An AU story, at the time of ANH – what would have
happened if Biggs hadn't jumped ship and had mouthed off at the wrong
moment about Luke's piloting skills?
---
Again,
apologies for the delay. I promise to work faster, but I hope this
has been worth the wait. I think you can all guess what scene we've
reached... many thanks to my deliciously patient beta Lilah, and also
Aria for her enthusiasm.
Chapter
Eight
Ben offered his hand and hauled Luke over the
edge of the canyon, noting the blue tinge to his skin; the blood, the
shaking. Whatever the fight had been, whether or not those two
wrecked speeders had any part in it, he had won. But at what cost?
This was a question which pervaded much of Obi-Wan's life. At
what cost?
He had obeyed his Masters dying wish, but at
what cost? He had ignored Yoda's warning, ignored Palpatine's greed,
tried to protect the Queen of Naboo, but at what cost? He had hidden
the Skywalker children rather than kill them or let him have them, in
the hopes that they would one day be a threat to Vader, and not an
ally. At what cost?
Luke looked up at him with pain and
triumph shining in those intense blue eyes. Blue eyes of Anakin
Skywalker; blue eyes of his vision. His hand trembled as he patted
the boys back.
"Looks liked you've had quite an
adventure, young Luke." The tone was kindly but Kenobi's mind
was in chaos. Indecision coloured his vision as he helped the boy to
stand.
Vader was here, now, on this planet. That had come for
Luke was certain. The boy had escaped? No – that wasn't right;
he would never have escaped Vader. The mind of the child was so
fragile, so pliable. Not weak, not in the least, but uneducated to
what it was he was getting himself into. And you couldn't protect
yourself from something you were completely ignorant of. There was
definitely no time for a crash course in the last twenty years.
Luke
sucked in a breath and Obi-Wan supported the injured boy, knowing
that it was especially true that Luke didn't stand a chance whilst
injured in this way. Whatever stunt he had pulled, it had lost him
any chance at escape. Not that you could ever escape destiny.
Again
the hand patted Luke's back, each strike another death knoll.
"Have
you got..." He sucked in another breath, lips blue. He needed
medical aid, and Ben had none to offer other than the Force, and that
would only bring Vader swooping down on them all the faster. He at
least wanted the time to apologise to the boy. "Got any...
transport?"
No 'Hello', no 'Ben! Boy am I glad to see
you!', no pointless greetings. Luke knew as well as he did the danger
they were in, perhaps he even sensed it in the Force. He was so
strong, the boy. So like his father had been and so unlike him.
Did
Vader sense the boy? His own flesh and blood, replacing that burned
away two decades ago?
His eyes strayed to the horizon and a
thin column of smoke rising with the heat waves, knowing perfectly
well what that signified.
He hugged a hand around Luke's
waist, surreptitiously to help him walk, realistically to say sorry
in his kindness before... well, before destiny decided enough was
enough. Because despite the turbulent emotions crushing his spirit to
fight back; to try and defeat destiny like he had for the past two
decades, he knew that he had a promise to fulfill. A solemn promise
to Padme as she laying dying to give the ultimate protection to her
infant son. It was a terrible burden to carry for eighteen years, but
one he couldn't and wouldn't abandon.
And perhaps using duty
as an excuse might even make it easier.
"I'm afraid not,
Luke." They struggled forward and he sensed in Luke the
confusion at being lead nearer the cliff edge, Ben Kenobi drawn to
the burning Lars homestead beyond a steep precipice. "I live up
there, that small house, see it? I walked here when I heard the
explosion."
Not quite true – why was everything
they told this boy not quite true? There was no time for regrets now
though, only for action.
A chill settled over him then, cold in
the Tatooine noon, a clammy cloak to match the homespun he wore.
Trying to shrug it off, Obi-Wan realised that he was afraid. It was a
rare event for someone who chose to call themselves a Jedi Master,
but it was a well-remembered feeling, an old friend come visiting.
He looked down at his friend's son as Luke spoke again,
grittily determined despite the obvious pain. "Ben, do you..."
Again, gasping for breath, clutching his side. Ben hugged him closer
wishing the boy could at least look a little less like Anakin.
"You... know what's... going on?"
Yes.
"No."
They stopped and Ben regarded the blonde-headed youth, hair
flecked now with blood and dirt. He looked so fragile, so like Padme
had as she died, murdered by a broken heart.
Oh, Stars! He
couldn't do this! He couldn't! He had two options; two very
different options. Wait here for Vader to show up; wait for him to
kill his old Master and take Luke?
And turn him into my
vision? Corrupt the innocence and pure light of the boy?
Or...
no, he couldn't even think of the other. It was sickening. It was
something even a Jedi shouldn't have to do. Kill the boy to save
him?
This wasn't in the job description! Qui Gon, you never
said anything about this! What had happened to being
benevolent protectors of peace and justice? When did it involve
murdering your best friend's son?
As he tried to work
past those thoughts, past the bitter taste of loathing in his mouth,
he realised Luke had moved away from him. The boy stood at arms
length, looking up at him suspiciously, and Obi-Wan knew the
conflicting emotions were straying onto his normally disciplined
face. Luke looked at him warily before stepping backwards again,
suddenly and inexplicably scared. Those eyes pierced his soul, maybe
even seeing right through him.
The eyes from his vision were
the same... and completely different.
And Destiny was calling
for retribution.
Luke moved his lips to speak and his eyes
blinked red-blonde bangs of hair from his eyes, hands still hugging a
broken chest.
Am I still nursing a broken heart? Padme,
what would you have me do?
"Ben...?" The boy
rasped.
That was enough; enough for Obi-Wan Kenobi, enough
for old Ben. In that instant, the voice was a cruel imitation of his
not-quite-dead father. He felt sick, violently sick; he wanted to
turn and run.
Instead, his made to ruffle the boys hair. Luke
looked at him in confusion and Obi-Wan felt Destiny cheer him on as
he clamped the hand down on the boys head, pushing him to his knees
without a sound.
His left hand held him down, knowing it was
barely necessary given the boy's condition, but needing to feel close
to this, his last tragedy. Because everyone had to be free to pursue
their own tragedy. This was Obi-Wan's freedom; this was Luke's
release. His right hand unhooked the saber from the belt.
"Luke,
be still."
The boy couldn't. He tried to rise but his
knees were beyond even that small strength. He had come so far; lost
so much. The grief weighed him down as much as the bruised bones. Ben
saw it.
"I... I don't... understand." The breaths
were coming slower now. The injury was not fatal; a broken rib was
easily repaired. A broken heart not so. But Obi-Wan knew he'd not
live long enough to feel the pain he deserved for this, his failure
completed.
And maybe this was just closure.
In the
distance, a dark speck was appearing from behind the smoke and fire
that was all that was left of Luke's childhood. He didn't need the
Force to know what that signified.
Trembling, unable to fight
anymore, he placed the saber against the boy's temple. "I'm
sorry, Luke. You're father would have wanted it this way. There is
no other way"
Luke squeezed sand-blown eyes shut and Ben
felt the horror and pain of betrayal rip through him as fervently as
if it had come from within him. Pain, horror... and confusion. Left
ignorant yet again.
"No... Ben..."
---
Vader
tried in vain to still the turbulent emotions, trying to package them
away and seal them behind a mask of steely confidence as the shuttle
flew across the Dune Sea. He was so close, and so unnerved by the
adrenaline rushing through his blood at the thought of seeing his
son. It was a concept he had barely had time to adjust to, but it was
so compelling and, if he could ever admit it, his feelings were no
less heady and excited than they had been back on the Adamant, a
lifetime ago.
The scene that grew through the forward viewport
managed to break that seal and he felt the calm demeanor shredded as
the two figures came into focus, both silhouettes against the
sunlight. He found himself striding forward to stand between pilot
and copilot, enraptured by the growing image.
Kilometres came
and went, as did Vader's troubled thoughts until the two figures
could be seen clearer. One kneeling, staring upwards. The other,
larger and cloaked, was holding the smaller one down. Neither was
moving. Neither could be clearly identified by any of the occupants
of the shuttle. Except by Vader.
"Faster." It
wasn't much of an order, but he was lucky to have gotten the word
out.
"My Lord, we are at full speed already."
The
tense atmosphere of the shuttle was broken as both men twitched at
the sudden lack of sound from Vader's breather. Neither dared to turn
and look, not even the pilot when he felt the back of his seat begin
to buckle under the iron grip of Vader's fist.
Vader was
transfixed by the approaching cliff top. The smaller figure was Luke.
So close... he could feel his presence. It was burning brighter than
the twin suns, but it was being smothered, covered up, hidden under
the sands of Tatooine. By his old Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi.
That
man, that man who had taken his trust, his friendship and his wife
and destroyed them all. He was still alive, somehow escaping the
purges.
The breather returned, this time a low growl escaping
his lips. And now, now, he would take his son.
The
image wasn't clear but the intent was.
Vader felt the Force
rushing through him as the anger grew, engulfing him completely in
energy so familiar and so desperate. The fear; fear for his son, fear
that he would loose everything again, didn't hurt either.
They
drew slowly closer. Luke was clearly visible now, hands trying to pry
Kenobi's grip loose and Vader wanted to scream, wanted to physically
urge the shuttle to go faster. He reached out for his son, the Force
so warm and potent in the sudden chill of the cockpit.
Kenobi's
gaze came up and stared at the shuttle, feeling Vader's probe and
Vader let the hate flow, just like Palpatine commanded. He knew
Kenobi felt the anger, the indignation, but the man didn't move. He
looked back down at his son, speaking.
"Lower the ramp."
Vader ordered, perfectly aware of the tone of his voice and the way
the men cowered from it.
In the noon sunlight metal glinted
in Kenobi's hand and Vader felt fear course up his body in
recognition. He was going to kill his son, kill him with the weapon
of a Jedi; in the name of the Jedi.
No! Kenobi!
The
hand quivered a little as the shuttle began a rapid descent over the
two figures locked on the ridge. If he was going to kill Luke, why
didn't he just do it? Did the old man still have a shred of
conscience left? That would cost him.
And why didn't Vader
just reach out and stop him?
Cursing his stupidity, he tried,
but although the teachings of the Jedi held very few truths, the fact
that dark was no stronger than light was one of them. Kenobi had
built well-trained barriers around himself and the boy, fully
expecting Vader to try and pry them apart. Given just a couple of
minutes he would certainly have broken them. But he barely had a
single minute; a single moment to act.
He took that moment
and ran for the boarding ramp.
The saber was in his hand,
already lit as he found the strength, dark and true, to move. Still
working on the barriers, finding chinks in the armour Obi-Wan sought
to project, he ran down the extending ramp, feeling them crumble as
Kenobi finally made the move to light the saber.
And
jumped.
---
It was the first time in his life that
Luke Skywalker had heard the snap-hiss of a lightsaber being lit. It
could also be the last. His eyes were blinded by a blue light, and a
pain so brilliant he thought he must be burning, swimming in the
fires on the surface of Tatoo1.
But he wasn't dead. He was
falling, he was trying to force a gasp of pain from his lungs, he was
fumbling to cover the wound in his shoulder. He was dying, maybe. But
he wasn't dead. Not yet.
The fall was slow and his vision
crept in fits of blood and sunshine. When he hit the ground sand was
churning around him, booted feet skidding across the precipice. There
was angry buzzing above him, something he couldn't even begin to
identify, and a black cape snapped at his face as he lay on the
ground, as a dark shadow passed close by.
Feeling began to
converge from a sheet of pain to something more defined. Legs, ribs,
shoulder. Stars, it burned.
His mouth tasted
blood and his cheek felt the grit of sand against it. The cloak
swirled over him, almost protectively, and bit at his face again as
he tried to rise.
--
Vader whipped the blade
around and down on the old Jedi, doubled-handed, incensed. The old
man was forced to back up, away from the collapsed figure huddled on
the ground and Vader kept pressing him back; back, away, further from
his son. Get back!
The blue blade disengaged and
Kenobi stepped backwards. Vader cocked his wrist, blade working in
the outer ring of attack. He cut it in a wide sweep, edging Kenobi
further away as Luke cried out, suddenly finding his voice.
Why
did the first sound he heard from his son have to be a cry of pain?
Destiny could be so cruel.
Obi-Wan brought his foot in a wide
arc over the ground to kick up a screen of sand. Vader almost snorted
in contempt at the trick, but he was too immersed in the Force, livid
with anger and concern. He had only just managed to break Kenobi's
control as he lit the blade against his sons temple; had pulled him
backwards, the blade tip only singeing the flesh on Luke's shoulder.
Only.
Another blow and Obi-Wan almost stumbled under
the assault. Vader never stopped. This man - this Jedi had
tried to take his son from him. Tried to take from him the one thing,
one person Vader was capable of caring about any more. And
this man, the last of the Jedi, had tried to murder him.
And
they dared to call him a cold blooded killer.
Blade brought
high again, cutting at him from high right. Obi-Wan parried hastily,
trying to keep control of that infamous Jedi calm. He saw the grit
and determination on the old Jedi and knew he was far from finished.
Eyes locked on Vader, he whipped his blade in a spiral that twisted
Vaders grip out to the side.
Kenobi attempted to jump past
him, back towards Luke. The boy was trying to lever himself off the
ground with his one free hand, the other clutching his shoulder, eyes
squinting, shaking visibly. He was trying to back away from the fight
and Vader was glad to see that he at least had the presence of mind
to know to get away if he could. He no longer cared whether these
emotions were proper for the Lord Darth Vader: he craved them, needed
them, couldn't understand how his life had existed without such
passion for well over a decade. That would not be taken from
him now, so close...
Obi-Wan never got to Luke, Vader
scissor-stepping backwards and kicking out a leg into the old mans
side, connecting with a satisfying crunch and sending him to the
ground. Kenobi had always been a good fighter, but he was old and
slow and he knew it.
Luke had managed to stand on shaky feet
and was staring at the two older men locked in mortal combat. Vader
turned back to the old Jedi as he felt a tendril of the Force reach
out towards him. He stalked closer, saber extending towards the man's
throat.
He felt the intent a bare second before Kenobi
unlocked his gaze from Vader and snapped his head around to Luke.
---
Luke felt his legs beginning to give way again and
he tried to breathe, but his lungs weren't working. He gagged at the
attempt, clutching his ribs, the other hand over the burn on his
shoulder from the saber blade, trying to force back the pain with
pressure on the wound. And he couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe.
The dark clad figure knocked Ben down and Luke saw the old
man turn and lock his gaze on him.
Something slammed into his
gut, what little air left in his lungs escaping in a strangled cry of
surprise. Then he was moving backwards, flying away from the two
figures, feet grazing along the sand before there was no cliff left
to stand on. The dark figure looked at him, shocked, and reached a
hand out as if to try and catch him, but he was metres away;
lightyears too far.
The shock gave Luke the energy to suck in
another breath as the Dune Sea opened up below his feet. Then he was
falling, the last moments before a sharp, smothering blackness
showing him Ben Kenobi attacking again.
---
"No!"
Vader tried to reach out and stop the fall as Luke flew from the
cliff top, legs skidding in the sand to try and stop his momentum.
But, too late, he realised that Force tendril was a crude barrier
between himself and his son, hastily erected by Kenobi. The man used
Vaders distraction and flipped, tiredly but surely, to his feet,
saber back in hand and humming angrily.
"You'll never
have him, Darth. That boy is good. You'll never corrupt him."
The voice was deceptively calm and Vader had to force himself to keep
fighting through the sounds of a falling body tumbling down the cliff
face.
He hadn't thought his anger could be any more potent.
He was wrong.
"NOOOO!" He lunged at the Jedi. "That
is my SON!" He bellowed at the man, voice booming and
echoing along canyon walls on one side, down the precipice on the
other, and even Obi-Wan Kenobi flinched, suddenly uncertain.
That
moment of weakness or not, nothing could have stopped Vader then. The
attack was furious, blindingly fast, and ended with Obi-Wan kneeling
in the hot sand, clutching the stump of his right hand, saber flying
to Vader's furious grip. His leg snapped out before the elder man
could react, catching him on the jaw and knocking him to the sand,
stunned. Vader glowered over him, victory ringing in his ears. Kenobi
closed his eyes. "You cannot win Darth -"
Vader was
going to come back with something scathing, until he saw the small
figure of Biggs Darklighter fleeing the shuttle. No – not
fleeing, running for a shallower incline of the cliff, calling Luke's
name.
Luke!
"You will pay very dearly for
this, Kenobi. You will pay." He spat. Before Obi-Wan
could offer any resistance, another severe kick to the temple knocked
him out. Even Jedi were human; even they had to submit to the bodies
frailties, just as even Sith could know and be victim to
gut-wrenching dread.
His muscles trembled, singing with
exhaustion and fear. The voice of Darklighter rose up from the
desert floor, still calling his son's name and the Tatooine morning
air was tainted with the twin smells blood and burnt skin. It was
strikingly similar to the last time he had fought his 'man' at his
feet.
He turned on his heel and ran for the edge, so tempted
to just leap off after the boy. Feet skidded down the slope, rocks
tumbling under him, trying to drop him to the floor, and suddenly he
felt like that desert kid again, running after Qui Gon in the deserts
outside Mos Espa.
There. A hundred metres down the
cliff side and the dark figure of Darklighter was skidding to a stop
over a smaller figure prone in the sand. And there was so much blood.
It was staining the sand beneath him, a thin trail leading down the
cliff side. The sight of blood had never bothered Darth Vader in the
least, but there was something about this that made his stomach turn.
Darklighter was reaching for the neck of an inert Luke Skywalker,
searching for a pulse and Vader was running faster.
Searching out for the Force he nearly stopped in his tracks;
nearly fell to the ground in shock. The Force- it was so strong
in the boy. That small blonde figure was a light burning so bright,
Corusca going nova – how had he missed it?
Kenobi.
The man had completed his treachery by hiding the boy, hiding his
potential.
It was stunning, so bright, so bold, so... No.
Darth Vader would never use the word beautiful. But he wanted to.
He skidded to stop by Luke's side, pushing Biggs roughly away
as the boy tried to start CPR.
"He's not breathing!"
Biggs cried indignantly, but Vader knew that from a fall like that,
no conventional field medicine would help; the body was too frail.
The Force was not limited to such things.
"Quite."
He warned, tone surprisingly shaky.
Black gloved hands
searched the face of his son for any sign of consciousness and Vader
was suddenly made aware of the fact that his heart was real, no
machine substitute, as he assessed the extent of injury. Broken ribs,
broken leg, a deep cut in his side bleeding badly, a grazing
lightsaber wound on his shoulder, a big, black bruise forming on the
side of his head. So clinical it didn't even begin to touch the stark
reality of the situation.
In the heat of a Tatooine noon, the
hot metallic sting of blood was coarse and nauseating.
The
Force could heal; he could do this, but he needed to calm those
fears. No matter how much the darkside relished fear, it would break
his concentration now.
Biggs- first name basis now, Vader?
-was by Luke's side again now, calling his name over and over,
trying to get some form of recognition out off the still boy. Good,
it was the right thing to do. For himself, he calmed, and reached out
with the Force, healing all he could; forcing the lungs to breath
again, the blood to flow again.
"Biggs....?" The
chocked voice brought Vader back out and he looked at his son, really
looked at him for the first time. Saw Anakin, saw Amidala, saw the
individual that was his son as he blinked blindly at the dark haired
man trying to soothe him, hands on his shoulders, keeping him
down.
Luke blinked again and let out a heavy sigh, sweet and
metallic with the scent blood. "I must be dead then." He
didn't sound disappointed.
"No, Luke. You're alive. Hang
in there kid. Please."
Luke didn't appear to hear him. He
was trying to breathe, forcing gasps around crushed lungs and broken
ribs. Vader's hands rested on his stomach and he numbed the pain in
any way he could think of as the dark shadow of the shuttle swept
across the three figures and began to settle a few metres away.
Troopers ran down the extending ramp towards them but none of the
three noticed their approach.
He thought Luke might have
slumped back to the ground then, body broken like a childs rag doll,
so small and fragile and... and Kenobi was really going to pay
for this.
But Luke's eyes snapped open, intense blue not lost
despite the pained expression.
Luke locked his gaze on him,
and father and son looked at each other for the first time. Truly
looked; Luke uncomprehending, Vader trying unsuccessfully to control
his emotions.
"Who...?"
Stars, he wanted to
tell him! Wanted to tell him it all. Tell this child he was so proud
of, who'd demolished a group of elite troopers in Beggars Canyon, who
gained such unquestioning loyalty and love from his friends without
any conscious thought, that he was his father.
But he
couldn't; not yet. He saw Biggs look up sharply, afraid Vader would
tell him and destroy the boy who was in no shape to take such
news.
"I'm Darth Vader." He didn't know how to react
when the boy flinched in recognition, already tainted by rumors and
they'd never even met. "I'm here to rescue you."
The
words were from a more naïve person, a lifetime ago, but they
didn't feel wrong.
"Still now, be still." He tried
to soothe him, but the breather wasn't designed to make Vaders voice
kindly. Luke barely seemed to notice that, and just captured the Dark
Lord with a gaze filled with wisdom beyond his years. Then he nodded,
ignoring the pains shooting up his neck. Eyes blinked progressively
slowly and he started to slump down into the crimson sand.
Vader
knelt by his side and scooped the light frame into his arms, trying
to be gentle but feeling the sharp pains assault him through his
unconscious connection to the boy. Luke never mentioned them.
"Rest
now." Force persuasion and exhaustion worked against Luke
Skywalker and he let his head rest against the breast plate of Darth
Vader, eyes blinking shut at last and he sank into sleep, warm and
mercifully silent.
Was that what you
expected? Completely different? Please tell me; I'm
interested, really. NB this is NOT THE END! Not if I have any say,
anyway....
Mina