Authors Note: Mara - yes, Vader will eventually get around to explaining
what happened between him and Padme. It might take a while, but I do plan
to incorporate it at some point ^^
That's for all the reviews you guys. It nice to know that I'm not the only
one who loves the original trilogy. *hugs Vader*
The Imperial Palace of Naboo was a colossal structure, seemingly infinite in size and complexity. Its guilded halls and corridors ran warren-like through the building - a beautiful labyrinth of glass and marble. For a stranger, it would have been all too easy to lose their way in its intricate maze.
Anakin, however, was not a stranger. Quite to the contrary, he knew the palace well. He strode quickly down a passageway, leaving only the faintest whisper of his cloak trailing across the stone-work floor. Tall windows stretched to the cleaning, looking out onto the midnight gardens outside. A milky moon hung low on the horizon and the stars blazed across the heavens. Anakin knew what that meant. He was late.
The noise of the party grew steadily louder. He reached a pair of bronze doors and, swinging them open, stepped into the ballroom. The walled space inside was enormous. The domed ceiling arched high above his head, the shining floor obscured by the bodies of countless guests. He didn't even try to guess how many people had turned up. It appeared to be in the thousands.
The young Jedi craned his neck, blue eyes quickly scanning the scene. The gathered were all people of extremely high rank and importance - and not just on Naboo either. There were kings, queens, senators, politicians, nobility --- all honored guests of Her Majesty, brought together to celebrate the anniversary of the victory over the Trade Federation.
But there was only one face that Anakin was interested in seeing.
His gaze came to rest on the distant figure of a woman. Padme Amidala stood, wine glass in hand, talking to another young lady. She was dressed in swathes of pastel colored glossimar, rich brown hair tied back in an elaborate bun. Her companion must have said something amusing because she suddenly laughed. For Anakin, standing on the other side of the room, the rest of the noise seemed to fade away into the background. The only sound that reached his ears was that of her voice - low and silvery, softly lilting.
She sounded like an angel.
She *was* an angel.
His angel.
Anakin drifted dream-like through the crowds, lightsaber swinging against his thigh. He approached her quietly, not speaking until he was stood directly behind her. At this close range, he could even smell her perfume. It was a scent that he knew well.
"Padme?"
The woman stirred at the sound of her name and turned. The smile that had previously lit up her features faded somewhat, replaced by a look of confusion.
"Can I help you?" she asked politely.
Anakin gave a weary sigh, eyes lingering on her bare shoulder. The urge to run his mouth along her exposed skin was suddenly overpowering and it took a great amount of willpower to subdue these feelings. He wasn't certain how the other guests would take to his emotional display ---
"Listen, I'm sorry I'm a little late. Obi-Wan insisted that I spend some time working on my meditation, and then my speeder wouldn't start--"
"Do I know you?" It wasn't said unkindly, more out of puzzlement than malice.
Anakin paused, not understanding, then smiled wryly. "Very funny. Can I get you a drink?" He moved to take her glass from her but was surprised when she swiftly drew her hand away.
"I'm sorry; sir," she told him, taking a step backwards "But I really don't know you."
He frowned irritably at her words. He might have been a little late, but he didn't think that he deserved that kind of treatment. He reached out to take her glass once again.
"Hey, I said that I was sorr-"
Whatever he was about to say was suddenly halted. A clammy tremor ran over his skin, icy cold and creeping. He stared down at his hand in growing horror. His blue eyes widened.
Instead of a hand of flesh and blood, there was a black glove. And --- somehow he knew --- underneath the glove, his hand was gone.
He stared up at the woman before him, shock evident on his features. His heart was lodged somewhere in his throat and a cold knife of fear stabbed in his gut. He was on the brink of a revelation --- and he sensed that he wasn't ready for the truth ---
Padme returned his look for a brief moment, then turned back to her companion, ignoring Anakin's fearful stare. She stared to laugh, picking up her conversation where she left off.
Anakin froze. A ghost of a memory danced at the edge of his consciousness, taunting him with a truth that he couldn't --- wouldn't --- invoke.
A sudden movement caught his eye.
He looked up, breath dying in his chest. He stood before a wide mirror of polished silver. All around him he could see the gathered party guests in all their lavish costumes --- he could even see Padme reflected in its gleaming depths. But where Anakin should have been, there was only a pillar of darkness.
"That's not me," he whispered, voice catching uncertainly. "That can't be me--"
He reached up a hand to touch his face, watching as the apparition in the mirror moved to do the same. The only difference was that where his fingers brushed against his warm cheek, the figure in the mirror touched only a cold mask ----
Darth Vader awoke with a start; eyes flying wide. The hoarse gasp of his respirator grated loudly in his ear. He attempted to lift himself from the bed, suddenly surprised to find that he couldn't feel his legs. Dazed and confused, he began to struggle.
There was the sound of hurried footsteps. Luke Sywalker moved quickly to stand next to his father. "Are you alright?"
Vader heard the softly spoken question and paused, looking up. He stared at the newcomer in silence for a moment, not understanding. Everything was such a blur --- then, slowly, he began to remember.
"---Luke---?"
The young Jedi smiled and nodded. "Yes, father."
Darth hesitated, glancing around him in a mixture of suspicion and trepidation. His breathing began to calm down somewhat, regulating into slow, evan intakes.
"---Where am I?"
"You're in the Infirmary --- in the Imperial base on Endor. The Rebels took it over earlier today. I figured that they would have better equipment here than on the Alliance medi-ships." Luke watched him for a moment longer, hands resting on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"
The Sith Lord blinked, considering the question, and turned to look at his hand --- or rather the charred stump where his hand used to be. The exposed wires jutted from the wound like bleeding veins.
He gave a throaty grunt. "I've been better."
Luke shook his head. "It could have been worse" he told him truthfully.
Vader was about to argue to the contrary, but decided against it. The memory of his son writhing in agony at the hands of the Emperor flashed across his mind in full, horrifying detail. It was a memory he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life.
--- Oh yes, it could have been worse.
He coughed weakly. "I suppose so."
A silence fell over them for a moment as they both lapsed into thought. The only noise in the room was the discreet beeping of the medi-driod and Vader's own rhythmic breathing.
"Where you injured?"
Luke glanced up at the sound of his father's voice. "No. Well, maybe a little---" he rubbed his aching wrist, grimacing slightly. "You're a pretty tough competitor, you know."
Darth Vader was slightly amused at the comment, though he didn't show it. "I meant from the Emperor."
The Jedi hesitated, then shrugged, looking away. "It'll hurt tomorrow, but I'll get through it. I think that he was simply playing with me more than anything else. You were the one that took the brunt of the attack."
Vader seemed less than satisfied with the answer but was too weak to push that matter further. He could feel an unfamiliar fatigue creeping up on him, warm and welcoming. He struggled against the sensation. Whether commanding a Star Destroyer or lightsaber dueling, he was always in control. To him, sleep meant giving up that control. He found the experience --- unsettling. Not to mention the dreams that had been plaguing him of late ---
"You were foolish to try and resist the Emperor. He could have killed you."
Luke smiled softly. "I knew that you wouldn't let him do that. I knew that you would save me."
"I almost didn't."
His son watched him carefully. "As long as there was chance of brining you back to the good side, that was something that I had to risk."
The older man stared blankly ahead, struggling to comprehend what he meant. The seconds slowly trickled by, steady beep of a heart monitor filling in the background.
"It was a gamble that few would have taken, son."
"That's because they don't know you like I do."
Vader couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he kept quiet. He was feeling drowsy and it made it difficult to think. The numb nothingness below his neck was beginning to worry him ---
"Luke?"
"Yes?"
The Sith stared dully at the spotless white ceiling. "Is there any particular reason why I can't feel my legs?"
Luke looked bewildered for a moment, then recalled what the medic had told him previously. "Oh, that'll just be the affects of the sedative wearing off. It's nothing to worry about." He gave a low chuckle. "Don't worry, they're still there. You'll be up and walking before you know it."
Darth Vader seemed less than comforted. "I am pleased that my current predicament provides you with amusement, my son." He gave a growl of frustration and made a futile attempt to raise his knees. "May I ask why I was sedated?" His leg didn't even twitch. He mentally gave up any hope of being able to move within the next hour or two.
"You had to be treated quickly. Besides, you were unconscious by yourself for most of the time."
Vader continued to focus his attention on the ceiling. His enhanced vision had spotted a minute crack in one of the tiles. "Being blasted by dark Force lightning is not something that one simply walks away from." He gave his son a sidelong glance. "Well, except perhaps in your case."
Luke stared down at him, eyelids half lowered as he watched him tenderly. "That was more down to you than anything I did," he murmured.
"Do not underestimate your own strength. A lesser man would have died under from the onslaught. Your sensitivity to the Force served you well."
There was a slight pause --- a hesitation.
"Luke, I must know."
The Jedi tilted his head questioningly. The dark figure on the bed stared up at him, mask blank and expressionless, unable to convey the thousand emotions that he was feeling. His chest rose and fell, breathing steady.
"What stopped you from killing me? I would have offered you no resistance."
Luke's eyebrows pulled together in a look of searching. He slowly dropped to one knee so that his face was on level with that of the Sith Lord. "Don't you know?"
Vader paused, then shook his head weakly. "No. I do not."
"You're my father."
"That didn't stop you from trying to butcher me with a lightsaber. My question is, what caused you to stop."
The younger Skywalker opened his mouth to say something --- then halted. A slight frown of thought washed over his tanned brow. The minutes dragged by, but somehow the Infirmary seemed to have gained a kind of timeless quality --- as though separate from the rest of the universe. Luke allowed his thoughts to evolve on their own. He took himself back to the moment in the throne room where he had stood over his father, lightsaber raised.
---Why had he stopped?---
He looked over to where Darth Vader lay on the medi-bed. Even lying helpless as he was, he was still a awe inspiring figure. Tall and dark - impossibly black - as though cut from pure shadow. The medic's had removed his cape and gloves before they started their scans. One hand lay, exposed and unnaturally white, across his chest. And the other ---?
Luke stared down at the other arm. It had been carefully rested at his side while he slept, the black lining of the suit ending strangely short at a charred stump where a hand used to be. Wires spilled from the scorched wound, circuits severed by a burning blade.
"Your hand."
Behind his mask, Vader frowned sleepily. He twisted his head further to look at what his son meant. He gave a slight grunt of indifference. "What of it?"
Luke didn't say anything. He lowered his head, staring down at his own hand. He flexed his gloved fingers, knowing that underneath the grafted skin; it too was simply metal and wiring ---
He glanced up at his father, the beginnings of understanding crossing his features.
"Master Yoda once showed me something, and I don't think that I ever really understood what it meant until now. We were training one day --- and he took me to a cave ---" Luke frowned at the memory, now speaking more to himself that anyone else. "I could sense the Dark Side. It was everywhere. I knew that it was dangerous, but I --- I had to see for myself. I had to know the truth." There was another pause of thought. "I went in alone --- I could feel that Dark Side closing in on me. And then -- - then you were there."
Vader was surprised by this, but chose to remain silent, allowing his son to continue.
"You stepped out of the shadows and drew your lightsaber. I was frightened --- and angry. We fought and --- I-I cut your head off. I killed you. Your head rolled away and the mask fell away -------- and then I saw that it wasn't you --- it was me. I had been fighting against myself the whole time."
Darth Vader's breathing remained unchanged, the blank mask conveying nothing of his inner thoughts. "I do not understand."
Luke remained motionless for a moment, wondering how to explain. Then, suddenly, he lifted his arm, holding his gloved hand palm up. "Look." He placed his hand beside Vader's crippled arm. "We're exactly the same."
"I don't know what-"
"But don't you understand? When we were fighting in the throne room --- I felt anger -- hate --- I felt the Dark Side, just as you did. I lashed out with my negative feelings --- wanting to hurt you. But when I saw lying wounded --- wounded in the same place as me --- it made me realize that you and I are exactly the same. It wasn't a matter of me being good and you being evil. We both succumbed to the same temptation. We were both in the same situation. That's why I couldn't kill you --- we were both as lost as each other."
The Sith Lord stared up at his son, finally understanding what the boy was trying to tell him. A sudden wave of emotion came over him. It was strange and unfamiliar - alien to a heart that had been long out of use ---
He was proud of his son.
Luke leaned forward across the bed, resting his gloved hand over Vader's own. His blue eyes shone as he gazed at his father. "That's what Yoda was trying to show me. Before I went in, he told me that all that was in the cave was what I took with me. I understand now. I was so afraid of becoming you that I didn't see the obvious --- that I already *was* you."
"Luke--"
The blonde haired Jedi stared at him expectantly. "Yes father?"
Vader paused helplessly, searching for the words inside his head. Finally, he turned to face the ceiling, eyes trained on the near-invisible crack in the tiles.
"Obi-Wan would have been pleased with you."
Luke smiled. He knew what Darth Vader had been trying to say. He gripped his father's fingers between his own, squeezing them gently.
"I know father."
The medic watched the scene from the window in the Infirmary wall. He tapped distractedly at the side of his data-pad, forehead creased in a slight frown. He was thinking.
"Doctor Chopin?"
The medic turned to look at the man standing nearby. He nodded briefly, then returned to the window. Commander Skywalker seemed to be in deep conversation with the figure in black, hands inter-joined. Chopin scowled darkly.
"What are your thoughts on this, Sismon?"
The younger medic paused, then took a step forward to stand beside Doctor Chopin. There was a moment of considering silence as they watched the two men in the medi-bay.
"I would question why we're treating Darth Vader in the first place, sir."
Chopin gave a low grunt of agreement. "Indeed. As would I."
There was an uncomfortable pause. Sismon fidgeted uncomfortably, amber eyes still fixed on Luke Skywalker. "Sir?"
"Yes?"
Sismon hesitated. "Why would Commander Skywalker call him father?"
The older man arched his graying eyebrows, lips pursed. "That is not our place to question. I daresay all will be explained shortly-"
He was about to continue when the doors at the end of the corridor opened with a gentle hiss. A number of people strode quickly down the hallway. Flanked by uniformed rebel guards, Admiral Ackbar, Mon Mothma and General Calirissian made their way down to the Infirmary. The two medics saluted quickly in the presence of their superiors. They were effectively ignored.
"--Listen, I know there's some mistake. Luke would never bring that man here."
Mon Mothma glided down the corridor, white robes flowing behind her. "Perhaps, General Calirissian. However, I would prefer to confirm the matter with my own eyes before I return to the celebrations."
Lando stared after her helplessly, trailing to a halt by the medi-bay doors. He frowned thoughtfully, then turned to the two medics, as though just noticing them. "Hey."
Doctor Chopin stood to attention. "Yes, sir?"
The general took a step forward, hands clasped behind his back. He sighed wearily. "Listen, I'm teird and I want to get back to the party, you get what I'm saying? Now, there's been some pretty wild rumors spreading through the base. Rumors involving Commander Skywalker." He paused, eyebrows raised. "You wouldn't be able to shed some light on that, would you?"
Chopin stared ahead, chin held high. "If you are referring to the fact that Darth Vader is currently being treated in the Infirmary, sir, then the answer is in the affirmative."
Lando was visibly taken back. His dark eyes flew wide, mouth hanging open.
For the first time in his life, the ex-pirate was at a loss for words.
The Imperial Palace of Naboo was a colossal structure, seemingly infinite in size and complexity. Its guilded halls and corridors ran warren-like through the building - a beautiful labyrinth of glass and marble. For a stranger, it would have been all too easy to lose their way in its intricate maze.
Anakin, however, was not a stranger. Quite to the contrary, he knew the palace well. He strode quickly down a passageway, leaving only the faintest whisper of his cloak trailing across the stone-work floor. Tall windows stretched to the cleaning, looking out onto the midnight gardens outside. A milky moon hung low on the horizon and the stars blazed across the heavens. Anakin knew what that meant. He was late.
The noise of the party grew steadily louder. He reached a pair of bronze doors and, swinging them open, stepped into the ballroom. The walled space inside was enormous. The domed ceiling arched high above his head, the shining floor obscured by the bodies of countless guests. He didn't even try to guess how many people had turned up. It appeared to be in the thousands.
The young Jedi craned his neck, blue eyes quickly scanning the scene. The gathered were all people of extremely high rank and importance - and not just on Naboo either. There were kings, queens, senators, politicians, nobility --- all honored guests of Her Majesty, brought together to celebrate the anniversary of the victory over the Trade Federation.
But there was only one face that Anakin was interested in seeing.
His gaze came to rest on the distant figure of a woman. Padme Amidala stood, wine glass in hand, talking to another young lady. She was dressed in swathes of pastel colored glossimar, rich brown hair tied back in an elaborate bun. Her companion must have said something amusing because she suddenly laughed. For Anakin, standing on the other side of the room, the rest of the noise seemed to fade away into the background. The only sound that reached his ears was that of her voice - low and silvery, softly lilting.
She sounded like an angel.
She *was* an angel.
His angel.
Anakin drifted dream-like through the crowds, lightsaber swinging against his thigh. He approached her quietly, not speaking until he was stood directly behind her. At this close range, he could even smell her perfume. It was a scent that he knew well.
"Padme?"
The woman stirred at the sound of her name and turned. The smile that had previously lit up her features faded somewhat, replaced by a look of confusion.
"Can I help you?" she asked politely.
Anakin gave a weary sigh, eyes lingering on her bare shoulder. The urge to run his mouth along her exposed skin was suddenly overpowering and it took a great amount of willpower to subdue these feelings. He wasn't certain how the other guests would take to his emotional display ---
"Listen, I'm sorry I'm a little late. Obi-Wan insisted that I spend some time working on my meditation, and then my speeder wouldn't start--"
"Do I know you?" It wasn't said unkindly, more out of puzzlement than malice.
Anakin paused, not understanding, then smiled wryly. "Very funny. Can I get you a drink?" He moved to take her glass from her but was surprised when she swiftly drew her hand away.
"I'm sorry; sir," she told him, taking a step backwards "But I really don't know you."
He frowned irritably at her words. He might have been a little late, but he didn't think that he deserved that kind of treatment. He reached out to take her glass once again.
"Hey, I said that I was sorr-"
Whatever he was about to say was suddenly halted. A clammy tremor ran over his skin, icy cold and creeping. He stared down at his hand in growing horror. His blue eyes widened.
Instead of a hand of flesh and blood, there was a black glove. And --- somehow he knew --- underneath the glove, his hand was gone.
He stared up at the woman before him, shock evident on his features. His heart was lodged somewhere in his throat and a cold knife of fear stabbed in his gut. He was on the brink of a revelation --- and he sensed that he wasn't ready for the truth ---
Padme returned his look for a brief moment, then turned back to her companion, ignoring Anakin's fearful stare. She stared to laugh, picking up her conversation where she left off.
Anakin froze. A ghost of a memory danced at the edge of his consciousness, taunting him with a truth that he couldn't --- wouldn't --- invoke.
A sudden movement caught his eye.
He looked up, breath dying in his chest. He stood before a wide mirror of polished silver. All around him he could see the gathered party guests in all their lavish costumes --- he could even see Padme reflected in its gleaming depths. But where Anakin should have been, there was only a pillar of darkness.
"That's not me," he whispered, voice catching uncertainly. "That can't be me--"
He reached up a hand to touch his face, watching as the apparition in the mirror moved to do the same. The only difference was that where his fingers brushed against his warm cheek, the figure in the mirror touched only a cold mask ----
Darth Vader awoke with a start; eyes flying wide. The hoarse gasp of his respirator grated loudly in his ear. He attempted to lift himself from the bed, suddenly surprised to find that he couldn't feel his legs. Dazed and confused, he began to struggle.
There was the sound of hurried footsteps. Luke Sywalker moved quickly to stand next to his father. "Are you alright?"
Vader heard the softly spoken question and paused, looking up. He stared at the newcomer in silence for a moment, not understanding. Everything was such a blur --- then, slowly, he began to remember.
"---Luke---?"
The young Jedi smiled and nodded. "Yes, father."
Darth hesitated, glancing around him in a mixture of suspicion and trepidation. His breathing began to calm down somewhat, regulating into slow, evan intakes.
"---Where am I?"
"You're in the Infirmary --- in the Imperial base on Endor. The Rebels took it over earlier today. I figured that they would have better equipment here than on the Alliance medi-ships." Luke watched him for a moment longer, hands resting on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"
The Sith Lord blinked, considering the question, and turned to look at his hand --- or rather the charred stump where his hand used to be. The exposed wires jutted from the wound like bleeding veins.
He gave a throaty grunt. "I've been better."
Luke shook his head. "It could have been worse" he told him truthfully.
Vader was about to argue to the contrary, but decided against it. The memory of his son writhing in agony at the hands of the Emperor flashed across his mind in full, horrifying detail. It was a memory he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life.
--- Oh yes, it could have been worse.
He coughed weakly. "I suppose so."
A silence fell over them for a moment as they both lapsed into thought. The only noise in the room was the discreet beeping of the medi-driod and Vader's own rhythmic breathing.
"Where you injured?"
Luke glanced up at the sound of his father's voice. "No. Well, maybe a little---" he rubbed his aching wrist, grimacing slightly. "You're a pretty tough competitor, you know."
Darth Vader was slightly amused at the comment, though he didn't show it. "I meant from the Emperor."
The Jedi hesitated, then shrugged, looking away. "It'll hurt tomorrow, but I'll get through it. I think that he was simply playing with me more than anything else. You were the one that took the brunt of the attack."
Vader seemed less than satisfied with the answer but was too weak to push that matter further. He could feel an unfamiliar fatigue creeping up on him, warm and welcoming. He struggled against the sensation. Whether commanding a Star Destroyer or lightsaber dueling, he was always in control. To him, sleep meant giving up that control. He found the experience --- unsettling. Not to mention the dreams that had been plaguing him of late ---
"You were foolish to try and resist the Emperor. He could have killed you."
Luke smiled softly. "I knew that you wouldn't let him do that. I knew that you would save me."
"I almost didn't."
His son watched him carefully. "As long as there was chance of brining you back to the good side, that was something that I had to risk."
The older man stared blankly ahead, struggling to comprehend what he meant. The seconds slowly trickled by, steady beep of a heart monitor filling in the background.
"It was a gamble that few would have taken, son."
"That's because they don't know you like I do."
Vader couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he kept quiet. He was feeling drowsy and it made it difficult to think. The numb nothingness below his neck was beginning to worry him ---
"Luke?"
"Yes?"
The Sith stared dully at the spotless white ceiling. "Is there any particular reason why I can't feel my legs?"
Luke looked bewildered for a moment, then recalled what the medic had told him previously. "Oh, that'll just be the affects of the sedative wearing off. It's nothing to worry about." He gave a low chuckle. "Don't worry, they're still there. You'll be up and walking before you know it."
Darth Vader seemed less than comforted. "I am pleased that my current predicament provides you with amusement, my son." He gave a growl of frustration and made a futile attempt to raise his knees. "May I ask why I was sedated?" His leg didn't even twitch. He mentally gave up any hope of being able to move within the next hour or two.
"You had to be treated quickly. Besides, you were unconscious by yourself for most of the time."
Vader continued to focus his attention on the ceiling. His enhanced vision had spotted a minute crack in one of the tiles. "Being blasted by dark Force lightning is not something that one simply walks away from." He gave his son a sidelong glance. "Well, except perhaps in your case."
Luke stared down at him, eyelids half lowered as he watched him tenderly. "That was more down to you than anything I did," he murmured.
"Do not underestimate your own strength. A lesser man would have died under from the onslaught. Your sensitivity to the Force served you well."
There was a slight pause --- a hesitation.
"Luke, I must know."
The Jedi tilted his head questioningly. The dark figure on the bed stared up at him, mask blank and expressionless, unable to convey the thousand emotions that he was feeling. His chest rose and fell, breathing steady.
"What stopped you from killing me? I would have offered you no resistance."
Luke's eyebrows pulled together in a look of searching. He slowly dropped to one knee so that his face was on level with that of the Sith Lord. "Don't you know?"
Vader paused, then shook his head weakly. "No. I do not."
"You're my father."
"That didn't stop you from trying to butcher me with a lightsaber. My question is, what caused you to stop."
The younger Skywalker opened his mouth to say something --- then halted. A slight frown of thought washed over his tanned brow. The minutes dragged by, but somehow the Infirmary seemed to have gained a kind of timeless quality --- as though separate from the rest of the universe. Luke allowed his thoughts to evolve on their own. He took himself back to the moment in the throne room where he had stood over his father, lightsaber raised.
---Why had he stopped?---
He looked over to where Darth Vader lay on the medi-bed. Even lying helpless as he was, he was still a awe inspiring figure. Tall and dark - impossibly black - as though cut from pure shadow. The medic's had removed his cape and gloves before they started their scans. One hand lay, exposed and unnaturally white, across his chest. And the other ---?
Luke stared down at the other arm. It had been carefully rested at his side while he slept, the black lining of the suit ending strangely short at a charred stump where a hand used to be. Wires spilled from the scorched wound, circuits severed by a burning blade.
"Your hand."
Behind his mask, Vader frowned sleepily. He twisted his head further to look at what his son meant. He gave a slight grunt of indifference. "What of it?"
Luke didn't say anything. He lowered his head, staring down at his own hand. He flexed his gloved fingers, knowing that underneath the grafted skin; it too was simply metal and wiring ---
He glanced up at his father, the beginnings of understanding crossing his features.
"Master Yoda once showed me something, and I don't think that I ever really understood what it meant until now. We were training one day --- and he took me to a cave ---" Luke frowned at the memory, now speaking more to himself that anyone else. "I could sense the Dark Side. It was everywhere. I knew that it was dangerous, but I --- I had to see for myself. I had to know the truth." There was another pause of thought. "I went in alone --- I could feel that Dark Side closing in on me. And then -- - then you were there."
Vader was surprised by this, but chose to remain silent, allowing his son to continue.
"You stepped out of the shadows and drew your lightsaber. I was frightened --- and angry. We fought and --- I-I cut your head off. I killed you. Your head rolled away and the mask fell away -------- and then I saw that it wasn't you --- it was me. I had been fighting against myself the whole time."
Darth Vader's breathing remained unchanged, the blank mask conveying nothing of his inner thoughts. "I do not understand."
Luke remained motionless for a moment, wondering how to explain. Then, suddenly, he lifted his arm, holding his gloved hand palm up. "Look." He placed his hand beside Vader's crippled arm. "We're exactly the same."
"I don't know what-"
"But don't you understand? When we were fighting in the throne room --- I felt anger -- hate --- I felt the Dark Side, just as you did. I lashed out with my negative feelings --- wanting to hurt you. But when I saw lying wounded --- wounded in the same place as me --- it made me realize that you and I are exactly the same. It wasn't a matter of me being good and you being evil. We both succumbed to the same temptation. We were both in the same situation. That's why I couldn't kill you --- we were both as lost as each other."
The Sith Lord stared up at his son, finally understanding what the boy was trying to tell him. A sudden wave of emotion came over him. It was strange and unfamiliar - alien to a heart that had been long out of use ---
He was proud of his son.
Luke leaned forward across the bed, resting his gloved hand over Vader's own. His blue eyes shone as he gazed at his father. "That's what Yoda was trying to show me. Before I went in, he told me that all that was in the cave was what I took with me. I understand now. I was so afraid of becoming you that I didn't see the obvious --- that I already *was* you."
"Luke--"
The blonde haired Jedi stared at him expectantly. "Yes father?"
Vader paused helplessly, searching for the words inside his head. Finally, he turned to face the ceiling, eyes trained on the near-invisible crack in the tiles.
"Obi-Wan would have been pleased with you."
Luke smiled. He knew what Darth Vader had been trying to say. He gripped his father's fingers between his own, squeezing them gently.
"I know father."
The medic watched the scene from the window in the Infirmary wall. He tapped distractedly at the side of his data-pad, forehead creased in a slight frown. He was thinking.
"Doctor Chopin?"
The medic turned to look at the man standing nearby. He nodded briefly, then returned to the window. Commander Skywalker seemed to be in deep conversation with the figure in black, hands inter-joined. Chopin scowled darkly.
"What are your thoughts on this, Sismon?"
The younger medic paused, then took a step forward to stand beside Doctor Chopin. There was a moment of considering silence as they watched the two men in the medi-bay.
"I would question why we're treating Darth Vader in the first place, sir."
Chopin gave a low grunt of agreement. "Indeed. As would I."
There was an uncomfortable pause. Sismon fidgeted uncomfortably, amber eyes still fixed on Luke Skywalker. "Sir?"
"Yes?"
Sismon hesitated. "Why would Commander Skywalker call him father?"
The older man arched his graying eyebrows, lips pursed. "That is not our place to question. I daresay all will be explained shortly-"
He was about to continue when the doors at the end of the corridor opened with a gentle hiss. A number of people strode quickly down the hallway. Flanked by uniformed rebel guards, Admiral Ackbar, Mon Mothma and General Calirissian made their way down to the Infirmary. The two medics saluted quickly in the presence of their superiors. They were effectively ignored.
"--Listen, I know there's some mistake. Luke would never bring that man here."
Mon Mothma glided down the corridor, white robes flowing behind her. "Perhaps, General Calirissian. However, I would prefer to confirm the matter with my own eyes before I return to the celebrations."
Lando stared after her helplessly, trailing to a halt by the medi-bay doors. He frowned thoughtfully, then turned to the two medics, as though just noticing them. "Hey."
Doctor Chopin stood to attention. "Yes, sir?"
The general took a step forward, hands clasped behind his back. He sighed wearily. "Listen, I'm teird and I want to get back to the party, you get what I'm saying? Now, there's been some pretty wild rumors spreading through the base. Rumors involving Commander Skywalker." He paused, eyebrows raised. "You wouldn't be able to shed some light on that, would you?"
Chopin stared ahead, chin held high. "If you are referring to the fact that Darth Vader is currently being treated in the Infirmary, sir, then the answer is in the affirmative."
Lando was visibly taken back. His dark eyes flew wide, mouth hanging open.
For the first time in his life, the ex-pirate was at a loss for words.