'Father! Father, don't go! I need you! Please. PLEASE! I NEED YOU!'

Vader opened his eyes and straightened up, immediately reacquainting himself with his surroundings. He was in the medical frigate of the Rebel Alliance, in his son's isolation chamber where he'd spent the night, holding the boy in his arms.

Gasping with a start, he looked down, and the image that greeted his eyes brought a sigh of relief out of him.

Luke slept quietly in the same position he'd been in all night, all cuddled up to him, his only hand ensconced between his father's bigger ones. Some colour had returned to his face and Vader sighed again, closing his eyes with a nod.

Just then, Luke stirred a little, drawing his attention like a shot. The young man made himself more comfortable against him and promptly stilled again.

Unable to help himself, Vader shook his head and brought the hand that covered his child's to the soft cheek, stroking it down delicately.

'Whatever happens, I'm glad to be here with you. Where I belong.'

His features softened beneath the mask at the thought, and he rejoiced in the freedom he had to indulge in something he should have done decades ago.

The long lashes flickered at his touch, and in a sudden bout of self-consciousness, Vader's hand returned to its original position, covering Luke's.

Sobering, he stared at the wall directly ahead, a part of him wondering what time it was. Somehow, he knew he had slept longer than usual.

The feeling that he was being observed, made him look down again, and his heart missed a beat.

Two big light eyes were riveted on him, and the solemn expression on his son's face made it impossible to look away.

Vader tipped his head to the left, making it easier for the boy to look at him, hoping he would understand he meant no harm. Not now; not ever again.

"You're still here," an edge of wistfulness seeped from the hoarse voice.

"Yes." Something in Vader reached out to the silent plea in those beautiful orbs that only he could see. "Do you want me here?" he asked quietly.

Luke's eyes lowered at that, and the boy bit his lower lip. Taking in a shaky breath, he nodded timidly.

The big hand didn't hesitate this time. The strong fingers combed softly through the silken hair, brushing the bangs aside. Time and again and again... never wanting to stop.

"Then, I'll stay."

Luke's eyes sought his as if seeking confirmation of his words, and in them Vader saw an infinite weariness coupled with... longing?

Nodding, the Dark Lord caressed the broad forehead.

"You're tired," he whispered. "Rest now. Rest... and heal," he grazed his fingertips over the thin eyelids, closing them tenderly. "Sleep, little one."

Seconds later, Luke was fast asleep.

And Vader's heart overflowed with contentment.


Soon after, the door opened and a refreshed-looking and very resolute Princess walked in.

"How is he?" she asked without preamble, going straight for Luke's bed.

"Sleeping," Vader informed her, taking in her more informal attire. Light brown bottoms and a white, round-necked top. Her hair was braided in a single plait that reached below her waist.

Leia stroked the pale cheek with the backs of her fingers, needing to reconnect with the young man she so loved. She noticed right away that he had some colour in his face.

"He doesn't seem to have moved all night," she observed.

"He hasn't," Vader said, leaning back against the headboard. "He woke up a few minutes ago but was sleeping again in seconds."

Leia nodded.

"At least, his fever has dropped some more," she sighed, relieved.

Vader watched her as she took a seat in the chair closest to the bed. Definitely, a good night's rest had been good for her. There was still an unhealthy pallor to her skin and dark circles under her eyes, but there was also a liveliness to her bearing and a spark to her spirit that had been absent before.

Feeling more relaxed and alert than she'd felt in days, Leia also did her share of unobtrusive observation.

In many ways, she couldn't believe what she was seeing; but she couldn't deny the truth that lay before her eyes either. Darth Vader, holding Luke Skywalker in his arms.

A Dark Lord. An Imperial. A mortal enemy. But also a Father.

A sharp beeping sound broke the stillness of the moment. Startled, Leia pricked her ears to locate the source of the sound. It came from... from Vader's armour?

The Dark Lord stiffened visibly. He'd been so wrapped up in his son that he had forgotten completely about the transmitter! Blast it! Blast it to Sith hell!

He had to think fast if he didn't want to blow the only chance he would ever get to win the Princess' trust.

He looked down pointedly at his belt where the sound was coming from, and then turned to the young woman watching him like a hawk.

"My suit needs some critical adjustments," the imperturbable calmness in his statement surprised even him. "If you will excuse me..." Vader looked down at the young man that had slept curled up to him all night, slender fingers deeply intertwined with his own, and felt like his flesh was being torn open at the thought of letting go.

Away from Luke's arms lay the abyss. Madness. Eternal damnation.

Grinding his teeth, he held his son away from him, shuddering at the gradual separation.

He felt the Princess' eagerness at the unexpected joy of holding Luke again, and trusting that need to distract her from any suspicions she might harbour, he moved aside and stood for the first time in many hours.

A passing dizziness made him stop halfway from the small restroom. He reached out to the door and it opened enticingly, almost luring him in.

He walked inside and leaned on the sink instinctively, slowly catching his breath. When he felt better he looked up, fixing his gaze on the hole he'd punched in the wall the day before.

The insistent beeping sound was so annoying that he slapped open the hidden pouch in his belt. He reached inside and produced the tiny communications device, activating it with his thumb. Seconds later, Piett's voice reported to his superior officer.

"Mission accomplished, Lord Vader. We encountered fierce resistance, but it was useless against our troops. What are your orders?"

A deliberate, assertive smile curved the Sith Lord's mouth.

Excellent.


Fully composed once more, Vader exited the restroom to find Dr. Vilk checking his son's vitals and reassessing his medical condition. The Princess stood at the foot of the bed with her arms crossed, waiting patiently.

Vader walked up to the young woman and stood next to her, letting the doctor do his job. Finally, Vilk straightened up and turned to them, raising an already arched eyebrow on seeing them standing side by side.

"Well, doctor?" Leia asked.

Vilk scratched his head in an unconscious gesture of confusion.

"I don't know what kind of magic you're weaving here, but please, don't stop," he shook his head in wonder. "His fever's dropped enough now, so it's safe to remove the cooling blankets. I'm going to order a blood culture to find out if he's finally fighting back the infection. I would venture to say he is; his colour is better today," he raised his eyes and met Leia's. "Things are beginning to look good. Beginning, mind you," he emphasized. "We all know how unpredictable his illness has been."

Leia nodded assent, but deep down something told her it was safe to hope.

"Also," Vilk continued, "it's time to change his bedding and wash him up. If you'll come with me, the nurses will take care of that at once," he put out his arm, clearly intending to escort them out of the room.

As one, Leia and Vader looked at one another, identical thoughts in mind. Both reluctant to leave the person they so cared about in the efficient, but also cold and unfeeling hands of robot nurses.

Vilk stared at them, blown away by the fact that he could tell exactly what they were thinking. The Princess he could understand, but Vader?

Vader?

"He'll be treated gently, with the utmost dignity and respect," he assured them.

The Princess and the Sith Lord gave each other one last fast look, and seemed to accept it, albeit less than enthusiastically.


Leia sat with her ankles crossed in the waiting room, hands entwined and tapping her thumbs together nervously. She couldn't wait to get back inside. Every minute away from Luke killed her with the agony of not knowing how he was, of not seeing him with her own eyes.

Vader paced back and forth, his cape billowing behind him as he moved. He was a mass of barely controlled emotion on the verge of exploding.

When the door opened, Leia was on her feet and Vader made his way from the other side of the room in a fraction of a second. The nurses rolled out and the last one made her announcement with a chirp.

"You can get in now."

They needed no further prompting. Leia rushed in, followed closely by Vader.

Luke lay in bed covered up to mid-chest, looking warm and comfortable. He wore a flimsy white gown and his appearance was soft, fresh and neat; even his hair seemed blonder and fluffier - almost an invitation to run one's fingers through it.

Vader and Leia studied him avidly, both seeing signs of improvement but not wanting to get their hopes too high. They looked at each other and nodded in silent agreement.

Leia started for the bed, clearly intending to sit and hold him first. When she was reaching down to Luke, she stopped in mid-gesture and looked up at Vader, hesitating for a moment.

Vader raised one hand in acceptance, and headed for the nearest chair instead.

When she had the young man in her arms again, Leia began to run her fingers through the blond strands over and over. It was an irresistible temptation, and she gave in to it willingly.

"He smells good," she commented out of the blue. She didn't know what made her say that. There had been something about his smell before that had given her the creeps on a very primal level. Like the smell of death closing in.

Vader nodded, as if he knew what she meant by that.

"He's at peace," he stated.

Leia turned her eyes to him.

"How do you know?"

Vader returned her stare.

"Through the Force."

The Princess made an exasperated face.

"I can imagine, but how do you feel that? How can you tell the difference between then and now?"

Vader made a pondering pause.

"Close your eyes," he finally said.

Leia threw him an apprehensive look, but ended up complying.

"Good," Vader approved. "Now try to clear your mind from any outside stimuli. Just concentrate on your inner self."

"All right," Leia did her best to focus inwards, using the weight of Luke's body against her as an anchor.

Vader reached out tentatively, just enough to sense if she was doing it right.

"Hey!" her eyes burst open, startling the Sith Lord. "Don't you dare to use your Dark Side power thing on me, you hear me?"

Vader rolled his eyes.

"This is basic Force training. All Force users must do these exercises if they want to master the most elemental techniques."

"Oh," Leia cooled off as fast as she'd heated up. "Fine, then." She closed her eyes again and tried to find some measure of calm.

"Take your time," Vader said, knowing that after her brief outburst she would need several extra seconds to collect herself.

It took over a minute, but Vader felt, through her respiration and the outward signs her body was giving off, that she was managing a modicum of concentration.

"Now," he tried to keep his voice casual and intense at the same time, "reach out. Just reach out to him. Breathe deeply and try to touch his aura, the warmth that lingers around him. It won't harm you. Open yourself to him and..."

"Fear," the Princess suddenly blurted out. "I feel fear. Fear... Conflict and... and... hope," her voice broke on the word. "And longing... Such longing for you! Oh, it's so beautiful! So much love! So much love!" Luke's emotions swept her away like a tide and tears gathered behind her eyes.

The sound of the door sliding open snapped Leia out of her light trance. The tears spilled helplessly, falling on the blond head like raindrops.

A nurse rolled in carrying a tray with a sandwich and a juice. Clearly a midday snack.

"Doctor's orders," she said to the young woman.

Leia couldn't even look at her as she left. She was crushed by the onslaught of Luke's emotions. She'd never met anyone with such boundless capacity to feel. But then, she didn't have anyone to compare it to, outside herself.

It was frightening. To feel so much. To need so much. To love so much. How could Luke stand it?

Vader had been right to a certain extent. There was peace there indeed, but beneath the surface lay a landscape of layered emotions that painted the most complex, breathtaking picture.

Fear of his father and the lethal threat he posed. Fear of his feelings for him and the weakness they represented. Desperate longing for his father's tenderness. Hope for his father's redemption... It all blended into this mosaic of interwoven emotions that were impossible to tell apart. Fear of hoping. Need to hope. Fear of needing. Need to be needed...

But everything paled in comparison with the glorious, transcendent, sacred feeling that shone in the essence of Luke's being.

LOVE. Love beyond her experience. Immeasurable love for her, for his friends, for all. Absolute, unconditional love for his father. Love as a way of life. Love as the touchstone of his moral universe. Love as the beginning and the end of all things.

She felt so unworthy, so ugly in the face of such innocent beauty, of such purity of character...

Luke was a pure, old soul in a world of war, evil and cowardly cynicism.

So frail and vulnerable; and yet unbreakable, indestructible.

Incorruptible.

That's where Luke's ultimate sense of peace came from. From the intimate knowledge of his own faults, of his oh-so-human needs. Of knowing exactly who and what he was, and accepting it.

The price he'd paid for that peace had almost cost him his life - and still could - but Luke had found himself at last.

Leia's eyes turned to her beloved friend's father.

Would Vader ever measure up to the man and the Jedi his son had become? What hope was there for Vader?

She didn't have to reach out and touch his aura to know the answer to both questions.

For all his power and knowledge in the Force, Vader was pathetically limited. Maybe that was the main difference between the good and the bad sides of the Force. Between the Light and the Dark. The Dark saw everything in black and white, with maybe some grey thrown into the mix. The Light was all about colours, shades and hues. Vader's entanglement in the Dark Side blinded him to the million nuances that made Luke Skywalker the creature of sheer Light he was.

Vader would never know because he would never allow himself to see, to touch, to embrace the promise of salvation that Luke offered just by existing.

It hurt so much to know that Luke would never get the dearest thing to his heart! All that healing love inside and...

She shook her head resignedly.

'I'm sorry, Luke. I'm so sorry!'

"Will you hold him while I'm having that?" she asked Vader brusquely, nodding in the direction of her sandwich.

"Yes," Vader rose from his chair, and Leia thought she detected some uneasiness in his tone.

She could guess why. And maybe... Maybe that was the right course of action. To keep them in close physical contact. Force Vader to accept the truth of what his child was and let Luke's soothing influence permeate his father's being. She had no faith in Vader whatsoever, but Luke deserved every chance she could give him.

She slid out from behind her sleeping angel and held him up for Vader. The Sith Lord sat down on the bed and slid in carefully, holding the thin body in a grip that was anything but heartfelt.

Vader's cruel withdrawal hit Leia like a punch in the stomach, and anger boiled in her like molten lava. In any other circumstance, she would have exploded and damn the consequences; instead, she bit her lips in a superhuman display of self-control and walked stiffly to the table.

She ate her sandwich with calculated slowness, making use of her diplomatic skills that so useful had been in the past.

'Something good will come out of this. Something good will come out of this,' she chanted like a mantra. 'It has to. It has to!'

She wiped her mouth with the napkin and turned about in her seat, deep in thought.

"Do you want to take over?" Vader was quick to ask.

"What's the matter?" she snapped indignantly. "Are you tired of holding your child already?" she glowered at him. "Don't worry, he won't hurt you. He wouldn't even if he could." In seconds, she went from angry to caustic, to bitter. "He's easier to hurt than to love, isn't he?" she accused harshly. "Easier to maim."

Something in Vader stirred on hearing that. Something dark, very dark and beastly.

"Watch yourself," he growled.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve, milord?" Leia goaded relentlessly, matching his anger with her own. "Did you enjoy mutilating him? Raping his mind? Trying to turn him into you?"

Vader's body tensed like a bowstring, milliseconds away from lashing out...

"Leia... No."

And that weak, broken voice cut through the dark fog of fury and violence, dissolving it like snow in the sunlight.

Vader and Leia glared at each other, unwilling to be the first to back down.

"Anger is not the way," the shaky voice reminded them both. "Hate is never the answer."

Torn apart by those words she'd always known were true, but Vader had somehow managed to make her forget, the Princess turned her eyes to the pale, anguished face that looked at her imploringly.

"How can you be so forgiving, Luke?" her question came out more like a reproach. "How can you ignore everything he's done, everything he *is*, and still have so much hope in him?"

The saddest, most poignant smile illuminated the exhausted features.

"He's here, Leia. He came," he took in a laboured breath. "It's enough."

Leia shook her head, in saddened wonder.

"You deserve so much more," she practically sobbed.

Luke blinked back tears.

"Don't give up on his soul. He's fighting to break free, and one day he will," the faintest smile appeared on his cracked lips. "And I need to be there to see it with my own eyes."

The plea in those striking blue depths, so sweet and loving, were Leia's undoing once more.

"All right, Luke," she conceded with a sour sigh. "All right," she made a grimace and looked away, distinctly irked and frustrated.

Luke took a few more laboured breaths and moved his head back slightly, looking up at the man who'd sired him.

"You can let me go, if you want," he invited his father with a plaintive smile. Feeling that the collected moisture was about to slide down the corner of his eye, he looked down swiftly, staring at the white bedcovers. The tear rolled languidly down his cheek, unnoticed.

Vader closed his eyes and swallowed the hard lump in his throat. Taking a few deep breaths of his own, he focused all his energy on finding his calm centre again. Automatically, his senses zeroed in on his son, concentrating on him until the boy's presence surrounded him in an almost tangible manner. He found himself wrapped in a soft, fragrant bubble of quietude, and the roaring of the beast became a distant howling far, far away.

He swallowed again and looked down at the gentle young man who, even now, still had the courage to defend him in front of the one closest to him.

Why? What did Luke see in him? Didn't he know by now there was nothing left of the person he'd been once? Where did all that faith come from?

Force, those eyes regarded him with such trust, such absolute acceptance... They made him want to do anything to... to...

"No, I won't let you go," he swam in those all-encompassing pools of emotion. His hand glided over his son's chest, feeling the sharp ribs move under his palm. He placed it right on the centre and pressed down a little. "Take slow, deep breaths. It'll help."

The boy stared at him as if he was experiencing a whooshing moment of deja vu. Vader nodded and brought his other hand to the wet cheek, wiping away the tear track that Luke had unknowingly left exposed. The young man blinked a few times and turned his face into his father's palm in gratitude. Then, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Vader studied his sleeping child for a while, unable to take his eyes off him. Finally, when he was convinced that Luke was merely taking another restorative doze, he leaned back and heaved a long sigh.

Leia observed him in disbelief, incapable of figuring him out. One moment it seemed he was taking his first baby steps back into compassion and kindness, and the next he reverted back to the heartless murderer of countless lives; cold and callous. And the next...

It was insane.

An unbidden thought crossed her mind then. Could it be that she was also blinded? Blinded by her resentment and... - who was she trying to fool? - and by her downright hatred for him? That she couldn't see past the pain they had all endured at his hands?

Could it be that she was also trapped in her own private hell? That she was a prisoner of her own intransigence? Of her adamant refusal to give him even the benefit of the doubt?

One thing she was certain of. She was sick of second-guessing herself, of being persuaded to give Vader what he had NEVER given anyone.

Silence stretched out until the door opened and Dr. Vilk walked in.

The thick tension in the room gave the older man pause for a second, but immediately remembering the reason that had brought him there, he shrugged it off and began his examination. With just one look, a wide smile lit up his features.

"Yes, about time!" he exclaimed.

"What? What is it?" Leia bent forward in her seat, trying to guess what the doctor had seen.

Vilk pointed at the bag attached to the lower side of Luke's bed. It was almost half-full with a yellowish liquid.

"His kidneys are working again. This is without question the BEST news since he fell ill," his sparkling eyes brought a grin to Leia's lips. "His other failing organs should start coming back online too," he nodded assuredly. "The culture results will come in a few hours, but I don't need them to know that his body is finally fighting back."

Leia gasped out loud with immense joy and relief. Her eyes sought Vader's naturally, but the Dark Lord gave no outward sign of emotion. He just sat there, impassively; indifferent to what the doctor's words actually meant for Luke. His reaction, or lack of it, felt like a slap in the face and she scowled at him with utter loathing.

Impervious to the situation unfolding before him, Vilk continued his examination.

"His fever dropped half a degree since the last time," he announced. "Things are getting better and better."

Leia nodded to herself and fixed her attention on a point above Luke's bed, waiting for the doctor to finish.

"Well!" Vilk straightened up at last and turned to the Princess. "He's definitely improving. I can make no promises but he's recovering, that's undeniable." He turned to Vader. "The next few hours will be critical. If his improvement continues, his possibilities will rise exponentially."

"Thank you, doctor," Leia breathed most sincerely.

Vilk's head turned from Vader to Leia, and his expression hardened.

"That's why I strongly suggest you two to put your differences aside, as you have been doing so far. This young man here deserves every chance we can give him, and I don't want to risk that because you can't be civil with each other. Is that clear?"

Vilk's fiery eyes jolted Leia out of her angry haze. Berating herself for letting Vader's attitude get to her, she met the good doctor's stare with a nod of acknowledgement.

"Yes, doctor. He's all that matters, now and always."

"I concur," Vader agreed.

"Glad to know that's settled," Vilk was determined to keep his composure. "I'll come back later in the evening to see how he goes," he turned and headed for the door. "Oh, by the way," he turned back to Leia with an ironic expression on his face, "Dr. Senna sends her best wishes and happiness that he's getting better. In case you've forgotten about her." And with a curt nod, he left.

Once alone, Vader and Leia turned their heads to each other and reached a tacit truce without saying a word. Leia leaned back in her chair, shutting out the Sith Lord as if he wasn't in the room. Vader also made a point of ignoring the Princess, and focused his senses on his sleeping child, alert to every minute change in him.

As minutes ticked by, the Dark Lord sneaked occasional glances at the stubborn woman sitting two metres in front of him. Outspoken, headstrong, inflexible, ferociously loyal and protective... She reminded him so much of another life... of a young man just as unyielding, just as possessive, just as self-righteous...

There were so many things he wanted to tell her... But he knew he would sound hypocritical and insincere. Everything that came from him would fall on deaf ears. He could see that her own attitude was hurting her, preventing her from seeing beyond... But there was nothing he could do. Only hope that one day, Luke would break through that shell and help her.

His eyes turned then to his child. The boy stirred a little, trying to turn onto his side, but he was too weak so he gave up after a couple attempts. He winced in his sleep.

"Shhh, it is all right," Vader hushed quietly, rubbing his chest comfortingly. Just the fact that Luke was trying to move around meant he was beginning to get his strength back. He brought his other hand to the light head and started to comb through the satin strands and massage the scalp, swept away by the flash of an ancient memory.

It worked. After a few seconds, Luke's restless movements stopped and he relaxed against him.

A little smile softened Vader's features. After running a very high fever for days, he knew the constant headache must have been unbearable, so any massage that alleviated the lingering soreness had to feel like heaven.

It took so little to make Luke feel better... Why couldn't he...? Why didn't he...?

The Princess was right. It was easier to hurt than to nurture. It was easier to destroy than to build. It was easier to hate than to love.

This child was both his torment and his consolation. He wanted to escape him, to put as much distance as possible between them... and he couldn't bear the thought of being separated from him again.

Force, what was he going to do?

On her part, Leia struggled in a morass of conflicting emotions. She was infinitely tired, at the very end of her rope.

She was losing control, and that made her feel at a disadvantage. Having Vader around drove her mad. He was an ominous presence, dangerous beyond anyone's imaginings, and to crown it all, she was getting mixed vibes from him which drove her up the wall.

She had completely forgotten about poor Auren, the one who'd stuck with her through thick and thin from the beginning. The only support she'd had during those nightmarish days when Luke's health had spiralled down at full throttle. The one who'd inspired her to do the unthinkable. She'd dismissed her as if the many hours spent at Luke's bedside meant nothing.

It infuriated her to have her mistakes and blunders thrown in her face before the galaxy's greatest criminal. It undermined her authority and her position.

So much loneliness, so much mistrust, so much anger...

She couldn't take it anymore. She was grasping at straws and the smallest provocation would send her over the edge.

She had a quick light lunch and then sat again in the chair that had become her safe vantage point, her lair... from which she observed Vader's small tender gestures toward his son, that only increased her confusion and lack of understanding of what was truly happening beneath that grotesque mask.

A couple hours passed thus; the simmering rage and animosity building up like a volcano.

A beeping sound, coming from outside the room broke the tense atmosphere. Seconds later, doctor Vilk's voice echoed in the room.

"Excuse me, your highness," he sounded all business through the intercom. "Commander Quincy insists on speaking to you. He says it's urgent. Do you want me to open a channel to your private quarters?" he asked with a knowing inflection in his voice.

Leia was instantly on full alert. The proverbial other shoe had just dropped.

"Not necessary, doctor. Patch him through," she fixed her steely gaze on Vader's still form as she spoke with deceptive calm.

"Yes, your highness," the communication was closed and another was opened almost immediately.

"Princess Leia?" Quincy's tone was deadly serious.

"Yes, Commander, what is it?" Leia responded in kind, preparing herself for what he was going to say.

"An Imperial shuttle is heading straight toward us," he made a brief pause to let the information sink in. "Our long-range scanners don't detect any other Imperial ships, but considering the fact that no one knows where we are..."

"I'm on my way, Commander!" Leia rose from her chair like a predator – slow and menacing. She hunched forward and pierced Vader with eyes that burned with hate and betrayal. "What did you do?" she snarled, grinding her teeth.

Unfazed, Vader looked up at her nonchalantly.

"Before jumping to conclusions, why don't you go and see for yourself what is actually happening?" he suggested.

Leia bared her teeth, hissing like a snake. The time bomb went off.

"Damn you," she gnarled breathlessly. "Damn you to hell, you double-crossing bastard!" she spat, turning and leaving the room at a run. She met doctor Vilk on the other side, who was coming in to find out what was going on. "Get in there and stay until I return!" she ordered him without looking back.

TO BE CONTINUED...