"Are you prepared to accept your destiny?" Vader inquired.
"Surely you didn't think I would make it that easy?" the Jedi raised an eyebrow.
"You will have to face it someday. By delaying the inevitable, you make it more painful." The Sith Lord turned to Mara. "Come with me."
Mara gave a sideways look to Luke that clearly meant: Remember what I said.
Giving Vader a gaze that was a mixture of bitterness and submission, she queried, "Why?"
Vader didn't answer; he merely yanked Mara toward him with the Force.
Luke shot to his feet and demanded, "Where are you taking her?"
"She will not be harmed," the armored giant replied ambiguously.
But Luke wasn't nearly as submissive as his companion, and he stepped close to his father threateningly, his eyes sparking. In a confident voice, he told the taller man, "I won't let y—"
—and found a humming, red lightsaber at his throat. "Don't make me show you what the consequence of defiance is, Son," Vader rumbled, inching the weapon towards Luke's neck.
Luke swallowed, glancing down at the saber, then up at his father, and then finally to Mara. His sapphire eyes pleaded for forgiveness, but her emerald eyes held merely a command for him to be careful.
And so it was with ambivalence that Luke watched Palpatine's former Hand be led out of the cell by his blood-kin.
His blood...
Brow furrowing minutely, Luke looked down at his mechanical hand. He flexed it and thought back to the second Death Star, where his father's hand had been sliced through the wrist, just like his own.
Like father like son...
His father had caused the loss of his hand, and then he had done the same to him at their next meeting.
And there he was again, in his father's clutches, but this time without a weapon...and with a father who seemed to have buried all possible remnants of his former self beneath layers of darkness.
What was to happen this time? Loss of another extremity? Perhaps loss of a life?
Or did Fate hold something different for him this time? Was he to finally give in to the thing that he had been fighting against for years?
He didn't know, but he had to fight against the Dark Side for Mara...
For Mara, he repeated to himself forcefully. For Mara.
But Mara's not with you, a little voice pointed out from the dark depths of his mind.
He nearly groaned in exasperation, telling the voice, I'm sure it's only temporary...
Possibly, it conceded. But what if Vader plans to kill her?
Trying to brush away the ill feeling that image brought up in his mind, Luke mentally replied, That would give me more incentive to go against my father.
The voice seemed to think about that for a moment. But what would the use of fighting against your father be if you didn't have the love of your life with you?
I would do it for her.
It would still be pointless, it insisted.
Fighting for love is never pointless, Luke countered.
Fighting for someone who's dead is, the evil voice returned.
Luke merely shook his head, trying to stop his increasing worry from wrecking havoc on his stomach, which felt like it had a dozen insects buzzing around in it frantically.
You're weaker without her, you know, the voice finally came told him.
I know. Luke Skywalker could not deny it.
If you gave into the Dark Side for just a minute, then you could easily get the guards to open your cell, slay your father, grab your love, and leave this place. Then things could go back to the way they were before the man you thought dead was suddenly resurrected.
If I gave in to the Dark Side, my life would never be the same, the Jedi disagreed with his annoyed inner voice.
The voice insisted, You wouldn't be using it for the rest of your life, merely a few moments. Things would go back to normal.
No, they would not. As Yoda said, 'Once you start down the Dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny.'
You touched the Dark Side briefly on the second Death Star, it pointed out slyly. You're not very different right now than you were then...just wiser.
Luke shook his head minutely. It has affected my life, though it has been a bit indirectly. If I touched it one more time, even briefly, it would gain total control of my life.
And that's a bad thing?
Luke started to give another mental reply, but the voice quickly amended, It is just that you are making a much bigger deal out of this than you should. The so-called 'Dark Side' is merely an approach to using the Force. It isn't a living entity that decides it wants to rule this or that. It has no true sentience.
Perhaps...
The door hissed open before Luke had had any more time to argue with the annoying little voice, and Darth Vader strode forward.
The young Jedi thought he detected a hint of satisfaction radiating from his father, but as soon as he sensed the feeling it left, leaving him wondering whether it had just been a figment of his imagination.
Vader was silent for a few moments, while Luke looked on him expectedly.
"I apologize for the trouble I have caused you. I have lived in darkness for years, and the only times that I had second thoughts about my past choices have been in your presence. I expect you to distrust me, for distrust is something the Jedi often instill into their students...The Jedi were known for their paranoia."
Luke frowned and was about to speak, but his father continued. "The truth is, son, all these years that I have been in hiding built my anger up, layer upon layer. I hated Palpatine for what he had done to me, and I wanted nothing more than to lash out on the galaxy and make everyone else suffer as I did...And then you came back into my life, and everything changed. I had a short conversation with Jade, and she has agreed that the so-called 'New Republic' has been deteriorating, and it is time for the Empire to rise again...But I do not want this to be an Empire built upon hate as it was before—"
"You expect me to believe you?" Luke snorted incredulously, laughing dryly.
Darth Vader wasn't as amused. Rather than responding with words, Vader opened his mind to his son, beckoning him to enter.
More than a little unsure, Luke did enter with the Force and felt what seemed to be a genuine desire to do good. But Luke only trusted his father as far as he could throw him—which was not very far at all. That wasn't likely to be changed so quickly.
"As a gesture of goodwill, I have a gift for you."
"Gift?" Luke raised an eyebrow. Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, did not seem to be the type to hand out presents. He got a sudden image of his father wearing a red hat with a white cotton ball at the end of it, possessing a jolly red bag of presents beside him and about to hand a wrapped lightsaber to some poor unsuspecting boy, asking him in a cold voice, 'Have you been a naughty boy?'
Shivering, he brushed the image away.
"Follow me," Vader instructed, leaving the cell.
Luke stared after him. He could pretend to follow him but then run to the docking bay...
He would be captured by a very ticked off Vader the moment he tried. Sighing, he went after his father, who was patiently waiting for him in the middle of a corridor. Luke was soon by his side, and off the pair went.
It wasn't long before Vader stopped in front of a door and entered it. Luke followed and refrained from whistling when he saw the room.
It was luxurious—he had to give it that. He hadn't known that a single room could have such space on a Star Destroyer, but it did.
Furniture was artistically placed throughout the room along with several large and expensive-looking paintings and sculptures. It contained a kitchenette and a hall with four doors.
Seeing where Luke's gaze had wandered, Vader explained, "There is a bedroom, a guest bedroom, a 'fresher, and a simulation room where you can work on your piloting skills. There is also a computer in the sim room that you are allowed to use. Now, if you will excuse me, son, I have a meeting to attend."
The Sith Lord was swiftly out the door, and Luke sensed him lock it with the Force.
A prisoner in a gilded cage, am I? Luke thought.
Vader heard his thought and replied through the Force, Only until you give me a fair chance to prove myself. Then you will be free to come and go as you please...Or even just go.
Still not happy with the absence of Mara or with his enormous new 'cell,' as he thought of it bitterly, he plopped down onto the black couch, the material seeming to instantly relax his tense muscles.
Well, he didn't have to like it to enjoy it. Right?