Another Route

Pt 20

Author's Note: Sorry for the wait. Having trouble with 23. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I haven't put one of these in a while, but let's just suffice it to say that I don't own Star Wars now, and I won't own it in any of the other chapters to come either. : )

"Yes. Do," said Padmé coldly. She pulled up a chair and sat next to Anakin, who turned away from her gaze, ashamed.

"When we fought," Obi-Wan began slowly. "And he was injured, his midi-chlorians were depleted."

"How is that possible?" asked Padmé, confused.

"Midi-chlorians reside in living cells," Anakin told her quietly. "I lost half my body. Half my midi-chlorians."

Understanding dawned on her. "So… the Emperor is more powerful?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes," said Anakin bitterly.

"Anakin," said Obi-Wan gently. "Please forgive me. What happened to you… I never intended that."

"You left me there," Anakin said coldly. "You left me."

Obi-Wan hung his head. "I thought you were going to die," he said quietly.

"So, naturally, you thought burning was the way to go," said Anakin. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to ward off the memories, and shuddered. Padmé reached forward and touched his shoulder gently.

"I am sorry. You were a brother to me, Anakin—I loved you like my family. What you did… To the Jedi, to Padmé…"

Anakin released a heavy breath. "You're right. I shouldn't be mad at you. I deserved it."

"No!" Padmé cried. "You didn't then, and you don't now!"

He looked to her. "Padmé…"

"She's right, Anakin," said Obi-Wan. "You didn't deserve it. It was appalling."

"What came after was worse," he mumbled to himself, and beside him, Luke flinched.

"What do you mean, my love?" asked Padmé, lifting his chin to make him look at her."

"Palpatine," said Luke, gritting his teeth. "Thought sedatives were a sign of weakness." He waved a hand towards his father's chest and his arms.

"No…" Padmé whispered. "No… Ani… please tell me he didn't…"

He refused to look at her. "The point is," he said after a moment. "I am not able to defeat him. I have failed, Master."

"So stubborn," said Obi-Wan, shaking his head. "All things are possible through the Force, my dear padawan."

"No. He shall not receive healing."

They all looked up to see another shining figure beside Obi-Wan. "Master Windu!" Padmé cried in surprise.

Anakin drew back. "Master Windu, I—"

"You will stand trial before the Jedi Council," said Mace Windu, crossing his arms. "You may not have failed in Obi-Wan's point of view, but that is a fact to be decided by your peers."

"I don't have a good history with the Jedi Council," Anakin muttered to himself.

"You were once a member of it," said Windu coolly.

Luke started. "Really? You were, Father?"

Anakin nodded silently.

"He hasn't recovered yet," said Padmé coldly, standing. "I won't allow it."

Windu bowed to her slightly. "With all due respect, Madam Skywalker, your husband is a Jedi and you are not. Our authority is the highest power here."

"He's right," Anakin rasped, and then submerged into a fit of coughing.

"Ani! Are you all right?" Padmé asked worriedly. She touched her hand to his face, and he drew back sharply as her fingers grazed his scars.

"Please—don't—"he whispered in a pained voice.

"Ani, I don't care about them," said Padmé gently. "I love you."

"How?" he asked her, his breath coming in short gasps. "I'm a monster, Padmé. A murderer."

"Darth Vader, yes," she said, a hard tone to her voice. "But not Anakin Skywalker."

"You don't understand, Padmé," he said hoarsely. "I am Darth Vader. What I did… it was all me."

"No, it wasn't," Padmé persisted.

"It will be decided," said Windu, interrupting the exchange. He floated back and waved a hand, and instantly the glowing visages of the Council members were visible in the room.

"Anakin Skywalker," Ki-Adi-Mundi said coolly. "Your victims." He gestured behind him, and the faces of hundreds of people appeared. Anakin let out a choked cry and shut his eyes tightly before coughing again.

"Stop it!" Padmé cried. "Can't you see he's not healthy?"

None of the Jedi responded. Luke moved to stand by his mother. "I don't approve of this," he said coldly. "My father isn't well. He needs rest."

Mace Windu turned to him. "You shall receive your own trial, in time, Padawan-learner Luke Skywalker. The Council has not forgotten the murder of Bracin Dase."

Luke flinched and fell silent. On the bed, Anakin struggled to sit up. "Ani…" Padmé began concernedly. "You're not strong enough—"

He ignored her and painstakingly lifted himself, inch by inch, off of the bed, his flesh-and blood body trembling with exertion. He turned to the side and pushed himself off, landing on his knees on the floor with a metallic thud. "Father…" Luke began as he knelt in front of the Jedi Masters.

Anakin ripped the breathing mask off of his face and, panting for air, bowed his head in front of Mace Windu. "Judge me as you will," he gasped, his voice weak and no more than a whisper.

"Very well," said Windu coldly. "Anakin Skywalker, commonly known as Darth Vader. What is your plea to the charges of murder for the victims you see before you?"

"Guilty," he whispered.

"And of the betrayal of the Republic?"

"Guilty," he repeated dumbly.

"Then we shall judge you as such," said Windu. "Anakin Skywalker, commonly known as Darth Vader—"

"Let me interrupt," said a light tenor. The ghostly Jedi looked up to see Qui-Gon Jinn 'leaning' against the doorjamb, smiling benignly.

Anakin turned with some difficult and his jaw dropped open. "Master Qui-Gon?" he whispered incredulously.

"Hello, Anakin," said Qui-Gon, moving forward. "I have come to speak in your defense."

"My defense? Master, I'm guilty," Anakin said, confused. "Whatever they decide, I deserve it."

"But you still have a job to do, Anakin," said Qui-Gon gently. "You are the Chosen One, no matter if you want to be or not."

Anakin said nothing.

"Master Skywalker?" the voice of a child suddenly asked in the silence. Anakin looked up and froze.

"Master Skywalker! There are too many of them. What are we going to do?"

The visage of the boy looked at him, standing at about his height on his knees. "Zett?" Anakin whispered hoarsely.

Zett nodded and smiled. "It's okay, Master Ani," he said easily. "I forgive you."

"But… how?" Anakin asked, choking. "I… I murdered you. I led the troops in the Purge."

"I know," said the child. "But I forgive you. You have suffered a lot, Master Ani. I know you're sorry for what you did." The child reached up his hand and touched Anakin's face, and miraculously, it felt solid. He traced the scars on his face. "All of us forgive you. All of the younglings."

"Perhaps we should take the younglings' example," said Qui-Gon to the members of the council. "Anakin still has his destiny to fulfill."

"He turned his back on the Jedi, Qui-Gon," said Windu coldly. "He single-handedly tore apart the Republic and set up this monstrosity of the Empire."

"Anakin had nothing to do with politics," said Padmé instantly. "It was Palpatine to whom that charge belongs."

"Madam Skywalker is right," said another Jedi. "The Senate elected Palpatine."

"Anakin cannot defeat Palpatine unless he is healed," said Obi-Wan finally.

"He will heal when the Darkness is gone," said Windu firmly. "He will be healed when he has proven that no vestige of Darth Vader lingers in him—when there is no anger, no hate."

"You're asking him to not feel anything," Padmé said stiffly. "That cannot be done."

"There is no emotion, only peace," said Ki-Adi-Mundi. "That is the way it must be."

"I disagree," said Qui-Gon, stepping forward. "It is love that saved Anakin. Love that made him hide his son."

"And love that pushed him to the Dark Side," Windu retorted.

"Fear of loss," Qui-Gon corrected. "And you cannot make a decision on his judgement yet, Master Windu."

"Oh?"

"Master Yoda is not present," Qui-Gon said coolly. "The entire Jedi Council must make the decision when judging a council member. Anakin is still a council member."

"Technicality," Windu muttered to himself. "Very well. We shall postpone the judgement until Master Yoda is present." With that, he and all of the others faded away, leaving only Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, and Zett.

"Bye, Master Ani. Next time, will you tell us about the time you won the podrace?" Zett asked eagerly. Anakin nodded dumbly. Zett beamed. "Good. The rest of us can't wait." Then, like the rest, he disappeared.

"It is time for us to go, as well," said Qui-Gon, looking at Anakin as he still knelt on the floor. He looked up.

"I'm sorry for everything, Master," he said quietly.

"Nonsense. You have made me very proud, Anakin. You have renounced the Dark Side. Never has anyone done that." Anakin remained silent.

"I am proud as well, Anakin," said Obi-Wan quietly.

He began to fade, but Anakin called out, "Master?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, ashamed. "For killing you."

"I always did say that you'd be the death of me, dear padawan," said Obi-Wan, a sad smile spreading across his face. His brow furrowed. "Forgive yourself."

And then they were alone again. Anakin lifted one of his arms with difficulty and set it on the bed, intending to climb up, but Luke immediately was at his side. "Let me do it, Father," he said gently, using the Force to help Anakin back onto the bed.

"How did you learn to do that?" Anakin teased hoarsely.

"I had a good teacher," Luke replied lightly. "Do you need the breath mask?"

"No…" Anakin said wearily. "I'm fine for now. Luke," he said seriously. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Making you my apprentice. An apprentice to the Dark Side, I mean," he said. "My actions could have cost you your soul, if you weren't so stubbornly good-hearted."

Luke touched his father's shoulder. "It's all right," he said finally. "I think it's better that I have some experience. Now I know what to stay away from."

"You should get some rest, Ani," said Padmé softly. "You need to recover."

"Stay with me?" he asked her quietly.

"Of course, my love," she replied, smiling slightly at him. "Always."

Luke and Leia exchanged awkward glances. "Brother," Leia said finally, smiling a little. She was still pale, still shocked.

"Sister," Luke replied. "I need some food. Walk with me to the mess hall?"

Leia nodded. "I could use another cup of stimcaf right now."

Terzé stood—they had all forgotten he was in the room. "Lady Amidala," he began.

Padmé turned. "What do you need, Terzé?" she asked.

"I wish to extend my apologies," Terzé/Lang said uncomfortably. "If not for me, this mess wouldn't have happened."

"It was not your responsibility, Terzé," said Padmé gently. "Don't worry."

"I wondered why you had deserted," Anakin remarked. "I was impressed. You were a good captain and good pilot."

"Thank you, my lord," said Terzé, inclining his head.

"But I do wonder," Anakin continued. "If you spied on me, how did you hide yourself?"

"I am a Force-blind," said Terzé, smiling slightly. "Lady Amidala taught me all she knew about it, so I knew what to look for."

"I see," said Anakin. "You're her protector?"

Terzé nodded. "I am the son of the handmaiden who was her decoy for her funeral," he explained. "She was shot by a stormtrooper."

Anakin winced. "I apologize," he whispered.

"You had not yet emerged, my lord," Terzé replied swiftly. "It was not your fault."

"Thank you for protecting her," said Anakin. "I owe you a great deal."

"It was my honor, my lord."

"I am not a 'lord' of anything," Anakin said dryly.

"Old habits die hard, my lord."

Anakin stilled. "Hopefully not too hard," he said, more to himself than to Padmé or her protector.

"Would you find some clothes for him, Terzé?" Padmé asked. "He cannot continue to wear this bodysuit thing."

"I wore it underneath the suit," Anakin explained wearily.

"I will, of course, my lady," said Terzé at once, and disappeared, leaving Padmé and Anakin alone.

"I can't believe… you… Leia…" Anakin said finally.

"I know," said Padmé, smiling.

"I wondered how she had come from Bail Organa," Anakin said, leaning back into the pillows. "He was so mild-mannered. She was… opinionated and strong-willed. She always reminded me of you."

"How could you kill him, Ani?" Padmé asked, troubled. "He was your friend."

Anakin lay silent. "I don't have any justification, Padmé," he told her sorrowfully after a moment. "I'm sorry. I don't."

She sighed. "Get some rest, my love." She pressed a hand to his cheek and he smiled slightly and closed his eyes.

Anakin opened his eyes, feeling strangely rested. He hadn't slept—truly slept—in seventeen years, when he hadn't been able to handle the nightmares anymore. "How are you feeling?" a soft voice—a voice he had longed to hear—questioned.

"Better," he responded truthfully. He turned his head, pleased to see that the pain from the operation had subsided. Padmé still sat at his side, and she looked as though she'd slept as well. "How long have I…?"

"Been out?" she finished. "About two days."

"What?"

"Your prosthetics were repaired," she explained. "The only damage was to the connections between your flesh and the mechanics. There were guards for the rest of the limbs."

"I installed them," he admitted. "Once I'd recovered, I was worried that if Palpatine got angry at me, he would electrocute me and I'd be helpless to defend myself."

She frowned. "Oh, Ani…"

"Don't think about it, Padmé," he advised her wearily.

"Do you want to get up?" she offered suddenly. "Stretch your legs?"

"Stretch my legs?" Anakin responded, raising his eyebrows.

"You know what I mean, Ani," she chided, though her expression had faltered. "Terzé found some clothes for you. We could get something to eat in the mess hall."

"I'm sure they'd be happy to have lunch with Darth Vader," he snorted. "Most of them think I plug myself to a powercell, anyway."

"Ani…"

"It's the truth, my love," he said quietly. He looked at her for a moment and grinned.

"What?"

"You… you're so beautiful," he said with a smile. "Just like I remember."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm in my forties, Anakin Skywalker," she said. "Don't be a flatterer."

"A flatterer?" he sounded genuinely confused. "Padmé, you're the most beautiful woman in the Galaxy."

She ignored his compliment. "If you're going to join the Rebels, showing up without the suit will help," she reminded him. He sighed and lifted his arms, pleased that his strength had returned. He examined the repairs.

"I'll go, if you wish it," he told her. "But I'll need…"

"Already done," she said, pointing to the respirator to which he was attached. "Pure oxygen."

"Thank you," he mumbled, humiliated by his dependency on it.

"Ani, what happened is nothing to be ashamed of," she told him, leaning forward and touching his face. "You were horribly injured. No one will think less of you for it."

"Padmé, they can't think any less of me as it is," he told her. "I'm Darth Vader. My medical condition is the least of their concerns."

"You just made a donation of several hundred million credits, a private fleet, and tactical knowledge of the Empire's inner workings," she said with a small smile. "They're feeling as amicable as they ever will."

He smiled again and she saw a shadow of the man she had loved twenty years earlier pass over him. "Perhaps you're right."

"Where did you get all of that money, anyway?" she asked him as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He winced as he upset some of the electrical burns that hadn't healed completely.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. "Gifts, I suppose. Royal families tended to appreciate my stabilizing their dynasties on order of the Emperor."

She shook her head in wonderment. "And Luke told me you own several star systems?"

He nodded. "Only one—the Bain system—has a hospitable world. The rest I use for mining, I think."

"There's a 'fresher over there," she said, pointing to the door on the opposite wall.

"I can't take a shower with these on," he said, motioning to the Bacta-soaked bandages. "I'll just wash off."

"Let me help you," she said instantly.

He stiffened. "Padmé…"

"Don't argue," she told him firmly. "Do you need help standing?"

"I can manage," he said, gripping the side of the bed and standing uneasily.

"Let me help you," she told him, picking up the portable oxygen container and taking his left arm and putting it over his shoulder. "You've not recovered your full strength yet."

They made it to the fresher and, grimacing, he removed the shirt. Padmé let out a soft hiss as she saw his back. "Oh, Ani…" she moaned in anguish, wrapping her arms around his torso and resting her cheek on the twisted skin that was his back.

"Shh," he told her gently.

She removed herself and reached around, wiping a wet cloth over his back. "I'm sorry," she told him softly. "It's not you who should be comforting me."

"Padmé," he told her suddenly, and turned to face her. "I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you. That I…" he swallowed and touched her throat with his hand. "I don't know what came over me, it's just… I thought that Obi-Wan had betrayed me, and when he showed up…"

"It's in the past," she told him seriously. "And I forgave you for it a long time ago."

He closed his eyes briefly. "I swear that I will never hurt you ever again," he said fiercely. "As long as I live, and beyond."

She smiled sadly and finished running the cloth over his skin. "Luke had some clothes made for you," she told him. "He asked for my help."

"On?"

"What you used to wear," she said with a smile. "I think you'll like them. And I got some gloves for you."

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

"I'll get them," she said, and left the 'fresher to return with an armful of cloth. "Luke didn't know the amount layers for the regalia of a Jedi Knight," she said wryly. "I think he went and changed his wardrobe because of it."

"He would," Anakin said cryptically. "He always wanted things to be exact."

"What was it like?" Padmé asked him eagerly. "Being with him?"

He frowned. "He asked questions constantly. I didn't give him enough answers," he said. "I was too rough with him. He went and got himself into a battle once," he remembered with a small laugh. "He shot down a Berk fighter and helped with two others."

"Terzé told me that," Padmé acknowledged. "But Ani, I don't want a critique of your parenting skills."

He raised an eyebrow. "Parenting skills? Padmé, I cut off my own child's hand. Granted, I didn't know he was mine, but…"

She sighed. "If you won't stop this guilt trip then I don't want to talk about it," she said firmly. "Let me help you get dressed."

Ten minutes later, he stepped out of the 'fresher, clad in the darker clothes that he had preferred almost two-decades ago. "You look just like I remember," Padmé said happily.

"Really?" he said dubiously and with a touch of sarcasm.

"Yes," she said firmly. "If the scars bother you so much, you should get them removed."

"I never had cause to," he told her. "And as soon as I get my suit back, I won't then, either."

Her gaze darkened. "I don't want you to wear it. I don't care that it lets you go without oxygen," she said, nodding to the breather he carried next to him. "I hate it. I hate everything about it."

"Padmé…"

"It's not fair," she continued stubbornly. "It's not."

"I know. But it's necessary," he told her quietly. "Let's go, okay?"

She nodded and slipped an arm around his waist, taking care to avoid the injuries she knew were there. "Luke should be there," she told him.

"I should thank him," Anakin mused. "He did save my life. And then I'm going to hurt him."

"Oh?"

"He could have gotten killed," Anakin said shortly. "Or been forced to become Palpatine's apprentice. If that had happened…"

"It didn't," Padmé reminded him. "So don't think about it. Besides, it was exactly the same kind of rescue mission you used to do with Obi-Wan, remember?"

"So?" he grumbled. "Luke isn't fully trained. He could have been—"

"Anakin," Padmé said with a little laugh, "You worry far too much. Luke wouldn't let a little thing like not being completely trained stand in his way. He has too much Skywalker in his blood."

"Lady Amidala! And… Master Jedi Skywalker," said Mon Mothma uncomfortably as she approached them. "I'm glad to see you're recovered, Master Jedi," she said.

"Jedi Knight," he corrected her, equally uncomfortable. "I was never given the rank of Master."

"Well, you're all we've got," said Mothma wanly. "I would like to know when a hearing before the High Command would be appropriate."

"Any time you would like," said Anakin courteously. "I am grateful for the opportunity."

"Of course," said Mothma. "Your son said…" she swallowed nervously. "It seems that you will be returning shortly to your private residence?"

"Unfortunately, yes," said Anakin. "I must acquire another life-support suit, as this," he said, holding up the case, "is impractical."

"I see," said Mothma. "Very well. Good day, Lady Amidala, Lord Vad—"she stopped herself. "Master Skywalker."

"Thank you, Lady Mothma," said Padmé, linking her arm with Anakin's. They walked to the mess hall—Anakin drawing various stares from the passersby—until finally, Padmé saw that he was a bit short of breath. "What is it, my love?" she asked worriedly.

He sat down. "I don't have any energy, and my heart…" he began. "It's regulated by the same machine as my breathing," he explained. "When I exercise, it increases my heart rate and respiration for me. My body isn't used to doing it on its own."

Padmé frowned. "Will you be all right?"

He nodded. "I'm fine."

"I'll go and get us something to eat," said Padmé. "Stay here."

He nodded and leaned back into the chair, ignoring the blatant stares from around him due to the breather and his disfigurements.

"You." He looked up to see a pale, brown-haired man whose eyes were blazing. "You're Darth Vader, aren't you?"

Anakin had no desire to lie, and as the truth would come out sooner or later, he responded, "I was."

The man let out a feral cry. "How dare you come here, you bastard?" he shouted. Before Anakin even realized what he was doing, the man launched himself at him and pushed him from the chair. He landed on his back painfully and the man was pummeling him. "YOU KILLED MY BROTHER!" he screamed. With a savage cry, he ripped the respirator tubes from Anakin's nose and threw the contraption across the room.

Instantly he was suffocating. Anakin gasped and tried desperately to breathe, but his damaged lungs couldn't keep up without the high oxygen content. He rolled to his side, the man having stood up, and gasped for air.

"Can't take your own medicine, can you, you bastard?" the man spat. "That's how my brother felt when he died, monster." He kicked Anakin once in the chest, right over his burns, and he cried out, but the sound died at his lips. He lifted his leg to do so again, but Anakin raised a trembling hand and called on the Force to push the man away from him.

"ANI!" A panicked scream echoed throughout the chamber. Anakin tried to move towards the sound, but he didn't have the strength to move his limbs. Slowly, he felt dark crawl in from the corners of his eyes, and he observed his attacker closing in for another kick and tried, faintly, to push him away, but couldn't focus.

"FATHER!"

Luke… he gasped mentally.

And suddenly an oxygen mask was pressed over his face and he saw his son's face swimming above him. Clarity returned to his senses and he gradually returned to himself. The pain from his chest assaulted him and he let out a moan.

"Ani! Ani, are you all right?" Padmé's worried face appeared over his own as Luke moved to help him back into the chair, grunting with the effort.

"I'm fine," he rasped.

Padmé's gaze hardened and she whipped around to where Luke had fastened the man to a chair with the Force. "Do not ever touch him again, or I swear that I'll—"

"Padmé, leave him be," Anakin said hoarsely. "I deserved it. Bring him here."

Tightlipped, Luke waved his hand and the man—clearly disturbed—walked slowly over to Anakin. "You're lucky your son was here, bastard," the man snarled, shooting a nasty glare at him.

"What is your name?" Anakin asked gently.

The man stared at him for a moment. "Hrask Verdis," he said finally.

Brother to Sergeant Bex Verdis, one of the victims of his rampage the day Luke had disappeared to Tatooine. Anakin closed his eyes briefly, remorse shooting through him. "Sergeant Bex Verdis was a good officer," he said slowly. "I'm sorry for his death. He died honorably."

"Don't you dare speak his name," Hrask said tightly. "I don't know what you're doing here, but I swear that I'll get my revenge."

"Revenge doesn't bring him back," said Anakin quietly.

"He was loyal to you!" Hrask shouted. "He used to tell me how brilliant you were—how fair, how honorable. How you got things done, how you'd never lost a battle in your life. How could you kill him? Why?"

Anakin bowed his head. "I have no excuse for my actions. All I can do is offer my sincere apology."

Hrask stared at him for a moment before finally standing up. "Apologies don't bring my brother back either," he spat, turning and stalking out of the mess hall.

Anakin slumped in his chair, and Luke felt the overwhelming sense of guilt and self-loathing emanate from his father before he carefully placed shields around his mind. "You're not that person anymore, Ani," said Padmé gently. "Darth Vader is dead."

"Padmé, look at me," he commanded her. She did so. "You cannot live in denial," he told her softly. "You have to face that my actions—what I became—were my actions. Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker were not two warring personalities, two minds, within one body. Darth Vader did not beat down the goodness of Anakin Skywalker. I am both. I am Darth Vader. His deeds are my deeds. I won't let you live a lie."

She looked at him, her lip trembling. "I can't accept that, Ani."

"Why not?"

She took a shuddering breath. "Because if I do then I'll hate you, and I love you too much for that. I'm too happy you're alive to want to kill you—because I've wanted to kill Darth Vader for eighteen years. I've wanted to hurt him like he hurt me. Like he hurt my children." She stood up and fled the room, leaving Luke and Anakin at the table.

"Father…" Luke began uncertainly.

"What is it, Luke?" Anakin asked wearily after a few minutes of complete silence as he collected himself. Padmé hated him. She had every right, of course—but to lose her so soon after finding her again… It was unbearable.

"She doesn't hate you," Luke said gently. "If she hated you, she wouldn't be so upset."

"She should hate me," Anakin said bitterly. "I deserve it."

"Father, you must let go of your guilt," Luke reprimanded. "You cannot change what you were, but you can change what you will become."

Anakin lifted his eyes to stare into Luke's—so like his own, and yet they were so different. "You are somuch wiser than I am," he said at last. "I am proud of you."

"I am proud of you as well, Father," said Luke gently. "You should get back to your room. Your chest will need to be treated."

"We should leave," Anakin said abruptly. "We should get to Bain. I can't stay here."

"If you leave they will never accept you," Luke reminded him. "And they will in time."

"I doubt that," said Anakin dryly.

"I find your lack of faith disturbing, Father," said Luke with a frown.

"What did you say?" Anakin froze.

"What?"

"I think we're more alike than I assumed," he said weakly.

Luke shrugged. "Give them some credit. Half of these guys are ex-cons and smugglers anyway. They'll give you a second chance."

"Speaking of smugglers—where's Solo? And Chewbacca?"

"They've been working on the Falcon," said Luke. "Trying to comprehend our family."

Our family.

It sounded so simple when Luke said it, Anakin mused. But he had destroyed that family—or whatever hopes for it that there had been—when he had joined Palpatine. He had driven Padmé from him, only to find her and lose her again. "I have always wanted to take a closer look at that ship," he admitted, his thoughts still on his wife. Where was she? Was she crying? Had he hurt her, though he had sworn not to?

Luke laughed out loud as he helped his father stand. "I told him that."

"And what did he say?"

"You don't want to know," Luke replied seriously. "But he lets no one touch his ship, except for me and Chewie."

Anakin sighed. "I'd hoped that wasn't the case."