilted under her. If the others hadn't held her up, she would have fallen, even from being seated. Who? Who? What did he mean? Firelight danced, stonework sucking in the heat from a great hearth. Before she could have thought again, a new presence asked for entrance to her mind, pleading almost, beckoning almost. Vader. Father. She let him in.

* * * *

//My son... where are you?//

Luke shook his head furiously at the dark images. Son? He was nobody's son. There was no one to call him son; no one to call father. His fingers tightened and the image of a dark death-mask swam into his vision, jet black; cold, cruel black; black like so much of his life. He knew that mask. Knew that voice that didn't hiss, that trembled with excitement and expectation. But who was it talking to?

//Who am I?// he asked, suddenly desperate.

The voice shivered and he swallowed hard, leaning towards the dark images.

//Luke Skywalker, my son.//

Luke? Skywalker? That couldn't be right. The Emperor said… he said... he whispered, he stroked, he said there was no Luke Skywalker anymore. No Luke. No light.

--... starlight, starbright…--

He had no name until he earned it.

* * * *

Vader felt disgust rip through him as he heard those thoughts. Luke was still there, he could feel it; burning bright and resilient, but buried. Buried because Palpatine told him so, because Luke had no one left to believe in, not even himself. The Emperor was driving out Luke and replacing him with something else, something macabre and Luke still fought, he just didn't realise it.

//You are Luke Skywalker, named after your father, Anakin Skywalker.//

His vision of the fire swung precariously as Luke nodded. // I was, but Vader killed him. So if the father doesn't exist, why should the son?//

Vader's hand tightened and Leia didn't protest at the pain. He felt her mental call of anguish as she, too, realised the mess Palpatine was making of her brother's mind.

Palpatine had told him Vader had lied; that called out loud and clear, burning bright over every other thought.

* * * *

He had given the name of 'father' to another, to the one who murdered him. How could he ever trust himself again? Luke shivered, focusing on the dark mask.

//I don't know who I am.//

The feelings that returned were tinged with sadness and outrage, pity and hatred. Hatred Luke knew well, and sadness. But pity... no one pitied him here, even the medics that tended his Master's punishments never spoke, never looked into greying blue eyes.

//You do. Search your feelings, Luke. Your father lives still. I am your father.//

Luke shook.

-- I know it's true, they did a blood test… --

-- …why do you keep calling to me, my son? --

-- I don't care whose son you are. You're still Luke Skywalker… --

* * * *

He felt his son shake at the words and pushed on. //Search your feelings, you know it be true.// Seeing through Luke's eyes, through his mind, images flickered; Bespin in shades of grey and red and forgotten feelings swelling.

//Vader?//

//Yes.//

//Father?//

//Yes.//

There was a stillness and then his heart jumped with a sudden cry, full of pleading and knowledge, rushing headfirst into a mental wall that crumbled and Luke's awareness leapt in realisation of the lie Palpatine had told, still clouded by longing and terror.

//Get me out of here!!//

* * * *

His lips burned, wanting to scream. Palpatine lied!! He had a father – he did! He lied.

-- Never to be deceived again --

-- Never to be... --

-- ... deceived... --

//Hold on Luke, we're coming.// That was Leia; sweet, honey-toned Leia, voice singing in hope that Luke let wash over him.

Footsteps of outrage behind him echoed across the hall, then black cloth sweeping over the rug and his heart stilled in sudden dread, fear, loathing, terror.

//Father-//

Something grabbed him, shook him, hurled words of outrage at him. He might have braced himself, might have tried to just lay and take the punishment but when Leia screamed in mutual pain he pushed at the Sith, dark Force eddies strangling the other's words of outrage. Force lightening hit harder and he screamed.

//Anakin!//

It tangled his legs and brought his vision rushing back to snap to the stone ceiling. He was lying now on his back, the Emperor approaching, furious, fingertips sparking like arc welders. Luke couldn't crawl backwards and there was no return to his mental calls, the contact lost. His lips moved to form words of defiance, or even a call for mercy, but there was no sound. The Emperor reached down and took a handful of blonde hair, yanking him to his feet with a pitiful cry of pain from tortured muscles.

Luke shut his eyes, knowing no pleading would stop the outburst of anger from his Master.

Palpatine worked him until he clawed, screamed, cried out; cut him until he begged. Then he sat beside the sobbing body, face broken down from seething anger to something more serene and far more dangerous.

"Tell me again, what is your name, Little Dark Jedi?" He breathed the words over tender, burnt skin and they exploded in little fiery patterns.

"I don't have a name, Master," he said, almost believing it again.

"And your father?"

"I have no father," he whispered. He dearly wanted to curl up on his self and scream in anguish but Palpatine remained seated beside him for long seconds, considering, incensed enough not to even touch his toy.

"I see you forget your place too easily, child," he said, almost offhandedly, "I must be more… diligent. You have only yourself to blame, child."

Luke stilled as the far door cracked open and Palace servants poured through in meaningful steps.

* * * *

Leia tore from the contact, screaming. She rushed to her feet, shaking, and collided with the wall. Her own vision came back slowly and she shook as Han came to his feet and caught her as she fell, sobbing. She buried her tears in his shoulder, Vader never moving from his cross-legged position on the floor.

Han lowered her opposite him and she tried to stop the shaking, tried to banish the last remnants of pain and terror, knowing now just how real those nightmares had been. She looked at Vader, deathly quiet. Even without the Force, the outrage was obvious, the air crackling with his anger.

"Vader?" Her voice was steadier than her nerves. There was absolutely no answer, absolutely no reaction.

She stared at him, eyes growing wide as realisation slammed full force into her gut. Something had happened, during that exchange, something had happened to Vader. She licked her lips and Han let her go from a fierce hug as she crawled uncertainly for Vader.

"Father?" The word bit but she still managed it. "Father, that was.... horrible." She needed sympathy, she needed him to tell her it was half her imagining, half exaggeration, but there was no movement from the still figure, no sound but the heavy rasping of his breath.

Something had happened...

"Anakin?"

His head shot up. "Yes? Can this ship go any faster?"