Authors note: Mara - I visted theforce.net for the first time today. I'm
pretty new to the SW fandom, and I'd never been before. Waaay cool site!
I don't think that my fic is quite ready to go up there yet though. I'll
polish it up when its finished and then see if they accept it ;-)
I apologies if some of the characters seems little OC. I don't know anything about Mothma or Arckbar. The only stuff I know is from watching the movies. (Though I made my first step into the expanded universe today ---- I've ordered my first ever SW novel!) Thanks for the comments everybody.
The room had previously been used by the Imperial Commanders who ran the camp on Endor. Luke could tell - it still stank of Trillarian cigars. The hastily dropped data-pads littering the floor showed battle plans drawn up for the fleet of Star Destroyers, now obsolete, and the walls and ceiling were colored in the cheerless gray that was uniform of Imperial buildings.
The Imperials were gone, however. All either dead or safely incarcerated in the makeshift prison. That made the scene no less daunting though. Luke Skywalker would have gladly faced the whole of the Emperor's war cabinet rather than the gathering before him.
The leaders of the combined rebel forces sat behind the crescent moon shaped table, hands cupped neatly before them. The young Jedi himself stood in the center of the room. His blue eyes were fixed determinedly ahead, chin held high. Leia Organa, sitting alongside the other high ranking Rebels, momentarily mused at the change in her brother. There was nothing of the naive young farm-boy he used to be. His face was leaner, harder, and carried about it an aura of unspoken authority.
He was a man.
More than that, he was a Jedi.
Mon Mothma, sitting in the central position on the table, was the first to speak. "Commander Skywalker, do you know why you have been brought here?"
Luke didn't blink, didn't move a muscle. "No."
"Then you deny that you have done anything wrong?"
"I deny nothing."
The older woman arched an eyebrow at his boldly spoken words, but didn't comment. She leaned back in her chair, studying him intently. "Then you admit to aiding a war criminal?"
"I helped a wounded old man get medical aid, nothing more." His voice was low and softly spoken, but the power behind it was unmistakable.
Sitting beside Mothma, Lando Calirissian stared at him in disbelief. The hero of the Battle of Endor, he now wore the pins of his rank with pride upon his shirt. "Luke --- you can't be serious. You're talking about Darth Vader here." He shook his head gravely. "I'm sorry, but I don't see how that can be justified."
"Do you think that I should have left him to die?"
Lando watched him in silence. He didn't have to say what he thought that Luke should have done.
Mon Mothma glanced between the two men, then fixed her gaze on the Jedi standing before her. Her head tilted slightly. "I don't understand what could have possessed you. Why did you do it? That creature is second only to the Emperor in the control of the Empire, and every bit as twisted as his master."
Luke looked at her sadly. "You are wrong."
"Oh?" Mothma was not a stern woman, but as the undisputed leader of the Alliance, she commanded certain respect. Luke knew that he was treading on dangerous ground with his defiance. Nevertheless, there was no way around it. If he wanted to save his father, it was imperative that he convince Mothma to help him. His task would not be easy, but if Yoda had taught him one lesson before he died, it was that impossible was nothing but a frame of mind.
For Vader's sake, he had to try.
"Darth Vader is nothing like the Emperor. The Emperor was wholly consumed by the Dark Side --- there was nothing but hatred in his soul." There was a slight pause as the young man glanced at Leia. "But Vader was not beyond redemption. There was still good inside him --- his master had not driven it from him fully."
Leia stared back at him for a moment, then looked hurriedly away, lips pursed.
Luke frowned slightly, the voice of Admiral Ackbar pulling him from dwelling on his sister. The amphibian blinked his large amber eyes benignly. "No one can for one moment doubt your commitment to the Rebellion, Commander Skywalker. But you understand the reasons for our concerns." He gave a heavy, wet-sounding sigh. "The Alliance simply cannot afford to take any risks."
"There is no risk involved, Admiral, I assure you," Luke told him softly. It was not, perhaps, the whole truth. There was a great deal of risk involved. Darth Vader may have turned from the Dark Side, but that in itself held no real guarantees. Luke knew that his father would never again try to harm him, but would that benevolence extent to the Rebels?
Somehow, he doubted it.
The leather-skinned Mon Calamari turned to Mothma. If he had processed eyebrows, they might well have been raised questioningly. "The word of Skywalker is all that I need. I trust in his judgment."
Mon Mothma continued to watch the Jedi before her. "The fate of the Rebel Alliance rests in the balance. We have won a key battle at Endor, but I do not for one moment presume to have fully defeated the Imperials. You seem convinced of some kind of miraculous change within Lord Vader. I am less so. In truth, I find it very difficult to believe."
"You doubt my story?" Luke pulled himself a little straighter.
"So far Commander, you have asked me to accept Vader's presence without question. You have offered me no argument, no explanation --- nothing to convince me to allow him to stay."
"He is helpless and wounded. It is our duty to aid him."
She rested a forefinger against her chin in a gesture of consideration. "We are an alliance of war, not charity workers, and he is our sworn enemy. I am sorry, but I remain unmoved."
Mon Mothma was by no means an unkindly woman. By turn, she was generous, loving, wise --- all qualities of a much beloved leader. But as far as the Vader issue was concerned, Luke could sense that he was fighting a losing battle. Even had he not been Force sensitive, her resolution would have been obvious. Glancing around at the gathered Rebel Commanders, he sensed similar sentiments emanating from their hardened faces. Admiral Ackbar was the only possible exception. Whatever private doubts he may have harbored, the Mon Claramari chief trusted Luke wholeheartedly.
Lando Calirissian seemed less convinced. His own treatment at the hands of the Sith Lord meant that he didn't look favorably on the suggestion that Vader might find asylum with the Rebel forces. He was torn between his friendship with Luke and his own hatred for Darth Vader. It was not a matter that would be resolved quickly.
And Leia?
Strangely, Luke was having problems reading her emotions. Her mind remained curiously barricaded, her expression un-readable. The young man wished that he had had a chance to talk to her more before he had been whisked away to this meeting. The Force only knew what she was thinking.
"Then you are refusing Vader aid?" Luke challenged quietly.
Mon Mothma sat back in her chair, face expressionless. "Unless you can provide a reason for me to change my mind, I do not see how it can be avoided."
The Jedi hesitated. Reaching out with his mind, he could sense Darth Vader's weak presence down in the Infirmary. He wished that he was there with him. The overwhelming urge to protect his father was strong, and the thought of him lying on a medi-bed --- alone, helpless, and surrounded by those who would see him dead ---
His argument was going nowhere and he had to hurry it along fast. Every moment that he spent away from Vader's side was a moment of mortal danger for the Sith. His thoughts quickly sought a way out of this situation --- but to no avail. There was only one possible way that he could see to save his father. Unfortunately, it was a huge gamble in itself.
But Darth Vader needed help, and Luke alone was not in a position to provide it. He needed the aid of his fellow Rebels. He would have to lay his destiny in their hands and pray that they would be able to look past their own prejudices.
---Trust in the Force, and it shall always guide you ---
The young man drew a deep breath and stared ahead with focused blue eyes.
"He's my father."
The silence that met this statement was comparable to the void-like deadness of space. Nobody spoke, nobody blinked, and at the end of the table, Princess Leia Organa closed her eyes in unspoken grief.
"I beg your pardon?" Mon Mothma whispered, aghast. Her stately countenance displayed her total shock, one hand resting against her throat. She slowly shook her head. "Darth Vader---?"
"My father --- yes."
The lady sank further back into her chair, as though she suddenly lacked the strength to sit independently. "Impossible," she murmured.
Luke sighed. "It is the truth. I am Lord Vader's son."
With those words, Luke knew that his fate was sealed. There was no turning back now. His mouth had spoken what his heart had known ever since the encounter at Cloud City. He - Luke Skywalker, Rebel Commander and the last of the Jedi - was the son of the dark lord, Vader.
"Luke ---?" Lando stared at his friend, somewhere disbelief and trepidation. "Luke --- you're his son? Darth Vader's son?"
This was going to be a long night. Luke nodded patiently.
Mon Mothma, still reeling from the confession, glanced at the people gathered around her. "This certainly complicates matters." She frowned broodingly for a moment, then looked up once again to the blonde haired human standing before her. "Though it does explain your insistence in having him treated. Please --- explain."
And he did explain. From the events at Cloud City to his temptation in the throne room, and how Vader had rescued him from the Emperor's power. Luke omitted nothing, save for the true nature of his relationship with Leia. Something stopped him from speaking about this point --- somehow, he sensed that it would be a bad idea.
Finally, there was nothing left to say. He finished his recount of his journey back to Endor, waiting expectantly for some reply. The Rebel leaders sat in considering silence, each lost in their own private thoughts. The heavy seconds dragged by. For Luke, standing in wait for their judgment, these moments seemed like a small eternity.
Finally, it was Mothma that broke the quiet. Her unwavering gaze remained fixed on him, slim eyebrows pulled together in the ghost of a frown. She studied him intently.
"Your tale begs the question why you did not inform us of your parentage earlier?"
He gave a diminutive nod. It was a fair question he supposed.
"At first I was frightened and confused. I didn't want to accept that fact that he was my father. Would you? And then --- later --- when I began to understand what it all meant---" he paused, searching fruitlessly for the words to describe what he had gone through. "---I don't know. I guess it was just too personal to share."
Mothma considered him silence for a moment longer. Then, finally, she gave a small sad smile. "I can appreciate that. It is a very personal matter."
Luke was grateful for her understanding, but there was still a larger issue. "Mi'lady?"
"Yes, Commander."
"Will Vader be permitted to stay?"
The woman's expression became one of neutral diplomacy. "You are certain that he has renounced his dark nature?"
"I am certain of it," he assured her. A small light of hope burned bright in his soul.
She considered this for a short time. "I will want him under strict armed guard. Under no circumstances is he to be alone at any time, is that clear?"
His blue eyes gleamed expectantly. "Yes."
"I understand that he has lost his Jedi weapon?"
"His lightsaber is lost, yes."
This seemed to comfort Mothma a little. "I will hear nothing of him using his Force capabilities. If he does, he will be shot on sight. You are responsible for him, Commander Sky walker. If anything happens-"
"It won't," Luke interjected firmly.
"-*If* anything happens, I will make no compromises. He will be executed. Believe me; I would lose no sleep over ordering his death warrant, Commander." It was the truth, and they both knew it. "And do not think of this as a permanent arrangement. When he has regained sufficient health, he will be tried as a war criminal."
That caused Luke a moment's hesitation. Still, he pushed his fears aside. That was all in the future. He was only concerned about the here and now - and getting his father medical help was the most important thing.
"Thank you."
Mon Mothma gave a brief inclination of her head in acknowledgement. "I will order the posting of guard's immediately. I suggest that you go to your father's side."
Luke needed no second invitation. Giving a quick, low bow of respect, he turned on his heel and began to walk out of the room. As he did so, he caught Leia's eye. For a brief moment a look of understanding was exchanged between the siblings. Without speaking a word, they knew each others thoughts ---
Then Luke passed, and the moment was lost. The automatic doors hissed shut. The Jedi was gone.
Darth Vader watched dully as his son entered the Infirmary. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness for a while now, and wasn't certain how long Luke had been gone for. All he was aware of was waking up and suddenly finding himself alone. Not fully alone, of course. Luke maintained a constant presence within his mind, a glittering disturbance in the Force. He was reminded of the nightlight that his mother had used to leave out for him when he was a boy.
The thought amused him somewhat. His son had left him a mental nightlight. How touching.
Blinking wearily behind the mask, Vader waited until he stood at his beside before speaking. "Tell me, how did the Rebel's take it?"
Luke dropped to one knee so that he was on level with his father. He nodded. "Very well, given the circumstances. I persuaded them to let you stay."
The Sith remained unimpressed. "You are foolish to trust them. They will murder me as I lie helpless and throw you in the brig for treason."
Luke gave a soft smile. "What makes you think that?"
"It is what I would do, were the situation reversed."
The young man sighed and shook his head, not certain whether to take the comment at face value or not. Despite the family connection, Vader remained enigmatic --- mysterious. It was possible, he supposed, that his father may have made a joke. Lord Vader with a sense of humor? If possible, it was --- surreal, to say the least.
"Then it's just as well for us that Mothma is a more understanding leader than you are."
"She is an idealistic fool. Always was."
Luke stared into the pitiless black mask, trying to fathom any human kindness behind them. In this instance, he found nothing. "Maybe so, but she's the one that spared your life back there. You might do well to show her a little gratitude."
There was a short silence. Vader's rhythmic breathing, deep and steady, filled the space between them.
"Somehow, I doubt she agreed to help me from the kindness of her heart."
The thought of the war crimes trial loomed large in Luke's mind. He fought to suppress it, burying it deep within a dark place in his mind that Vader could not reach. Oh yes, Mothma had her own motives, but so long as they kept his father alive - at least for the time being - then Luke was willing to accept them as part of the deal.
He looked down at the wounded man. "We'll deal with that if and when it comes up. Right now all you've got to concentrate on is getting better."
Darth Vader gave a throaty grunt of indifference and did not reply. He stared blankly at the ceiling, chest rising and falling at consistent intervals. It was a long moment before he spoke again.
"You have sacrificed much to save me, son."
Luke wondered if he was referring to telling the other Rebel Commanders about his parentage. He did not ask however, simply continued to watch his father in silence.
Vader paused. "I am not ungrateful."
It was as close to thanks as he could bring himself to say.
Luke gave one shoulder a slight shrug. "No problem."
The silence around them deepened, but it was not wholly unwelcome. Later, they would need to talk. Questions that had remained unanswered for years would be forced into light, old memories - good and bad - made to resurface. But that would all come later. Just for now, they were content to simply remain quiet. After the recent turmoil, the Force was stilled.
It was a good feeling.
She stood on the balcony and looked out at the night sky.
Balcony was perhaps not quite a fitting description. Imperial architecture did not allow for such frivolous attachments. Rather, it was an out- jutting of concrete where officers could step out and watch the landing of shuttle craft.
There were no shuttle craft here now however, only the occasional bird winging past. Leia stared out over the forest view, brown eyes distant and without focus. Fireworks blazed on the star-lit horizon, reminding her that this was supposed to be a day of celebration.
Funny, but suddenly she didn't feel much like celebrating.
Han would be out there somewhere, probably blinding drunk by now. She didn't blame him. He had given up at lot for the Rebellion --- for her --- and he deserved this chance to let lose a little. They probably wouldn't get much chance to do so later on. The Emperor might be dead, but the war had not completely disappeared. The fight was not finished, but at least there was an end in sight.
But Leia had a fight of a different kind to face, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to face it.
Deep down, somehow, she had always known that Luke was her brother. It was a feeling that she could not explain to herself, let alone anyone else. But when Luke had told her --- told her that she was his sister --- it was like all the pieces of the jigsaw had suddenly fitted together. There was a connection between them that she could never understand, but it was there nonetheless.
More than that, she loved him. With all her heart she lived him.
When he had left her to confront Vader, it was as though he had taken a part of her away with him. She hadn't been complete until she had seen him safely back on Endor. And when she knew that he was safe --- held him in her arms once more --- she had felt happiness like nothing else in the world.
And then within moments that happiness had dissolved into confusion. Now she was standing alone under the night sky, trying to figure out what she was feeling.
Luke was Darth Vader's son. That meant that she was Darth Vader's daughter. The thought was repulsive, and she shivered despite the warmth of the evening.
But that could never be. Her father had died in the destruction of Anderaan, and no masked imposter was ever going to take his place. Luke may be willing to forgive and forget, but that was something that Leia doubted she would ever be able to do. Nothing could ever make up for the billions of innocent lives that Vader and his Empire had stolen. Even if Luke was right, and the Sith had somehow undergone a miraculous change of character, he would never find redemption in her eyes. He was a murderer, cold and cruel. He had tortured her, he had tortured Han, and in one fowl swoop he had taken everything that Leia had grown up with and loved.
If fate had had any sense of justice, he should have been the first one to die when the Death Star blew up earlier that day.
"Penny for them?"
She glanced around suddenly, startled. It was, however, only Lando.
The dark haired man stood in the open doorway. His short cape fluttered in the breeze, arms folded over his chest. He gave an apologetic smile. "It's a saying from my home planet. 'Penny for your thoughts'. It was asking you what you were thinking about."
Leia gave a slight sigh and shook her head. "Jabba the Hutt wouldn't have enough money to get all my thoughts at the moment."
Lando walked over to stand beside her. "I may not have much money, but I'm a damn good listener." He leaned back against the balcony rail. There was a hesitant pause as he looked away, frowning thoughtfully. "You knew about Luke being Vader's son didn't you?"
His words were not accusing or reproachful, merely softly questioning. Leia found herself nodding truthfully. "He told me before he went to the Death Star."
The General didn't say anything. Squinting his dark eyes against the sudden glare of a firework, he looked out over the landscape. The building rose from the centre of a clearing, and, were it light, the view would probably stretch for miles around.
"Are you okay?"
Leia glanced up at the question, surprised. "Yes of course."
Lando paused uncomfortably. "Han told me --- about what happened to Alderaan. I'm sorry Leia."
"Don't be." The Princess blinked quickly and looked away. "It happened a long time ago. I've said my prayers for them."
The ex-pirate nodded slowly. "Still, having Darth Vader hanging around the place must bring up a few old ghosts."
Ghosts. That was all that was left of her home world.
"It's nothing that I can't handle."
A low bird flew overhead, shrieking. Lando watched it pass away into the forest, melting into shadow. "I know. But if you need anything at all, we're all here for you. I just wanted you to know that."
Leia looked up at her friend sadly. "Thank you Lando. I'll remember that."
Another burst of fireworks bloomed brightly against the black horizon. The Ewok celebrations continued in innocent joviality, no one knowing or caring about what was happening within the camp. Standing on a balcony, two figures stood in silence, lost in thought. A milky white moon rose overhead, framed by the still-glittering fragments of the exploded Death Star.
It was quite beautifully really.
The darkness was absolute. There was no escaping it. The inky black void surrounded him, warm and softly stinging. Its hard nailed tendrils caressed his mind, soothing him in a welcome oblivion, void-like nothingness yawning up to greet him.
Vader was at home in the darkness. He knew it, he processed it, he controlled it. He was a creature of the night. He was a Sith warrior.
There was no fear in shadows for him.
And yet --- and yet ---
It was there --- at the edge of his consciousness. Blacker than the surrounding shade, it left a trail of creeping coldness as it danced closer. Despite himself, Vader felt the urge to hide. This thing was more powerful that he ---- he was a fool to think that he could have defeated it.
"---You cannot escape me ---"
The soft hiss invaded his brain. No matter where he turned, he could not be rid of its whispered words. Wherever he went, it was with him.
"---Look at you. Weak. Pathetic. Just like the boy. You cannot flee so easily ---"
The feeling grew in strength. Cold darkness wrapped around his heart and mind, gripping him an icy choke. He didn't struggle. What was the point? He was already lost.
"---You will die, Vader. And your children with you ---"
The words were spoken, the promise sealed. The thing retreated, leaving Darth Vader broken and breathless, trembling on the floor. He sank to his hands and knees, head so heavy that he could not life it.
Ruined, he just let himself die.
His eyes fluttered open behind the mask, respirator taking in a hoarse gasp of air. The cool white of the ceiling greeted his blurred vision and, for a moment, he was at a loss to explain where he was. He glanced to his side and saw Luke asleep, head resting on elbows folded on Vader's bed. He was in the Infirmary --- in the base on Endor.
---- a dream ---- it was just a dream ----
Sighing softly in relief, he allowed his body to relax, tense muscles letting go slowly. Adrenaline buzzed through his veins and he was sweating uncomfortably inside his heavy suit. The knot of fear in his stomach refused to dissipate, making him feel oddly sick.
His fear was irrational, he knew that. Just another dream - a random fluctuation of his brain when he was asleep, nothing more. He couldn't even remember what it had been about ---
The cold presence in his mind died away. He struggled to identify it before it died completely. It was so familiar --- so infuriatingly familiar. But when he tried to think about it more clearly, the presence was gone, leaving Vader alone.
Glancing down at Luke, he decided to let his son rest. He would not trouble him with something so trivial as a bad dream. And besides, Luke needed his risk. He had been injured far more than he would have liked to admit with his earlier battle, and he would need a great deal of rest in the coming days.
Shifting more comfortably on the medi-bed, Darth Vader cupped his hands on his chest and counted the minutes as they passed. He would not sleep again that night. The lurking threat that the nightmare held was still bothering him.
He regretted having lost his lightsaber.
I apologies if some of the characters seems little OC. I don't know anything about Mothma or Arckbar. The only stuff I know is from watching the movies. (Though I made my first step into the expanded universe today ---- I've ordered my first ever SW novel!) Thanks for the comments everybody.
The room had previously been used by the Imperial Commanders who ran the camp on Endor. Luke could tell - it still stank of Trillarian cigars. The hastily dropped data-pads littering the floor showed battle plans drawn up for the fleet of Star Destroyers, now obsolete, and the walls and ceiling were colored in the cheerless gray that was uniform of Imperial buildings.
The Imperials were gone, however. All either dead or safely incarcerated in the makeshift prison. That made the scene no less daunting though. Luke Skywalker would have gladly faced the whole of the Emperor's war cabinet rather than the gathering before him.
The leaders of the combined rebel forces sat behind the crescent moon shaped table, hands cupped neatly before them. The young Jedi himself stood in the center of the room. His blue eyes were fixed determinedly ahead, chin held high. Leia Organa, sitting alongside the other high ranking Rebels, momentarily mused at the change in her brother. There was nothing of the naive young farm-boy he used to be. His face was leaner, harder, and carried about it an aura of unspoken authority.
He was a man.
More than that, he was a Jedi.
Mon Mothma, sitting in the central position on the table, was the first to speak. "Commander Skywalker, do you know why you have been brought here?"
Luke didn't blink, didn't move a muscle. "No."
"Then you deny that you have done anything wrong?"
"I deny nothing."
The older woman arched an eyebrow at his boldly spoken words, but didn't comment. She leaned back in her chair, studying him intently. "Then you admit to aiding a war criminal?"
"I helped a wounded old man get medical aid, nothing more." His voice was low and softly spoken, but the power behind it was unmistakable.
Sitting beside Mothma, Lando Calirissian stared at him in disbelief. The hero of the Battle of Endor, he now wore the pins of his rank with pride upon his shirt. "Luke --- you can't be serious. You're talking about Darth Vader here." He shook his head gravely. "I'm sorry, but I don't see how that can be justified."
"Do you think that I should have left him to die?"
Lando watched him in silence. He didn't have to say what he thought that Luke should have done.
Mon Mothma glanced between the two men, then fixed her gaze on the Jedi standing before her. Her head tilted slightly. "I don't understand what could have possessed you. Why did you do it? That creature is second only to the Emperor in the control of the Empire, and every bit as twisted as his master."
Luke looked at her sadly. "You are wrong."
"Oh?" Mothma was not a stern woman, but as the undisputed leader of the Alliance, she commanded certain respect. Luke knew that he was treading on dangerous ground with his defiance. Nevertheless, there was no way around it. If he wanted to save his father, it was imperative that he convince Mothma to help him. His task would not be easy, but if Yoda had taught him one lesson before he died, it was that impossible was nothing but a frame of mind.
For Vader's sake, he had to try.
"Darth Vader is nothing like the Emperor. The Emperor was wholly consumed by the Dark Side --- there was nothing but hatred in his soul." There was a slight pause as the young man glanced at Leia. "But Vader was not beyond redemption. There was still good inside him --- his master had not driven it from him fully."
Leia stared back at him for a moment, then looked hurriedly away, lips pursed.
Luke frowned slightly, the voice of Admiral Ackbar pulling him from dwelling on his sister. The amphibian blinked his large amber eyes benignly. "No one can for one moment doubt your commitment to the Rebellion, Commander Skywalker. But you understand the reasons for our concerns." He gave a heavy, wet-sounding sigh. "The Alliance simply cannot afford to take any risks."
"There is no risk involved, Admiral, I assure you," Luke told him softly. It was not, perhaps, the whole truth. There was a great deal of risk involved. Darth Vader may have turned from the Dark Side, but that in itself held no real guarantees. Luke knew that his father would never again try to harm him, but would that benevolence extent to the Rebels?
Somehow, he doubted it.
The leather-skinned Mon Calamari turned to Mothma. If he had processed eyebrows, they might well have been raised questioningly. "The word of Skywalker is all that I need. I trust in his judgment."
Mon Mothma continued to watch the Jedi before her. "The fate of the Rebel Alliance rests in the balance. We have won a key battle at Endor, but I do not for one moment presume to have fully defeated the Imperials. You seem convinced of some kind of miraculous change within Lord Vader. I am less so. In truth, I find it very difficult to believe."
"You doubt my story?" Luke pulled himself a little straighter.
"So far Commander, you have asked me to accept Vader's presence without question. You have offered me no argument, no explanation --- nothing to convince me to allow him to stay."
"He is helpless and wounded. It is our duty to aid him."
She rested a forefinger against her chin in a gesture of consideration. "We are an alliance of war, not charity workers, and he is our sworn enemy. I am sorry, but I remain unmoved."
Mon Mothma was by no means an unkindly woman. By turn, she was generous, loving, wise --- all qualities of a much beloved leader. But as far as the Vader issue was concerned, Luke could sense that he was fighting a losing battle. Even had he not been Force sensitive, her resolution would have been obvious. Glancing around at the gathered Rebel Commanders, he sensed similar sentiments emanating from their hardened faces. Admiral Ackbar was the only possible exception. Whatever private doubts he may have harbored, the Mon Claramari chief trusted Luke wholeheartedly.
Lando Calirissian seemed less convinced. His own treatment at the hands of the Sith Lord meant that he didn't look favorably on the suggestion that Vader might find asylum with the Rebel forces. He was torn between his friendship with Luke and his own hatred for Darth Vader. It was not a matter that would be resolved quickly.
And Leia?
Strangely, Luke was having problems reading her emotions. Her mind remained curiously barricaded, her expression un-readable. The young man wished that he had had a chance to talk to her more before he had been whisked away to this meeting. The Force only knew what she was thinking.
"Then you are refusing Vader aid?" Luke challenged quietly.
Mon Mothma sat back in her chair, face expressionless. "Unless you can provide a reason for me to change my mind, I do not see how it can be avoided."
The Jedi hesitated. Reaching out with his mind, he could sense Darth Vader's weak presence down in the Infirmary. He wished that he was there with him. The overwhelming urge to protect his father was strong, and the thought of him lying on a medi-bed --- alone, helpless, and surrounded by those who would see him dead ---
His argument was going nowhere and he had to hurry it along fast. Every moment that he spent away from Vader's side was a moment of mortal danger for the Sith. His thoughts quickly sought a way out of this situation --- but to no avail. There was only one possible way that he could see to save his father. Unfortunately, it was a huge gamble in itself.
But Darth Vader needed help, and Luke alone was not in a position to provide it. He needed the aid of his fellow Rebels. He would have to lay his destiny in their hands and pray that they would be able to look past their own prejudices.
---Trust in the Force, and it shall always guide you ---
The young man drew a deep breath and stared ahead with focused blue eyes.
"He's my father."
The silence that met this statement was comparable to the void-like deadness of space. Nobody spoke, nobody blinked, and at the end of the table, Princess Leia Organa closed her eyes in unspoken grief.
"I beg your pardon?" Mon Mothma whispered, aghast. Her stately countenance displayed her total shock, one hand resting against her throat. She slowly shook her head. "Darth Vader---?"
"My father --- yes."
The lady sank further back into her chair, as though she suddenly lacked the strength to sit independently. "Impossible," she murmured.
Luke sighed. "It is the truth. I am Lord Vader's son."
With those words, Luke knew that his fate was sealed. There was no turning back now. His mouth had spoken what his heart had known ever since the encounter at Cloud City. He - Luke Skywalker, Rebel Commander and the last of the Jedi - was the son of the dark lord, Vader.
"Luke ---?" Lando stared at his friend, somewhere disbelief and trepidation. "Luke --- you're his son? Darth Vader's son?"
This was going to be a long night. Luke nodded patiently.
Mon Mothma, still reeling from the confession, glanced at the people gathered around her. "This certainly complicates matters." She frowned broodingly for a moment, then looked up once again to the blonde haired human standing before her. "Though it does explain your insistence in having him treated. Please --- explain."
And he did explain. From the events at Cloud City to his temptation in the throne room, and how Vader had rescued him from the Emperor's power. Luke omitted nothing, save for the true nature of his relationship with Leia. Something stopped him from speaking about this point --- somehow, he sensed that it would be a bad idea.
Finally, there was nothing left to say. He finished his recount of his journey back to Endor, waiting expectantly for some reply. The Rebel leaders sat in considering silence, each lost in their own private thoughts. The heavy seconds dragged by. For Luke, standing in wait for their judgment, these moments seemed like a small eternity.
Finally, it was Mothma that broke the quiet. Her unwavering gaze remained fixed on him, slim eyebrows pulled together in the ghost of a frown. She studied him intently.
"Your tale begs the question why you did not inform us of your parentage earlier?"
He gave a diminutive nod. It was a fair question he supposed.
"At first I was frightened and confused. I didn't want to accept that fact that he was my father. Would you? And then --- later --- when I began to understand what it all meant---" he paused, searching fruitlessly for the words to describe what he had gone through. "---I don't know. I guess it was just too personal to share."
Mothma considered him silence for a moment longer. Then, finally, she gave a small sad smile. "I can appreciate that. It is a very personal matter."
Luke was grateful for her understanding, but there was still a larger issue. "Mi'lady?"
"Yes, Commander."
"Will Vader be permitted to stay?"
The woman's expression became one of neutral diplomacy. "You are certain that he has renounced his dark nature?"
"I am certain of it," he assured her. A small light of hope burned bright in his soul.
She considered this for a short time. "I will want him under strict armed guard. Under no circumstances is he to be alone at any time, is that clear?"
His blue eyes gleamed expectantly. "Yes."
"I understand that he has lost his Jedi weapon?"
"His lightsaber is lost, yes."
This seemed to comfort Mothma a little. "I will hear nothing of him using his Force capabilities. If he does, he will be shot on sight. You are responsible for him, Commander Sky walker. If anything happens-"
"It won't," Luke interjected firmly.
"-*If* anything happens, I will make no compromises. He will be executed. Believe me; I would lose no sleep over ordering his death warrant, Commander." It was the truth, and they both knew it. "And do not think of this as a permanent arrangement. When he has regained sufficient health, he will be tried as a war criminal."
That caused Luke a moment's hesitation. Still, he pushed his fears aside. That was all in the future. He was only concerned about the here and now - and getting his father medical help was the most important thing.
"Thank you."
Mon Mothma gave a brief inclination of her head in acknowledgement. "I will order the posting of guard's immediately. I suggest that you go to your father's side."
Luke needed no second invitation. Giving a quick, low bow of respect, he turned on his heel and began to walk out of the room. As he did so, he caught Leia's eye. For a brief moment a look of understanding was exchanged between the siblings. Without speaking a word, they knew each others thoughts ---
Then Luke passed, and the moment was lost. The automatic doors hissed shut. The Jedi was gone.
Darth Vader watched dully as his son entered the Infirmary. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness for a while now, and wasn't certain how long Luke had been gone for. All he was aware of was waking up and suddenly finding himself alone. Not fully alone, of course. Luke maintained a constant presence within his mind, a glittering disturbance in the Force. He was reminded of the nightlight that his mother had used to leave out for him when he was a boy.
The thought amused him somewhat. His son had left him a mental nightlight. How touching.
Blinking wearily behind the mask, Vader waited until he stood at his beside before speaking. "Tell me, how did the Rebel's take it?"
Luke dropped to one knee so that he was on level with his father. He nodded. "Very well, given the circumstances. I persuaded them to let you stay."
The Sith remained unimpressed. "You are foolish to trust them. They will murder me as I lie helpless and throw you in the brig for treason."
Luke gave a soft smile. "What makes you think that?"
"It is what I would do, were the situation reversed."
The young man sighed and shook his head, not certain whether to take the comment at face value or not. Despite the family connection, Vader remained enigmatic --- mysterious. It was possible, he supposed, that his father may have made a joke. Lord Vader with a sense of humor? If possible, it was --- surreal, to say the least.
"Then it's just as well for us that Mothma is a more understanding leader than you are."
"She is an idealistic fool. Always was."
Luke stared into the pitiless black mask, trying to fathom any human kindness behind them. In this instance, he found nothing. "Maybe so, but she's the one that spared your life back there. You might do well to show her a little gratitude."
There was a short silence. Vader's rhythmic breathing, deep and steady, filled the space between them.
"Somehow, I doubt she agreed to help me from the kindness of her heart."
The thought of the war crimes trial loomed large in Luke's mind. He fought to suppress it, burying it deep within a dark place in his mind that Vader could not reach. Oh yes, Mothma had her own motives, but so long as they kept his father alive - at least for the time being - then Luke was willing to accept them as part of the deal.
He looked down at the wounded man. "We'll deal with that if and when it comes up. Right now all you've got to concentrate on is getting better."
Darth Vader gave a throaty grunt of indifference and did not reply. He stared blankly at the ceiling, chest rising and falling at consistent intervals. It was a long moment before he spoke again.
"You have sacrificed much to save me, son."
Luke wondered if he was referring to telling the other Rebel Commanders about his parentage. He did not ask however, simply continued to watch his father in silence.
Vader paused. "I am not ungrateful."
It was as close to thanks as he could bring himself to say.
Luke gave one shoulder a slight shrug. "No problem."
The silence around them deepened, but it was not wholly unwelcome. Later, they would need to talk. Questions that had remained unanswered for years would be forced into light, old memories - good and bad - made to resurface. But that would all come later. Just for now, they were content to simply remain quiet. After the recent turmoil, the Force was stilled.
It was a good feeling.
She stood on the balcony and looked out at the night sky.
Balcony was perhaps not quite a fitting description. Imperial architecture did not allow for such frivolous attachments. Rather, it was an out- jutting of concrete where officers could step out and watch the landing of shuttle craft.
There were no shuttle craft here now however, only the occasional bird winging past. Leia stared out over the forest view, brown eyes distant and without focus. Fireworks blazed on the star-lit horizon, reminding her that this was supposed to be a day of celebration.
Funny, but suddenly she didn't feel much like celebrating.
Han would be out there somewhere, probably blinding drunk by now. She didn't blame him. He had given up at lot for the Rebellion --- for her --- and he deserved this chance to let lose a little. They probably wouldn't get much chance to do so later on. The Emperor might be dead, but the war had not completely disappeared. The fight was not finished, but at least there was an end in sight.
But Leia had a fight of a different kind to face, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to face it.
Deep down, somehow, she had always known that Luke was her brother. It was a feeling that she could not explain to herself, let alone anyone else. But when Luke had told her --- told her that she was his sister --- it was like all the pieces of the jigsaw had suddenly fitted together. There was a connection between them that she could never understand, but it was there nonetheless.
More than that, she loved him. With all her heart she lived him.
When he had left her to confront Vader, it was as though he had taken a part of her away with him. She hadn't been complete until she had seen him safely back on Endor. And when she knew that he was safe --- held him in her arms once more --- she had felt happiness like nothing else in the world.
And then within moments that happiness had dissolved into confusion. Now she was standing alone under the night sky, trying to figure out what she was feeling.
Luke was Darth Vader's son. That meant that she was Darth Vader's daughter. The thought was repulsive, and she shivered despite the warmth of the evening.
But that could never be. Her father had died in the destruction of Anderaan, and no masked imposter was ever going to take his place. Luke may be willing to forgive and forget, but that was something that Leia doubted she would ever be able to do. Nothing could ever make up for the billions of innocent lives that Vader and his Empire had stolen. Even if Luke was right, and the Sith had somehow undergone a miraculous change of character, he would never find redemption in her eyes. He was a murderer, cold and cruel. He had tortured her, he had tortured Han, and in one fowl swoop he had taken everything that Leia had grown up with and loved.
If fate had had any sense of justice, he should have been the first one to die when the Death Star blew up earlier that day.
"Penny for them?"
She glanced around suddenly, startled. It was, however, only Lando.
The dark haired man stood in the open doorway. His short cape fluttered in the breeze, arms folded over his chest. He gave an apologetic smile. "It's a saying from my home planet. 'Penny for your thoughts'. It was asking you what you were thinking about."
Leia gave a slight sigh and shook her head. "Jabba the Hutt wouldn't have enough money to get all my thoughts at the moment."
Lando walked over to stand beside her. "I may not have much money, but I'm a damn good listener." He leaned back against the balcony rail. There was a hesitant pause as he looked away, frowning thoughtfully. "You knew about Luke being Vader's son didn't you?"
His words were not accusing or reproachful, merely softly questioning. Leia found herself nodding truthfully. "He told me before he went to the Death Star."
The General didn't say anything. Squinting his dark eyes against the sudden glare of a firework, he looked out over the landscape. The building rose from the centre of a clearing, and, were it light, the view would probably stretch for miles around.
"Are you okay?"
Leia glanced up at the question, surprised. "Yes of course."
Lando paused uncomfortably. "Han told me --- about what happened to Alderaan. I'm sorry Leia."
"Don't be." The Princess blinked quickly and looked away. "It happened a long time ago. I've said my prayers for them."
The ex-pirate nodded slowly. "Still, having Darth Vader hanging around the place must bring up a few old ghosts."
Ghosts. That was all that was left of her home world.
"It's nothing that I can't handle."
A low bird flew overhead, shrieking. Lando watched it pass away into the forest, melting into shadow. "I know. But if you need anything at all, we're all here for you. I just wanted you to know that."
Leia looked up at her friend sadly. "Thank you Lando. I'll remember that."
Another burst of fireworks bloomed brightly against the black horizon. The Ewok celebrations continued in innocent joviality, no one knowing or caring about what was happening within the camp. Standing on a balcony, two figures stood in silence, lost in thought. A milky white moon rose overhead, framed by the still-glittering fragments of the exploded Death Star.
It was quite beautifully really.
The darkness was absolute. There was no escaping it. The inky black void surrounded him, warm and softly stinging. Its hard nailed tendrils caressed his mind, soothing him in a welcome oblivion, void-like nothingness yawning up to greet him.
Vader was at home in the darkness. He knew it, he processed it, he controlled it. He was a creature of the night. He was a Sith warrior.
There was no fear in shadows for him.
And yet --- and yet ---
It was there --- at the edge of his consciousness. Blacker than the surrounding shade, it left a trail of creeping coldness as it danced closer. Despite himself, Vader felt the urge to hide. This thing was more powerful that he ---- he was a fool to think that he could have defeated it.
"---You cannot escape me ---"
The soft hiss invaded his brain. No matter where he turned, he could not be rid of its whispered words. Wherever he went, it was with him.
"---Look at you. Weak. Pathetic. Just like the boy. You cannot flee so easily ---"
The feeling grew in strength. Cold darkness wrapped around his heart and mind, gripping him an icy choke. He didn't struggle. What was the point? He was already lost.
"---You will die, Vader. And your children with you ---"
The words were spoken, the promise sealed. The thing retreated, leaving Darth Vader broken and breathless, trembling on the floor. He sank to his hands and knees, head so heavy that he could not life it.
Ruined, he just let himself die.
His eyes fluttered open behind the mask, respirator taking in a hoarse gasp of air. The cool white of the ceiling greeted his blurred vision and, for a moment, he was at a loss to explain where he was. He glanced to his side and saw Luke asleep, head resting on elbows folded on Vader's bed. He was in the Infirmary --- in the base on Endor.
---- a dream ---- it was just a dream ----
Sighing softly in relief, he allowed his body to relax, tense muscles letting go slowly. Adrenaline buzzed through his veins and he was sweating uncomfortably inside his heavy suit. The knot of fear in his stomach refused to dissipate, making him feel oddly sick.
His fear was irrational, he knew that. Just another dream - a random fluctuation of his brain when he was asleep, nothing more. He couldn't even remember what it had been about ---
The cold presence in his mind died away. He struggled to identify it before it died completely. It was so familiar --- so infuriatingly familiar. But when he tried to think about it more clearly, the presence was gone, leaving Vader alone.
Glancing down at Luke, he decided to let his son rest. He would not trouble him with something so trivial as a bad dream. And besides, Luke needed his risk. He had been injured far more than he would have liked to admit with his earlier battle, and he would need a great deal of rest in the coming days.
Shifting more comfortably on the medi-bed, Darth Vader cupped his hands on his chest and counted the minutes as they passed. He would not sleep again that night. The lurking threat that the nightmare held was still bothering him.
He regretted having lost his lightsaber.