The thing about blast shields is there's no quiet way to open them. It had always made sneaking around on Dad's ship difficult when they were younger. Maybe that was why he had them installed in our home too...

He did that for safety, Leia answered. Now shields up!

Luke wanted to rebuke her for being in his head again, but she was right. He was tempted to leave them down just to spite her. On any other night he would have. It drove her crazy when he left them down all the way and just loudly projected nonsense into the Force. It was their sibling equivalent of you're breathing too heavy!, except far more annoying.

But now was not the time for petty teasing, as they crept along the anterior hall in their father's chamber, cautious of the ice forming on the floor. They resisted the urge to hold their bare arms against the cold. Their standard Imperial Academy uniforms, which they were too lazy to change out of, were ideal for temperate Coruscant weather but offered little protection against a Sith-induced ice age.

Leia tugged at the sleeves of her white collared shirt and rued her decision to wear the optional tartan pleated skirt today. At least Luke had long pants. Their shirts were identical, with the school's galactic emblem on their left breastplates. Luke tugged at his shirt too and sent her, at least we have socks? She nodded, as she let her bun out so that her long chestnut hair could offer some additional coverage for her arms. Then she reached another foot forward, to continue slowly dragging herself down their father's private hall.

His quarters weren't just a bedroom, like theirs were. He had a small collection of additional rooms before his sleeping quarters, ones he didn't want the children to have access to. He had a weapon's closet, which was the only room in the apartment that Luke had never successfully broken into. Closet was a poor name for it, Luke thought. It was nearly the size of another bedroom! He had only glimpsed inside a small handful of times, when his dad needed to retrieve something specific. It was like an arms museum in there. Everything was perfectly displayed and secured and organized. He wondered if anyone could truly need that many unique weapons.

The next room was a small mediation chamber that consisted of a few Force relics their father had collected over the years and single padded matt on the floor. It was meant to be minimal and bare. It was also the only completely soundproof room in their home. Luke remembered a time when Leia was prone to shrieking at an ear-piercing decibel when she didn't get her way, and their father briefly repurposed this space as her personal time-out room.

He had a private office, which he rarely used. Dad preferred to work in the conference room so the kids could be by him, only choosing to come back here when the subject material was too sensitive, or when the twins got too out of hand for him to focus. Or if the Emperor was calling. Although he usually used the meditation room for those calls.

Then he had the standard 'fresher, closet and sleeping area, though the twins knew he used the meditation pad and his bed practically equal. When they woke in the night, they still checked there first before going to his bedside.

That's where he'll be, Leia sent to Luke, pointing to the door that led to the mediation chamber. Luke reached out with the Force to check her suspicion. Not here, the Force called to him as he tested the room. He grimaced as his mind griped please not the armory.

Leia shot him a glare for thinking that. Luke tried to raise his shields again. He really ought to practice more. Check the others, she instructed. Luke reached out, pressing into the office and the 'fresher. Nope. He pressed forward into the bedroom and found his father's presence there, perhaps sitting on the bed? A flare of unfocused anger pressed back against him.

That was strange. Usually Sith-dad didn't sit on his bed, preferring to rage in the peace of the meditation chamber, wrapping himself deep in the darkside, until it overtook him, nearly erasing the line between man and Sith. But never fully. He would linger in the darkside for hours, before something pulled him out, some silver thread that he never lost hold of.

"That's you two," their father had told them when they asked. As long as he had the children, he would never fully depart into the darkness, much to his master's vexation. Luke didn't dare wonder what his father would be like if he gave in wholly, or… if there would ever come a day when he couldn't pull himself back out.

The twins slid their socked feet across the icy floor until they reached the end of the hall which opened into a minimally appointed bedroom. He had dark furniture, a large bed with black sheets, black window drapes that were pulled closed more often than not, and gray stone flooring. The only color in the room were the holos of the children that he kept on display. It was strange to Luke, to catch a glimpse of his own joyous face in a frozen image, while he was barely keeping his cool now.

But he didn't have time to dwell on it. Because there he was, Dad, sitting on his bed. His usually tall and board figure was hunched over, nursing a gruesome injury. He had managed to keep himself silent, but Luke could see their father was sweating through the pain, dark robes slick to his body, biting his own lips bloody not to howl. Luke couldn't get a direct view at the injury, but he could see the blood splattered on the floor around his father's boots.

Don't get sick, Luke told himself as his stomach flipped at the sight.

At least it's his own blood, Leia sent her brother.

Luke understood the hint, but that hardly made him feel better. He felt a sharp pang of guilt, as he realized he wished it was only someone else's blood, regardless of the moral implications of that.

Their father had dropped the towel he must have been clutching to the wound during his flight home and was doing his best to tend to the open gash. His arms moved and they heard the distinct clack of a surgical stapler. Their father grunted and fired off a few more in whatever patch he was holding shut, before dabbing away any excess blood that might obscure his view with oil stained mechanic rags.

Luke's stomach almost gave out. He needs to go to the med-bay, he sent his twin.

Her face was a stonewall, void of any disturbance at watching their father patch himself up. She replied with a snarky, Fat chance. He'd have to be on his deathbed to get dragged back there.

That was true. The last time he'd been taken to the med-bay, he had nearly exploded it upon waking up. He loathed the idea of being stuck there, like he was after the twins were born. He said it was the greatest agony of his life – not just the injuries, but knowing they were out there, his babies, sensing them through the Force and not being able to break out of the bacta tank.

It had nearly driven him insane.

Any treatments that felt restraining were refused without exception. Luke didn't think much of it when they were small. But he became distinctly aware of the difference their father paid between his health and theirs as he got older.

Whenever they had so much as scraped their knees, Dad had carried them to a med-droid and demanded an over application of bacta. As a result, neither twin had even so much as a faded scar on their bodies. Meanwhile, Dad was covered in old and new, often poorly treated, scars and burn marks. He told the twins he had developed an allergy for bacta. Lie, the Force had echoed.

They used to have a personal med-droid that lived in the hangar and treated their Dad on his ship before he would enter the home. But it administered an unrequested anesthesia for a particularly bad shoulder injury and Dad had imploded it with the Force. Fixing it was a non-option. And Dad refused a new one, paranoid that it would be bugged or linked to the Emperor somehow. He had planned to build a replacement from scratch, but he hadn't had the time yet… And, to be honest, Luke wasn't sure that his dad could even build a med-droid. Those were highly specialized with medical instruments and protocols, well beyond standard droids…no offense Artoo and Threepio…

Leia broke the silence. "Those are unclean," she said, scolding him for using hangar rags on himself. "And you need a med-droid."

Their father flinched, startled, and turned only his head at them, refusing to show his damage fully. His face was snarled like an animal, his Force presence was like twists knot of darkness, so alive in its fury, it was almost suffocating. He pushed out against them, attempting to repell them back down the hall.

"Daddy…!" Leia whimpered, holding her feet grounded and leaning heavily against the Dark Force.

"GET OUT," their father roared, as he pulled the Force around himself, obscuring their view of him, as if a mist of black starlight swirled between them.

Luke raised strong shields around himself and his twin, stepping forward, prepared to block anything their dad might send in his fury. He would do anything to protect Leia, even if that meant stupidly stepping out in front of an angry Sith.

But Leia wasn't having it. She pushed around Luke and stood steady.

"We aren't going anywhere!" she responded through the tremors in her voice.

"Remove your sister, boy, if you know what's good for you," their father spoke through a clenched jaw, realizing fast that the yelling wasn't helping to convince Leia of anything.

His darkness was so powerful, Luke's shield began to crack, letting hissing whispers break in. Luke clenched. He hated how the darkside loved to chatter, a ghostly rabble of malicious thoughts and unspoken insecurities, attempting to sway and entice, promises of power. The gusts swirled around the twins, fragmenting whatever was left of the barrier.

"Leia," Luke whispered and tried to put his hand on her. He wanted to tell her it was enough. He wanted to say, we checked, he'll live! Let's make sure we live too. But he didn't get the chance.

She pulled her wrist away from him and growled, "If you touch me now, I will take your hand."

Luke flinched at the certainty in his sister's voice. He had heard their father get mean before, but he'd never heard Leia say anything like that before. It hurt, more than he'd like to admit.

"Leia…" he gasped, unable to read her face.

Their father grunted, "This is why."

What kind of answer was that? Luke wondered in disgust. Sure, Dad's hurt, but he's never allowed them to speak like that to each other before. They weren't even allowed to tease in his presence, and that was hardly said in jest. Then it clicked.

"It's you," Luke said, studying his father's broad back. "She's feeding off your darkness."

"Careful, Luke. Enough right answers and I might think your poor grades are simply from lack of effort rather than…well," the last word came out almost sweetly, laced with a demeaning smirk that Luke could feel.

Luke's chest ached. He tried to keep his chin up. "I'm not dumb."

"The fool who fooled me, then," his father replied.

Luke tried not to whimper, as Leia remained silently transfixed, soaking in the darkness more and more. Right. Leia. Don't get distracted. He tried to reach out, but even as she stood beside him, her… her Force presence was gone.

"I don't know what's wrong, but you need to stop your anger…"

"Sith don't contain their rage," their father scowled.

"Maybe not, but Dads do."

"And which do you think I am right now?"

Luke wanted to answer a dad, above everything, but he felt unsure. He chewed his bottom lip as the dark thoughts swirled around him again, humming your father is here, your sister is coming, why not join us too? Why do you resist me, when I can give you everything? Sweet boy, powerful boy. Use me to save them. I can help, I can heal, I can even…

Luke covered his ears, Shut! Up! Never, his heart rang. And for a fraction of a second, he could see his mother's smile in his mind's eye. Mom, his chest panged, yearning for someone else to help him, to lend him strength.

His shoulder nudged forward, by an invisible hand, and he grounded himself in the Force, letting it tell him what to say. Huh, that was odd. It whispered a lie to him. When had the Force ever told him to lie? He hesitated, wondering if it was the darkside mascaraing as the light. But his shoulder nudged again, and he realized, lie or not, it would answer the question his father had posed.

He cleared his throat and spoke in a loud voice, "Leia's eyes are yellow."

"What?!" their dad snapped, and jerked around to see.

As soon as he did, the dark grip on the room dissolved. Luke could just make out a fading ring of yellow in his dad's blue eyes before it vanished completely, leaving behind only the crystal blue to which he was accustomed.

Dad ran to Leia to grab her by the arms.

Luke recoiled when he saw his father's chest. He had been sliced diagonally, from shoulder to abdomen, nearly the full length of his torso. It was bad. The worst Luke had ever seen. And it was barely closed by brutal looking staples.

His eyes filled with tears immediately, making his vision swim.

"Leia… Princess…" their dad's tone was gentle as he assessed his frozen little girl. His breathing was shallow and fast. He shook his head in horror as he rubbed her arms. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Leia started to break out of her trance. Her face twitched, life returning to her eyes. Luke felt her Force presence returning. Her eyes began to move, scanning her father's horrified face that was only inches from her own. Finally she moved again, throwing her arms around their father's neck.

"Daddy!" she yelped, squeezing him tightly. "I was so worried about you!"

"I'm so sorry, princess," he spoke into her hair, one hand around the back of her head, the other around her small torso. She pressed against him, and if he felt any pain along his wound, he didn't show it as he held her.

"We love you, Daddy," her response was fierce.

The 'we' made Anakin's eyes jump open again, as he looked for Luke, turning his head gently so as not to disrupt Leia's hold on him. He let out a sad breath as his eyes locked on his son.

Luke trembled and looked at his feet. He wanted to be glad it was over, as Leia was. He wanted to be strong and unwavering like her. At least quick to move on. But he swelled with uncertainty.

Anakin reached a hand toward Luke, asking him to come to them. It was the first time Luke glared at his father and meant it. It surprised them both.

Luke turned his eyes back to his feet, completely ashamed of himself. What's wrong with you?! he snapped at himself. That's your dad, good or bad… You're a terrible son.

"No you aren't, Luke," Leia said, as she pulled out of their father's arms.

Luke batted his eyes before tears could return.

"Luke…" their father tried and offered his hand again.

Luke's face flushed pink. His throat burned and tightened. He knew if he tried to speak, he would sob instead. He shook his head at both of them, before fleeing down the hall, out of his father's chambers. He had had enough for one night.

"Luke!" their dad called, set to go after him.

"Not right yet," Leia said, stopping him.

Anakin was not about to argue with his small daughter about this, but she gave him such a knowing look, one far past her years that he stopped in his tracks. Sometimes, he could see Padme so clearly in her that it took his breath away.

"Later, Daddy. He needs time."

"I have to fix…"

"Later," she repeated again, in a tone that left no room for argument. On any other night, he would have smirked at her, ventured a bow, and called her your highness. "First, you need bacta…"

"Oh no," he shook his head. "No way."

"You don't have to suffer like this. You'd never let us…!"

"I've had enough bacta for several lifetimes."

"And you need more now."

"No."

"Yes."

"Leia..."

"Daddy," she replied firmly.

He raised a brow. "This isn't going to work on me."

"Me neither." She folded her arms and leveled him an unamused look.

"Leia!" he scolded. Unbelievable. No one spoke to him like that. No one gave him orders. Except the Emperor, and apparently his eleven year old daughter.

"Daddy," she replied again, with her nose up.

He let out an exasperated sigh. "I should send you to your room."

"You can try. But it will be easier if you just accept my help."

"You're too young to help me. You'll have nightmares."

She cocked her head at him. "I'm not Luke and you don't scare me."

"I'm… sorry," he sighed. He couldn't fight her any longer. "I wasn't thinking clearly…"

"I know. That's why I'm not mad - yet," she said with an arched brow, a face that looked, again, so much like Padme. His chest sank. That was that, his resistance was broken. "But I will be if you don't let me help you. Unlock the first-aid drawer, please."

Leia did not so much as shudder at her father's brutal wound. If anything, she noted, as she smeared the bacta across his poor attempt at stitches, he was the squeamish one. She knew that was because of her presence though and not the sight of blood.

The saccharine smell of bacta made Anakin's body clench. He gritted his teeth, mentally transported back to the tank, perpetually drowning and screaming and unable to die despite the agony of his condition, and feeling those two bright spots, all that was left of Padme in the galaxy, drifting farther and farther away from him, carted off by Obi—Drop it! he reminded himself.

He had just barely managed to pull out of Sith-mode. He couldn't stand to think of that cursed name and risk falling back into the darkness. Not with Leia here, so gingerly tending to him. She was every bit the Angel her mother was, but with a dangerous dash of him. The way the darkness enthralled her… his little girl…

Never again, he thought to himself. Luke was uncomplicated in the Force, bright as the twin suns on Tatooine, but Leia… She was like him in the one way he wished she wasn't. He had to be more careful.

Perhaps he should have just staying on his ship in the hangar until morning… Not that that would have stopped his twins from investigating. Of course it wouldn't have… Ugh.

It was getting harder to keep them safe. Why did he think it would get easier? Nothing in his life ever got easier. He had expected the toddler years to be the only time he would have to fully child-proof his home. But the pre-teen years proved to be just as chockfull of child-proofing needs, the only difference was what needed safety precautions. It used to be bumpers on sharp corners and locks on the cabinets and toilets bowls, lest any forgotten object be dropped in by a giggling terror.

How simple that all seemed now, when he had to worry about them disabling Threepio, breaking his best locks, or other general Force-related nonsense, like the time when Luke had floated his model ships off of the balcony's ledge to put on an aerial show for Leia – as if that wouldn't raise alarms to the Emperor. He could still cringe at all the memories he had to wipe after that display. He was so proud and yet so irritated by how strong in the Force his babies had become. Those clever little troublemakers.

"Better?" Leia asked kindly, as she looked up at his troubled face.

He forced a smile and a gentle nod. "Much better."