Even with the alarms blaring and people rushing around, Vader only heard his suit failing. He could only feel the persistent pain from the lightning that had blown through him, still tormenting him even after it should have faded into numbness. It was the last gift from his Master, whomst he had betrayed to save his son.

His foot slipped as the servos in his leg finally seized up, making him lurch forward and put more weight on his son's shoulders. Luke had almost dragged him out of the throne room, through endless hallways, until they finally reached the hangar. Now, Vader couldn't stand any longer. His legs gave out completely as they neared the ship, refusing to obey him. He tried to use the dark side of the Force to keep himself going, an old trick he had used many times before. He would draw on his anger and pain to sustain him, even when he was close to death. But this time, the Force did not bend to his will. Even though he was in great pain, he had no anger left. No hatred to fuel his strength.

He felt Luke drag him to the ramp of the ship, laying him down against it. Vader no longer had the strength to even lift himself up without help, yet Luke was there again, pulling him upright.

"Luke.." He said, gazing at his son through the blood red tint of his visor. "Help me take this mask off."

"But you'll die." His son replied, not with anger at the idea, or fear. Simply, an acceptance. A sadness. He knew already.

"Nothing- can stop that now." Vader said, his labored breathing breaking up his words. "Just for once- let me- look on you with my own eyes."

Luke reached up, and with a pneumatic hiss, the pressurized helmet was pulled away. The mask swiftly followed, peeled away like a second skin. And finally, Vader was able to see his son as he truly was, and his son was able to see him. As Vader looked into the eyes of his son, he saw no fear or anger. No disgust at what was left of himself, a broken, burned, monster. His son gazed at him and felt only sadness at the knowledge that only one of them would leave aboard the ship. Vader could feel his lips twitch into a smile, just for a moment, the pain falling into unimportance.

He is like his mother. So caring.

Then, the pain returned with a fury. He could not gasp, for his lungs were ruined. He could not even flinch, for his body refused to respond to anything he did not put his entire willpower behind. Even still, the pain was great. But pain was an old friend, a constant companion throughout his years.

"Now- go, my son. Leave me-"

"No!" His son refused. "You're coming with me. I'll not leave you here, I've got to save you!"

Save him? What a foolish boy. Couldn't he see?

"You already- have, Luke." He managed to whisper, even as he struggled for another breath no longer seeing anything but the darkness of the void. "You were right. You were right about me. Tell your sister… you were right."

As the last of his strength failed him, his eyes closed. He could hear Luke responding, saying something, but it sounded far off. Like his son was speaking over a vast distance. He could barely make out the words…

"I won't leave you."

A nice sentiment, though one that he could not keep. For the first time, he was not the one being left behind, betrayed and abandoned. He was the one leaving, and there was no force powerful enough to reverse it.

He lay back, expecting to feel or hear the clang of his suit on the metal of the ramp, but there was nothing. He lay back into nothing, and there was nothing to lean back into. There was no part of him that would lean, even if there was something to lean against. His pain faded away, his body becoming numb if it even still existed where he was.

He floated, though it did not feel like floating as there was nothing to float on nor in, yet he floated all the same for some time. He felt he could breathe easier now, when he tried. Whatever was left of him here, it had not been damaged by his fall at Mustafar. It had not been burnt to a crisp, burnt by the literal fires that had climbed his body, fueled his hatred for decades.

No, as he was now, he could breathe easy. It was comforting, in a way that nothing had been for many years. He lay, breathing deeply of whatever was left, filling his lungs with air that was not stale. That had not been passed through purification filters to ensure there was nothing left but the air itself. It was clean, and refreshing, and all together different. He imagined long forgotten smells, ones that had filled his dreams and nightmares throughout his years. Of Naboo, fields of grass and trees. He could smell the trees in the air, the scent of leaves rotting and falling off. He could smell the grass, feel the wind across his body. He could feel the sun on his skin, pleasantly warm and not paining his burns.

And when at last he opened his eyes again, he saw what he did not expect to.

Instead of the metal of the Death Star or the interior of the shuttle, he lay staring up at trees. Above him he could see the sun filtering through the leaves. A moment of confusion furrowed his brow, and instead of the expected pain such an action would normally cause him, he felt nothing.

Sitting up, he started in shock at himself. Gone was his suit, the blades of grass he lay on rubbing against his body told him that much, but more startling were his legs. Both of them. Full, and long, and with feet on the end of them. Not his mechanical limbs that pinched his skin and pulled at it horribly whenever he walked, nor the slightly glossy texture of synthskin or synthflesh, but real and true legs with real skin.

Marveling this change, he slowly rose to his unsteady feet. He felt good, very good. Though he had been laying naked in a forest, he had his body back. He was no longer a monster. He closed his eyes again, drinking deeply of the rich air and the feeling of the grass between his toes.

After several seconds however he forcefully pushed away his awe. He did not know how he had ended up here in this forest, and was not going to let his guard down again. He fell back on his training, learned so very long ago in the jedi temple and in his many missions since. First, he had to take stock of his situation.

He had his body back, and was in a random forest. It is unlikely that he survived the explosion of the Death Star, and even if his son had managed to keep him alive as they escaped it would not explain how he had his body returned to him. Putting that forcefully behind him again, he glanced around.

He stood in the clearing of a forest. The trees were filled with leaves that were green, yet some treetops were speckled with red and orange, suggesting that wherever he was it was in a location that experienced autumn. The leaves were somewhat on their way to changing, and while the air was chilly, it was obviously not going to snow any time soon. With the lack of clothes he had on him, he had to find some sort of shelter. While he could use the Force as a buffer to hold off the worst of the weather, he had no idea how powerful any storms on this planet actually were.

As he began to draw upon the Force to protect himself, he was stunned to find it almost entirely silent. It was there, surely, yet he could only feel the barest trickle. Even with his strength returned to him with his body, he could not muster the necessary power to lift more than a small rock.

Frustration clawed at him as he tried again, growling. Sluggishly the Force responded, forming into the faintest barrier he had ever created. At most it would break up the wind for a while. Yet even as he allowed himself to relax slightly, the barrier slipped from his grasp like water.

It seemed that using the Force was beyond him for the moment, likely a result of whatever had brought him here. With an internal sigh he began to walk, choosing a direction more or less at random.

The first thing he must do was get to high ground so he could survey the land around him. From such a position he would be able to locate shelter and hopefully some form of water.

He walked for a time, not meandering yet not with any great strides. He knew he had time before night, given how the local star was still rising in the sky. He traveled through the forest, following wherever the ground sloped upwards. Eventually, he found himself standing atop a cliff, overlooking the forest.

The tree line stopped several paces back from the edge of the cliff, leaving what would have been a large open space if it hadn't been broken by a stone jutting out of the ground. One that was very clearly shaped by hand, and with markings on one side of it. A gravestone. Leaning down in front of it, he looked it over. The markings were unfamiliar to him, in a language that did not match any he knew. However, there was also a marking which seemed to be a symbol, in the shape of some sort of flower.

Wherever he was, he had now proof that there was some sort of intelligent species here as well.