Chapter 18 The Road Back

With his cabin finally at full pressure, Darth Vader began removing the components of his life support suit. The helmet. The upper portion of the face mask. The lower portion with the hermetic seal. He swung the armored breastplate up over his head and looked to see the damage Luke's lightsaber had done. A seven centimeter rent in the right arm of the padded leather suit, where the lightsaber had just slid under the durasteel breastplate.

He continued undressing, removing the control belt and the tabard so that he could free his upper body of the leather padding. The wound over the top of his right biceps was a typical lightsaber wound : clean, cauterized,and at five centimeters, not even requiring the attention of a medic. As he rubbed bacta ointment over the edges of the wound, he found it was only moderately painful. Not the sort of injury that demanded the price of Luke's hand.

Just another crime to add to his sentence, the punishment that the Force was not done inflicting on him.The first slap had been the loss of Padme', that pain sharp and deep, but capable of being hidden, so that it only hurt if he touched it. The second rebuke had been the curse of the suit, the very thing that he was ever so carefully removing and placing gently on his bed so that it was not damaged.The thing that he treated so tenderly because it was necessary for his survival. Necessary, unless he chose to live the remainder of his life in a little box of a room like this one, which was palatial compared to the sphere he used as a workstation.

The suit was not an exquisite pain like Padme's death, but a dull and nagging ache that never left him.He would have thought that nearly twenty five years of imprisonment in the suit, never to feel another's touch, never to feel the warmth of a sun, to always be reminded of his own physical fragility, certainly that must be penance enough to erase his debt to the Force. But maybe some acts were beyond forgiveness, because this new punishment was the most agonizing of all.

Watching his son risk death rather than come to his side cut him like nothing else. Half of that boy was physically the same as himself, and yet he might as well have been a stranger for all that connection meant to Luke. Not even the revelation of his own dream, for them to rule the Galaxy as father and son, had any impact on Luke. If anything, the clarification of their relationship seemed to only make matters worse.The horror in Luke's eyes and in his voice as he tried to deny the truth was nearly as painful as that final look of triumph when Luke found a way to evade his destiny.

And as heart-rending as it had been to watch Luke fall, he couldn't stop replaying that moment.The boy had many fine qualities, courage and determination among them, but most of all he had an inner core of strength that did not bend, no matter how hard he was pushed. That look of fierce defiance on his son's face, even if it was directed at him, was a thing of beauty.Can you teach me that, Luke ?

And there he saw it, the reason why Luke's rejection was so excruciating.He liked this boy, he admired this boy, and it crushed him to think that his son did not find him worthy of the same feelings. He saw himself reflected in the boy's eyes, without the filter of his own defenses, without the spin of Palpatine's machinations, and he at last admitted to himself that it had been wrong. Even if they hadn't trusted him, even if they had let him down, even if to refuse Palpatine's order meant he had no hope of saving her, it had been wrong. A horrendous crime against them all, against the Force. He was ashamed.

I was supposed to just let you die ? He imagined that timeline, and saw that if he had let her die, then he would have been there for Luke. He would have raised him, been a real father, and they would not have ended up at opposite ends of a lightsaber. The thought was no longer a question. I was supposed to let you die.

His shame made him see things as she had seen them, and for the first time he felt that he could face her, not just look at her from a distance.I saw our son today, Padme'. He is more than I could have ever hoped for, and you would be very proud of him. He has your strength.

He realized the room com was going off, might have been for awhile. If he answered it now, without the helmet and mask, it would be in his own voice. He hesitated, then flipped it on.

"What is it ?" he said, the sound oddly liberating.

Piett fumbled on the other end. "Lord Vader ?"

"Who else ?"

Piett recovered with the grace that only he could manage."Lord Vader, the Emperor has summoned Executor back to Imperial Center."

"So be it," he said, and flicked off the com.

Apparently his punishment was not yet complete.

------

They weren't the same any more. He'd grown to cherish their sameness, their common experiences, how they were both orphans with heroic fathers and mothers that had died young. It made him feel like she could understand him, and that he could be a help to her, even if it hardly ever seemed like she needed any. It made all their differences fade away into insignificance.

Now as she sat across the table from him, eating dinner in the mess hall of the Alliance command ship, she didn't know they weren't the same. She did know he'd been through a rough time on Bespin, the physical trauma obvious, the emotional toll less so, though they were too close for him to hide that he was not quite right.

Once she'd asked him,"What happened out there ?"

He'd felt relief at first, thought he was ready to unburden himself of the experience, but when he opened his mouth, the words wouldn't form, and he found himself just staring into her deep brown eyes, unable to say anything.

You wouldn't understand. You wouldn't understand, because you had a perfect father whose great deeds can never be undone, and I have a inhuman thing for a father,a thing that cut off his own son's hand with the same ease as he would torture prisoners.

And even though he knew it was wrong, even for an ordinary person, let alone a Jedi in training, he envied what she had. Wanted to have the perfect memories, the family that had been real, just like she had. You wouldn't understand.

He sighed and put down his fork. Nothing on the plate looked appetizing anymore.

"What's the matter, Luke ?" she said.

He could feel her concern, her distress at not knowing what was bothering him. He could feel her love, yes, love, streaming openly from her mind. Would you still love me if you knew who I really am ?

He couldn't stand it, her warmth and sincerity, not when he was unable to return it.This is how it must start, the fall to the Dark Side, with little bits of envy, and thoughts that cannot be shared.

He pushed himself away from the dining table. He walked out of the mess hall, not turning his head even once as she called his name over and over behind him.

------

It was not easy finding a place to be alone, not on this converted frigate stuffed to the gunnels with all manner of Alliance personnel. The vessel was the refuge for the core of the Alliance troops, the Empire too close in pursuit since the Battle of Hoth to allow the establishment of a new base planetside. The Alliance was now nomadic, home being wherever its ships were gathered.

He climbed over the contents of a cargo hold brimming full of containers of either food or weapons, he didn't bother to check which. In the far end of the hold he found an empty space in which to sit, surrounded by columns of supplies, hidden from any who might look in. Through a small viewport he could see the Galaxy spectacularly bright in the void of space. He put his hand against the glass, the thick layer of insulating gas between the panes stopping the true coldness of space from coming through, but it was icy enough beneath his palm.

It felt as cold as the night air on Tatooine, as cold as the snow on Hoth, as cold as a Jedi's heart.If only he really were a Jedi, then he would be free of the tormenting emotions rampaging through his head. Of all the lessons left unlearned by not completing his training, emotional detachment was the one that he needed the most.

If he was as serene as a Jedi, then he wouldn't feel betrayed by Ben and Owen's lies about his father.Instead, he though of every occasion in which Owen had told him something about his father, those moments no longer special, but now infuriating because they were all false. And Ben, who he held in such high regard, his words were the most troubling of all, because they were a clear and conscious deception.

If he were a real Jedi, he would have no desire for attachments, and he would not have this hunger for even the illusion of family. His resentment of Leia's memories was not so much that he wanted hers, but that he wanted his own back. He wanted a father he could be proud of, he wanted to believe that once upon a time, he'd had a mother and a father that loved each other. Now he couldn't even be sure he wasn't some sort of creation like the cloned stormtoopers, because what woman would have voluntarily been with that ? He imagined his mother's sufferings and wished he could have brought her comfort.Perhaps being raised by Beru and Owen had been the most that could be done for him.

If he were a trained Jedi, then he would know that he would never fall to the Dark Side.Instead he wondered if it was a destiny that could not be avoided, because he was his father's son. However fierce their battle had been, the feelings that Vader shared with him, the feelings that traversed space so that their minds touched, were unmistakable. If evil loved him, did that make him evil ? What did his father see in him to make the feeling so strong ? Did Vader see that his temper ran too hot, that he had dark need for vengeance, that he was ripe for the fall ?

And if he were a Jedi Knight, he would not be so weak as to even consider his father's offer.The feeling that troubled him the most was that a part of him wanted that connection between them, that part of him was devastated when that link was broken by the Falcon entering hyperspace. To be the recipient of a love as fierce and primal as what his father sent to him satiated a need in him so deep that it was like an addict finally getting that hit of spice. The feeling was the only honesty he could cling to in this whole bewildering situation. He might be able to tell Leia that Vader was his father, but how could he ever tell her that a part of him wanted it to be true ?

He was no good to the Alliance in this state. He had to find a way to finish his training and purge himself of his emotions, become a real Jedi.He could feel the sting of Yoda's criticism already; he knew the Jedi Master would be disappointed with his performance at Bespin. And there was no way he could hide his tumultuous feelings from Yoda's keen perception; the fact that he'd hesitated even a moment to consider Vader's offer would be exposed, without a doubt.It was impossible to return to Dagobah in this condition.

He would have to do it alone, study, practice, make himself as cold as this viewport. He needed someplace remote, hidden, where he would draw no attention. Home. He could go home to Tatooine, the traditional destination for those that didn't want to be found. Maybe Ben had saved more than just the old lightsaber from the time before the destruction of the Jedi Order. And he would be close to the rendezvous point when it came time to rescue Han from Jabba the Hutt. Tatooine it would be.

The decision brought him a measure of relief, enough that he felt he could look into Leia's eyes to tell her he was leaving.

------

With each step further into the interior of the Imperial Senate, his dream withered a little more. Luke wasn't going to help him overthrow Palpatine and they were not going to rule the Galaxy together. He would spend the rest of his life answering the call of the man who occupied the only open office in the entire Senate complex, the man who so enjoyed sending a continual reminder that he held in one hand the former power of thousands.

Several elevators and three sets of Imperial guards later, he walked into the office that he must have entered a million times, or at least it seemed that way. It had never felt as claustrophobic and stifling as it did now.

"Lord Vader, what a pleasure to see you in person." The Emperor flashed him the political smile that portended trouble."But you have come alone. You must have failed to capture young Skywalker."

"Yes, Master. He did escape."

"Was he more powerful than you ?"

"Of course not. He's a half trained boy, nothing more," he said.

"He outsmarted you ?"

"No, Master. I had him trapped at the end of my lightsaber."

"Then you must have been too soft with him," the Emperor said.

"He would have sustained substantial damage if I pushed any harder.He is only useful if he is taken unharmed, Master." He winced as he said it, remembering Luke's amputated hand.

"He is only useful if he is taken at all. Perhaps we should place someone else in charge of this mission. Someone less...involved," Palpatine said.

"I will not allow that," he said, the words out of his mouth before he could soften them.

Palpatine leaned back in his chair, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He let the words hang in the air until the silence had become uncomfortable.

"I will permit you to remain in charge of young Skywalker. But never forget that I expect results."

"Of course, Master. I will do everything in my power to see that his capture is accomplished." He bowed slightly and turned to exit the room.

The Emperor shook his head as he watched his apprentice disappear down the hallway. I can only hope the next one is not led about as strongly by his emotions as this one.

------

The first light of dawn separated Luke from the cover of night, making his black clothed form visible against the backdrop of the dunes. R2 whistled at him from the doorway of Ben Kenobi's former dwelling.

"You stay here. I'll be fine, and I won't be gone long. I promise," Luke said as he climbed the ladder into the X-wing.

He flew the X-wing low over the sand, rising and falling with the contour of the land. Four years ago he had made a similar journey in his old X-34 landspeeder, that journey perhaps the exact moment when his life turned upside down. He wasn't sure what he was looking to find; he only knew that he couldn't come this close and not return to the home of his childhood.

Even using only the X-wing's repulsorlift engines, the familiar landmarks of the Lars homestead were already starting to appear in the landscape. The vaporator towers that would have been his first signposts were gone, probably taken within a few weeks of the tragedy, once the Jawas and other scavengers had noticed that the homestead was no longer guarded. The outline of the mountains was his guide now, the shape of the natural features imprinted forever into his memory.

As the past resurrected itself in front of his eyes, he examined the feelings he held submerged. They stayed obediently beneath the surface, none of them poised to burst through the way they did in his youth. Sadness lay there, regret for not being able to save Owen and Beru, but nothing that would threaten his mental control. He was a Jedi now, and he followed the will of the Force, not his own feelings.

Even when the entrance to the homestead popped into view, and his heart fluttered a moment and he had to swallow hard, his mind was impassive, a testament to the completeness of his training.

He brought the X-wing in close to the home, and set the ship down in the sand. Four years was not forever, but in the wilds of Tatooine it might as well have been. Peering down the open well into the heart of the dwelling he could see more evidence of looting, as well as the sand drifts that had accumulated in the interior. He headed down the steps of the entrance tunnel, his legs still possessing the physical memory of the spacing, allowing him to fly down them like he had as a child.

The suns had risen high enough to displace the colors of dawn from the sky, leaving only electric blue as he gazed upwards from the interior core. He'd been on many planets now, but none of them had a sky that could match the beauty of Tatooine. He ran his fingers along the wall as he headed down into the garage, his former place of refuge. The garage had almost been gutted, the machinery doubtless the first to be taken by scavengers. The bare frame of his beloved skyhopper lay like a picked over carcass in the back room.

His old bedroom was in a similar state, anything of value long ago removed. A clatter came from within the closet, and his lightsaber was in his hand without conscious thought. A sandrat scurried from its hiding place, and he hooked the saber back on his belt. His lightsaber, built using instructions he had found in Ben's home. He liked his new saber; it felt clean, pure, devoid of any unwanted history.

He looked around the room, and felt satisfied. He'd come to a place packed with nostalgia, and yet he didn't feel moved. The past was the past. His emotions were for information only. He was a Jedi.

As he walked out of the room his boot scuffed something on the floor, and he glanced down at it. It was the old shifter knob from Owen's swoop bike, the one he'd found in the garage, the one he'd saved because somehow old feelings were stored within it. When he'd held it before, strange images had appeared, and overwhelming emotions beyond his experience had filled his mind. The feelings became so intense that he had to let go of it, but he could never bring himself to throw it away, either.

He picked it up in his black gloved hand and felt nothing. Hmmm. Perhaps it had all been due to the overactive imagination of a teenager.Then he remembered his right hand was not truly his, and he transferred the shifter to his ungloved left hand. The old feeling of warmth radiated to his fingers, and he closed his eyes to accept what he now knew to be Force driven sensations. He saw the repeating loop of images, felt the emotions ramp upwards in a crescendo of heartbreak.

With his new control the feelings were no longer overwhelming, and he was able to let the scene play over and over. There was a familiar heat to the emotions, a characteristic fire in which love and fear and hope and desperation burned so tightly together as to be one indivisible flame. It felt just like the blistering outpouring he had received from Vader's mind. Just like it.

His mind buzzed with the implications born of his dawning realization. Somehow his father had been here, in the Lars homestead, had held this very object in his own hand. The arm he saw in the vision, the one not covered in black leather, but extending from a brown Jedi robe, might belong to his father. The beautiful girl in the vision, the one to whom overpowering love flowed, might even be his mother. They would have been at the Lars homestead because Owen was his brother, because they were family.

He was neither a manufactured creation like a cloned trooper nor a product of darkness. He was not unloved, unwanted, or abandoned.He was not evil because evil loved him, but rather that which loved him was not evil

His heart soared free, gifted with a peace that Jedi detachment had not been able to give him.The same person that had stood in the Lars garage still lived, hidden behind black armor. Something had gone terribly wrong in his family, that much was clear, but his family had once been like any other.

He felt like he was ten years old again as he ran up the stairs of the homestead, and out to the X-wing so that he could transmit a message to Leia. He was ready to come back.

------

A year had gone by. A year without word or thought or contact of any sort from his son. It seemed obvious that the boy wanted nothing to do with him. But Palpatine, who was so seldom wrong about the future, saw it otherwise.

In time, he will seek you out.

He wasn't sure he wanted that to happen. Not here, not now, with the Imperial Fleet clustered together around the second Death Star, and Palpatine thoroughly prepared for Luke's arrival. Even in the days when his dream of overthrowing his Master still lived, he would have never made the attempt under these circumstances.

And when he does, you must bring him before me.

That would be the ultimate perversion of his dream, to hand over Luke to Palpatine.The only alternative, since Luke would not stand with him, was to kill the boy. He'd vowed to do that long ago, to save Luke from a life of misery as Palpatine's servant, but that was before Bespin. To remove the light from those eyes that housed such an indomitable spirit , he didn't know that he was man enough to do it, even if serving Palpatine was its own slow death. He hoped that the Emperor was wrong, that Luke would never try to find him.

Everything is proceeding as I have forseen.

To hope that Palpatine could not see the future was to hope that no sun would ever rise again. His own visions of the future were oddly blank on the matter of Luke. The Force always left him blind to his own future, as it had about Mustafar, and about his failure to assassinate Palpatine. If he could not see Luke's future, it could only be because it was too tightly bound with his own.

Whatever happens, Luke, I will protect you, always.

------

He was leaving Dagobah again, but things were almost opposite from the last time. A year ago, he'd been leaving for Bespin, determined to save Han and Leia. Now he was on his way to Sullust to regroup with the Alliance, Han's rescue already accomplished, though it had taken two attempts to get it done. A year ago, he'd been only part way through his training, flush with talent and ability, but lacking control. Now by Yoda's own admission, he was fully trained, a Jedi, except for one last trial. It was in the nature of this trial that the greatest difference existed between then and now.

Then, Ben and Yoda had pleaded with him not to go, not to face Vader. This time they were urging him to confront Vader, Yoda invoking destiny, and Ben calling on him as their only hope. A year ago he would have fulfilled their wishes without hesitation, been grateful for their support as he embarked on his own mission of vengeance.

But that was before he had caught sight of the exquisitely beautiful flower that was the truth. It had almost been suffocated by the crop of lies that grew around it, but somehow it found a way to push through, and each new petal that opened made it more dazzling. Vader, his father. Leia, his sister.The war hero Anakin Skywalker and Vader, one and the same. Himself and Leia, so gifted with the Force that they had to be hidden from the Emperor. It mesmerized him as he waited for it to open fully and reveal all its splendor.

It had struggled so hard to survive that he could not crush it beneath his boot, not even for Obi-Wan.

------

In the midst of the monotony of the day, amongst the tedium of having nothing to do but wait for the Emperor's next command, he touched an unexpected presence aboard an ordinary lambda shuttle that was approaching Executor.

"Where is that shuttle going ?" he asked Piett.

"Shuttle Tydirium, what is your cargo and destination ?" Piett said into the com.

"Parts and technical group for the forest moon," came the reply over the com.

"Do they have a code clearance ?" he asked.

"It's an older code, sir, but it checks out," Piett said. "I was about to clear them."

What are you doing here, Luke ? Have you come as my son, or as a Rebel ?

"Shall I hold them ?" Piett prodded gently.

"No. Leave them to me. I will deal with them myself."

You have walked into a very dangerous place, Luke. Three is not a stable number among the Sith.

------

It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, to volunteer for the mission to infiltrate the Imperial line. To do so would both reunite the old team, and show the Alliance that he was still committed to the cause, even if he did have a tendency to disappear in his X-wing at odd times.

It seemed like a good idea right up until the moment his mind touched that now familiar presence. It felt neutral, maybe even bored, its languor not enough to hide the glow of the fire that crackled just beneath the surface.

He didn't know why he didn't think of it before, afterall, Vader had been on the first Death Star; it was logical that a man of his position in the Empire would also be involved in the second. And while he knew what his father felt for him, he didn't think that feeling extended to the other Rebels on board the stolen shuttle.

He tried to keep himself very still and contained, hoping that he could evade detection. But light fingers brushed over his mind, and then the presence snapped to full alertness.

"I'm endangering the mission," he said."I shouldn't have come."

"It's your imagination, kid," Han said."Let's keep a little optimism."

But it wasn't his imagination, and now the presence was looking at him dead on, calm, quiet, waiting.

If you want to catch me, Father, here's your chance.

But no tractor beam engaged the shuttle, and the voice on the other end of the com gave the clearance for the Tydirium to land on Endor. He wasn't sure why they had been let through, but the presence still felt open, honest, without a trace of guile to indicate it had set a trap. The shuttle passed over Executor, and though it sent no message, the presence never turned from him.

We will meet again soon, Father. This time I'm ready to talk.