Title: Ghost of the Past
Author: Spirit White
Summary: Luke Skywalker died at thirteen years of age. Abruptly, the threads of the future were torn to pieces and remade, and Leia Organa and Lord Darth Vader must deal with the consequences.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas, Lucasfilms Ltd. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: Revised Friday, December 7th, 2007
Chapter Four: Son
One Year Later
Darth Vader listened to his heavy, measured footsteps as he strode down a hallway in the Devastator. The rhythmic sound of his boots and his breathing calmed his raging temper.
Mon Mothma had struck again.
Oh, he had no proof that it was Mothma, of course, but he knew it was she who had done it. She'd struck an Imperial Outpost with her pitiful band of renegades, stealing ships and killing soldiers. Not much of a loss to the Empire, no. It was the fact that on the entire Imperial fleet there was not one Admiral competent enough to take care of the aftermath of the skirmish, and he was forced to turn his flagship around to take care of it himself. That was why he was angry. He had other things to do besides oversee idiot men scrambling around like headless scurriers, stammering pathetically and giving him a Coruscant-sized headache -
His thoughts stuttered to a halt, a tingling feeling making itself known at the back of his mind. So small he had barely noticed, could barely feel it. A tiny, hardly noticeable nudge from the Force, as if someone were trying to gain his attention in a subtle, unobtrusive way. But there were no Jedi left, none remained to learn the lost Jedi art, not even a solitary Padawan. But there it was again, a soft push at his thoughts. Vader reached out, curious, tracking that tiny presence - but he didn't have to go very far.
A glint of blue caught his eye, and he turned his head. There was a child crouched in a shadow, one hand playing with an unraveled thread on the loose sleeve, his wide eyes focused unerringly on Vader. For a long moment, Vader could only stare at it, an unwelcome feeling of shock in his system.
There was a child on his ship.
Now that was something that didn't happen too often.
"What are you doing here?" He demanded, taking a step closer to the boy. The boy tilted his head back, longish hair falling away from his face.
That was when Vader realized something. He wasn't staring at the boy's eyes…he was staring through them.
To the wall behind him.
"I'm meeting my father," the boy said matter-of-factly. Vader didn't answer. He was too busy staring at the boy's body, which was outlined in blue and transparent. For a moment, he was speechless.
"What?" He managed, once he forced his mind off the transparency. The boy had said something; he'd just not caught it.
"I'm meeting my father," the boy said again.
"Who is the idiot officer who allowed his son on board my ship?" Vader asked angrily. The boy simply blinked at him.
"Oh, no one allowed me on board," he said easily. "I'm just here."
"You are a stowaway?" Vader rumbled.
"Not really," the boy replied. "I'm not really here, after all."
"You are a holo-image?" Vader asked blankly, feeling that would make sense. If one didn't think on the fact that holo-images were generally shaky, completely blue things that often distorted, and this one was clear, still, and colored. Then the boy shot that down when he answered.
"No, I'm a ghost." For the second time in as many minutes, Vader was thrown into speechless surprise.
"A what?" He demanded finally. The boy blinked up at him.
"I'm a ghost," he said, as if it were obvious. "A Force-spirit."
Darth Vader had entire armies under his command. He was responsible for hundreds of lives, when they ate, when they slept, which ones died, which ones were promoted. He prided himself on his unshakable mind, immune to weak emotions such as happiness or shock. However, for the first time in fifteen or so years, he was so shocked he was unable to even formulate a response. He simply stood there, staring, until the boy took pity on him and stood up.
"Stang," he said quietly. "Leia didn't respond like this." Louder. "Where are your quarters?"
"Quarters?" Vader asked dumbly.
"Yes, so we can talk," he said patiently. "So an officer or someone doesn't come around the corner and see you talking to the air."
Numb, Vader slowly stepped forward. The boy followed. Vader jumped, startled, for the first time in years. His life-support sped up in response to his stress, and his heart thudded faster. All the while, the only thought that ran through his mind was that the see-through boy was moving.
"Somewhere private?" The boy reminded him, and Vader managed to move again, still staring at the boy as he emerged from the shadow. His transparency was suddenly more evident. Vader instinctively moved towards his own quarters and used the Force to open to door. The boy…thing…followed him in.
Being in his own private surroundings gave Vader a little steadiness. He whirled around on the boy.
"Explain," he growled.
"I told you," the boy said in exasperation, "I'm meeting my father."
"Your father?" Vader said slowly.
"Yes."
"You are a ghost," Vader said. It wasn't a question, but the boy answered anyways.
"Yes, I am. I'm dead," the boy said.
"Your father…can see you?" Vader asked.
"Well, yes, he can. He's a Force-sensitive."
"Who?" Vader demanded. "Who is your father?" The boy gave him an exasperated look.
"Well, now, I understand that this is a bit of a shock, but shouldn't you know? Who am I here to see, meeting for the first time?"
"What are you talking about, boy?" Vader growled. The boy glared at him.
"I heard you were intelligent," he rolled his eyes. "Force, it's you!"
For the third time, numb shock filled Vader's mind. He suddenly could only see the boy's face, faintly gleaming fair hair, blue eyes, and only one name filled Vader's mind.
Padme.
"No," he rasped. "You're dead!"
"Well, duh!" The boy said, rolling his eyes again. "What did you think I was?"
"You died before you were born." Vader said, sudden images racing through his mind. The boy blinked.
"Is that what they told you?" He questioned. He looked curious. A moment later, though, he shrugged.
"Oh, well, no use now. I died last year."
"Last year?" Vader hissed. "Where – how?"
"Tatooine," the boy replied. "My Skyhopper's engine's failed. I was high. I hit hard, died fast." Stunned, the Dark Lord of the Sith could only mouth the words.
Tatooine.
Several breathing cycles passed before Vader could move. His voice was even more hoarse than usual, weak even through the vocoder.
"What is your name?"
The boy smiled at him, eyes crinkling cheerfully. Vader could almost see Tatooine's brilliant sky reflected in the blue of the orbs.
"Luke," he replied. "My name is Luke."
"Luke," Vader said slowly, numb lips forming the words. He swallowed. "Luke." He whispered. "My son." He stared at the boy – Luke – sitting on the only seat in the room with his arms wrapped around his knees, staring at him with too-blue eyes. Vader reached out a hand that would have trembled had it been real.
Luke extended his own. Vader almost flinched when the so-small hand ghosted through his own like smoke, but met Luke's eyes. They were sad and he was smiling at him gently. Vader was captivated, couldn't turn away. It was Padme's smile. Padme, whom he hadn't thought about in years, for fear of generating feelings best locked away.
Now, however, they flowed through Vader like a Force-storm, ripping through once iron-tight mental walls. Vader simply let them fall.
"How can this be?" He whispered finally. "Why are you here?"
"Because the time was right," Luke said simply. "You can see me because we are both Force-sensitive." Vader had no answer to that.
"Padme?" He asked, moments later. Luke blinked at him, smiling that soft, sad smile.
"She loves you," he said quietly. "That is all I'm allowed to say."
"What – what – " Vader blankly looked around, confused. "Now?" He whispered. Luke smiled at him.
"Don't worry, it'll be all right," he said. He slid his feet to the floor and stood up. "You need to rebuild your mind's shields, though."
Vader closed his eyes, not knowing anything else to do. A moment later, the Dark Side of the Force surged, his mental shields were rebuilding themselves. Just before Vader opened his eyes, he heard a soft voice whisper to him.
"You need to rest now, to accept everything. I will be back soon, father."
Father.
When Vader opened his eyes, the bluish figure had gone, and his turbulent feelings were once more calm and quiet. Vader knew what had happened, though.
"Luke," he said slowly. "My son."
My Force-sensitive, beautiful, long-dead son.
With that thought ringing in his mind, Darth Vader proceeded to destroy his private quarters in his grieving rage.