SUMMARY: The truth is finally revealed, but the Emperor still rules and Vader must make a decision about what to do with his newfound children.
Soft beeping.
Leia stirred, opened her eyes - and then stared.
They were on her ship. They had made it.
How had they done it? She struggled to remember finding the ship, getting on it, but the last thing she remembered was the swamp, the Wookiee, a pain in her head… and then nothing.
Until now.
But they must have made it. Unless she had died. But if she had died, why would she be in the med bay? And… she looked around, though her head felt like it weighed a million pounds. There was Luke, curled on her left, sharing the bed, and he didn't look dead, just asleep. And on her right, Vader. That was when she knew she wasn't dead, because that would mean Vader had also died and that was practically impossible.
Vader had found one of the medical chairs and was sitting on it (which looked quite funny, now that Leia thought about it), his head tilted back slightly like he was looking at the ceiling - or asleep. His respirator was slower than before, rhythmic, and he didn't seem to have noticed Leia moving around. She thought he might actually be sleeping for once.
He had said he would make her better, and he had. She knew it because she felt better. So much better.
That was about as far as she was willing to go with her thoughts for now, because even that made her head swim. Her whole body, while no longer aching, felt sluggish and heavy. So with a little sigh, she relaxed back into her bed. It was warm and soft and the tension of all the days before had eased and she just wanted to drift back to sleep. The beeping continued, constant, steady, lulling her in and out of consciousness. She did not know how much time passed with her half-asleep, waking up a little, then dozing off again…
After a time, though, she felt herself coming fully awake. She still felt quite heavy and very, very tired, but she looked around herself a little more. The ship looked exactly the same as when she left it. How long ago had that been? She tried to count the days, but with her not remembering stuff, she didn't know just how long it had been. Maybe less than a week? Or was it more? It felt so much longer. But the ship was still white and clean and peaceful; nothing about that had changed.
There was no Captain Antilles - her heart still ached at that. But Luke was still there, lying beside her. He'd turned around to his other side. Vader was still there as well. She frowned as she noticed for the first time that the sleeve and glove of his left arm had been ripped horribly, revealing a metal prosthetic arm beneath it. She was sure his right arm was a prosthetic. So his left arm was too? The arm itself looked like it had been pulled apart but then welded together back hastily. She did not remember that at all. Had his arm always been like that? Or had something happened when she was unconscious? How long had she been out?
Shaking herself of those thoughts, she turned to her other side and sighed sleepily. Luke was atop her blanket - that was also why she found herself so heavy and hard to move, he was kind of pinning her in place. In fact, when she tried to roll over she found herself unable to do so because of his weight.
Her wriggling, however, awoke Luke. He blinked sleepily, then stretched (and almost punched her in the face). She wrinkled her nose as she tried to avoid him. Still blinking, he looked up and met her gaze. For a second, he stared at her in awe.
Then he smiled.
"You're okay," he all but shouted, relief flooding him as he remembered the long, long hours of holding the virus back. A question lurked in the back of his mind, but it did not feel important enough at the moment for him to think about it too hard, not when Leia was lying there, awake and healthy and alive.
"Shh," Leia whispered, twitching her head towards Vader.
Luke scrunched a little, but he was still smiling, and Leia found herself smiling too. They had found her ship, they were flying away, she was well, they were safe, and that feeling of finally being able to just rest after days of running, made his whole body feel like he was flying.
"How do you feel? Does anything still hurt?" asked Luke, voice so low she almost didn't hear him. Those were the kind of questions Aunt Beru would ask him when he got hurt.
She sighed, wriggling down into the bed. "A little tired," she admitted. "But okay." And she did: she didn't feel like throwing up, she didn't feel achy anywhere, she didn't feel too cold or too hot. It was the nicest she had felt since she had arrived on the planet.
"Do you remember all the…" Luke made a swirly motion around his head. At Leia's confused look, he tried to explain, "Like… floating, I guess? We were getting rid of the virus and everything. Do you remember that?"
Leia frowned. A vague sense of it was returning to her… she had spoken to Luke, hadn't she? And Vader. They had been like little lights in the darkness. "I think… I do. Yeah. But it's kind of… blurry." Like a dream fading away however hard she tried to grasp it.
Luke nodded. "Me too. I… I remember it, and I remember talking to you, and…" His eyes went to Vader for a second. "And I remember how long it felt, and how… weird. But it's all… fuzzy." He thought for a second, seeking out a clearer memory. One came back, starkly terrifying, and his voice dropped as he tried to keep it from shaking. "What about… do you remember the rancor?"
Her eyes widened. "Rancor?" Was he talking about the Wookiee? It was the only thing she could think of that was even close to a rancor. Maybe Luke had mistaken it for one. She didn't think Wookiees lived on desert planets.
"Yeah. There was one right outside your ship." He tried to hold back the memories of it throwing things at him - of it pinning him down on the ramp. "It was infected too, and it was huge." He stretched his arms out as far as he could. "It tried to eat us. I was carrying you the whole way and then it made this roar and a bunch of other infected came-"
Leia tried to sit up, but her body still felt too weak to hold her. That did not sound like a Wookiee at all. She didn't remember any of this, not one bit, and her heart thudded in fear for Luke. "I don't remember any of that! What happened? What did you do?!"
"We ran to your ship, and he distracted it," again, Luke pointed at Vader, "but then it tried to chase me - it was smart, Leia - but I did this - this thing where I - I feel like I saw your ship? I think… you showed it to me? It was a way to bring the ramp down."
Leia shook her head. She could not recall any of that.
Luke slumped, a little disappointed, but then hurried back to his story. "Well, I got it open, and then we made into your ship, and then-"
"And then," the third voice joining theirs made them both startle, "he left you alone to rest, Princess."
Evidently their increasingly loud whispering had finally awoken Vader. His masked head had turned to face them. Luke hunched down again, as if he might hide behind Leia, but at the same time he found himself trying to stretch out to assess Vader's emotions. To his relief, though, he did not sense any anger, just a tired sort of exasperation, a bit of worry, but mixed with… fondness, almost.
Vader stood, cutting off the bond, and came to Leia's side to look down on them. Luke sat up, scooting so he was no longer sitting on top of the blanket. Leia, still tired, chose to continue lying on her bed.
"Sorry," she said, though she was not feeling sorry at all, not that much. She dropped her eyes the way she did with her mother when she wanted to get out of trouble. "It wasn't Luke's fault. I was awake first. I'm feeling a lot better, too."
There was a moment as she felt Vader looking her over. "That will not last long if you do not rest," was Vader's response, but his tone was merely resigned.
He raised a hand, but all he did was lay it on Leia's forehead gently. She did not flinch, but lay, quiescent, beneath his hand. The rest had refreshed him; the fatigue, the feeling of pushing past his own limits, was gone. The only reminders of what they had endured were his tattered cape and his patched together prosthetic, which, while functional, snagged at certain movements and continued to send shooting pains up his shoulder. That was to be expected; his repairs had been hurried at best, done only after he had determined Leia's condition to be stable.
And she was stable. She had come out of her coma; the seizures had dissipated; even her fever was gone. He extended his senses towards Leia's without compunction, no longer afraid of what he would find but still searching for any remaining vestiges of illness. But all seemed well with her, and the last symptoms - a lingering tiredness, some weakness in the body - would heal with time. Most important of all, though, was the strength of her Force signature. Despite the virus ravaging her midi-chlorians, the cells had bounced back with a resilience that mildly shocked him. Perhaps it was the Force's own brand of revenge: the thing created to destroy them had only, once eradicated, resulted in it becoming stronger. In just a few hours her presence had brightened to be almost as strong as Luke's; another few days, he predicted, and it would be equal to her brother's. And Vader's.
It took a moment for him to realize that he cared about this not because of any indication of her potential for power, but only as a measure of her health, and he put that thought away as being too uncomfortable for close perusal.
Could this method have saved Padmé?
The question stabbed at him, unrelenting and haunting. He had brought his daughter back from the brink of death, using Force techniques practically unheard of in the Jedi temple, save as legends, perhaps. It was something only hinted at by Palpatine, vague insinuations dropped and allowed to foment in Vader's imagination. Manipulation of midi-chlorians… the prolonging life… preventing one from dying…
But the question remained: was what he had done of the Light, or the Dark? Would Palpatine have ever taught him of this technique, or would he have left it, as it had happened here, to Vader to discover for himself? Had Vader even needed his master? Had he ever?
And at the heart of it: did it matter, when his daughter lived?
Questions for another time, he told himself, thrusting it all away. Leia was moving beneath the blankets, still a little listless from her long ordeal but with growing energy.
She had not, he realized, discovered the price she had to pay for her survival.
He was unwilling to reveal it to her just yet, and instead reached over and placed his hand on Luke's head. He frowned. The cuts and bruises his son had sustained in the swamp were healing, either from the bacta patches he had placed on him or his own youthful energy, but he had acquired new ones from their rapid dash to the Alderaanian ship, which neither he nor Luke had seen fit to take care of. Moreover, the child was hungry and quite filthy, whereas Leia at least had been hooked up to IVs for her nutritional needs. Vader let his hand drop, feeling an unwanted guilt pool in his chest. He had neglected the boy in favor of his sister, understandably, perhaps, but he had to rectify that.
Taking advantage of the fact that he no longer had to limit his use of the Force, Vader summoned over a med kit, Luke's pack, and several wet, medicated towels, and indicated for Luke to get down from the medical bed and sit on a nearby chair. The boy was as still as his sister as Vader tended to him, not understanding, perhaps, what Vader was doing or why, but still willing to trust, as he had before, that Vader was not harming them.
But why, Luke wondered again, the same question he had had in the transport, in the same situation, as Vader pulled off the old bacta patches - wet and dirtied and some of them practically rubbed off from being thrown around by the rancor. Why had he helped - and then the thought went away as Vader rubbed the medicated towels against his cuts. It hurt - there was something chemical in them that made the cuts sting even worse than the other wipes - but it was over quickly, and then the new bacta patches were placed over them. There was even something in there for the bruises on his legs, a kind of padding that Vader said would help the blood flow and promote healing. He wrapped it around his legs, mostly his knees and his shins, tugging off his boots and putting his leg wrappings, which were still a little damp, somewhere else for drying. He felt filthy sitting in this clean, white med bay, and looking at Leia, noticed for the first time that she was much the same: wet from rain and with patches of dirt and mud everywhere. He supposed he hadn't seen that because he was so relieved she was well.
Leia watched too as Vader cleaned Luke up as best as he could with some towels. His pack crunched with leftover meal packs and ration bars, and she realized that, for the first time in days, she was actually craving food. Solid food - that sounded quite nice to have. Maybe once Vader was done with Luke, they could get something from the food synthesizer. But while he worked, she was content to lie there drowsily, listening to the continuing beep of the monitors and the peeling of bacta patches. Luke was off her blanket so she turned over to lie on her side instead of on her back.
She froze, and, sensing her distress, Vader turned sharply.
Where her right hand and arm should have been, there was nothing.
Leia lifted her arm from where it had been hidden beneath a blanket. She did not understand, she could still feel her hand there, she was sure she had been curling her fingers, moving her hand - hadn't she felt the blanket over it? But when she looked, there was nothing beneath her elbow: just a stump of flesh with a medical pad wrapped tightly over the place that had been cut off.
Vader made a movement as if to reach for her, then thought better of it. "Leia-" Her wide eyes found his, somehow, behind the mask, searching desperately for any kind of answer there, and Vader realized he was in the unusual and very uncomfortable situation of floundering for words. "We isolated the infection to your arm, where the bite was. But to destroy it-" It seemed that Leia's large eyes would completely disarm him. "To destroy it in time… the only solution was to remove it before it could spread again."
He remembered how easily his lightsaber had cut through the withered skin and flesh and bone - too easily. He remembered placing the medical pad on the end to numb the pain and begin healing the cauterized flesh - the exact same process he had undergone once, many lifetimes ago. He remembered scooping up the dismembered limb, crawling with infection, feeling strangely detached from the whole process, as if it was not his own daughter's arm he was picking up. He remembered wrapping the festering thing into a vacuum sealed bag, dousing it in disinfectant, burning it, and ejecting the remains into space just for good measure.
The last hypo from the med pac had gone with it. For a painless end, Doctor Monega had advised him. But Leia was not dying and he had taken a furious pleasure in ridding himself of it.
Leia held up what remained of her right arm. Vader saw her eyes go to his own, exposed prosthetic arm, the one he had used, in a bout of complete insanity, to block the rancor's bite. For whatever reason, the sight seemed to calm her.
"It was the only way?" she asked, looking up at him, remembering again falling into a long, pained sleep of nightmares and strange dreams. Remembering too floating in the darkness before Luke and Vader's voices had called to her.
Vader nodded.
A little frown crossed her face. "If you helped me… couldn't you help everyone - everyone down there?"
She meant all the infected. Vader withheld a sigh. "It would be beyond my powers." Before Leia could respond, he said, "It took the combined efforts of all three of us to heal you. There are millions living on that world. It would be impossible to heal them all."
Leia kept staring at her arm. "So - we're just going to leave them?"
He looked at her upturned face and said something he knew he was going to regret. "I will… endeavor to find some way of helping them." He remembered the data card he had taken from Doctor Monega on a whim. Perhaps he might have some use for it after all.
Twin looks of relief met him after his pronouncement. It was more effective than it should have been. He would need to learn not to be so affected by it.
One of her most burning questions answered, Leia dropped her arm and caught Luke staring from his seat. It made her stomach clench, until she saw he did not look pitying or repulsed. He just looked accepting, and a little sad, not because she'd lost an arm but because she was frightened and confused and in pain.
And, as they exchanged glances, she saw the question that had been forming in his head ever since the swamp, the same question she had had and which Vader had, so far, refused to answer. But now more than ever, now that they were here and safe, now that she had seen what Vader was willing to do, how far he was willing to go, she had to ask, Luke had to ask.
"Can you tell us now?" she said.
Vader tilted his head. "Tell you what?"
Luke got up on his knees on the chair in an attempt to gain more height. "Why did you help us?" Before Vader could respond, he blurted out, "Like when the base got bombed. And in fields. The swamp. When we were running to the ship - you kept helping us. Why?"
And then curing her, and bringing them to the ship, flying off with them in it - something clicked into place for Leia. She had not thought of it until now, had not wanted to think of it until now because it had been so painful, but it was not so frightening, Vader was not so frightening as when she had first met him, and with her mind clear of fear, she thought she could pinpoint the exact moment things had changed.
"It's because of my mother, isn't it?" she asked quietly. "My real mother?"
For a moment, the only sound was Vader's respirator cycling.
Then, "Luke, come here."
Luke blinked in confusion, but followed where he gestured, sitting beside Leia on the bed. She pulled herself upright, leaning against the pillows, to make room for him.
Vader looked at Leia. "Do you still have the holoprojector?"
Leia nodded, and Luke watched, still bewildered but now curious, as she pulled it out from a pocket of her dress. Vader was not particularly surprised it had survived - it had to be the will of the Force, as it was its will that he had found his children.
He held out his hand for it. Leia hesitated, clinging onto this one representation of her mother, but finally her curiosity won out over the last remnants of her distrust, and she placed it in Vader's palm, so many questions in her eyes. Vader held it gently, almost reverentially, as he turned it on. The image of Leia's real mother blinked into view, smiling wistfully. She looked gentle, kind. Beautiful. Luke thought even Vader knew that, the way he stared at it. He stared at it for so long, in fact, Luke almost thought he would not give it back, that he planned to hold onto it forever, that was how transfixed he was with it, until he placed it down between Leia and Luke, with a hesitation that looked reluctant.
"Did Bail Organa ever tell you her name?" he asked Leia. When she shook her head, Vader said slowly, "Her name was… Padmé." He pronounced the name softly. "Padmé Naberrie Amidala."
Luke saw Leia's eyes widen and her lips move as she tested the name. The smallest bit of envy crossed his mind - he did not know his own mother's name. Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru had never told him.
But then he felt Vader's gaze fall on him, exactly like he had sensed Luke's thoughts.
"This is your mother, Leia," said Vader slowly, looking at Luke all the while. "And Luke… she is yours."
Luke sat stock still for a moment.
His mother, too?
His first thought was to blurt out that Vader was wrong, there was no way this beautiful woman could be his mother. Leia's, yes, they looked almost exactly alike, and of course a princess should have a mother who looked like that. But him, Luke? A farm boy from Tatooine?
But he could feel the truth of Vader's words with that inner sense he had had his entire life - the Force, Vader would probably tell him. As unlikely as it seemed… this was his mother. And now he knew her name, too.
And if she was his mother and Leia's, that made him…
"You're my sister?" he said, staring at Leia, seeing that she had reached the same shocked conclusion. Now he knew why he felt like he had known her, had always known her, why he had found that bond so easily with her.
"Twins," Vader confirmed.
Leia looked at Luke. And smiled. She had a brother. She had always wanted a sibling - no. She had always known that she had one, deep down; had felt an empty hole where he should have been, and her wanting one was simply her wishing for that hole to be filled and not knowing why it wasn't. It had been there so long she had stopped realizing it was even there, but now with Luke sitting beside her, she could feel it becoming whole.
Brother.
Without thinking, she reached out with her one arm and hugged him. Luke grabbed tight hold of her too and hugged back, being careful not to hurt her where her arm had been cut off.
He had a sister! A twin sister. He let his presence find the bond with her and opened it up to her, feeling all her thoughts, feeling that same void he had known filling up. That was why they had connected so easily, why whenever he reached out, he had found her.
But wait… He released her and stared at Vader. "How did you know? That we're twins and that she's-" he motioned to the holo, "-my - I mean, our - mother?"
The silence was the longest he had ever heard from Vader, endless cycles of his respirator filling it. Luke had a sense of Vader steeling himself, and felt his own body tense in anticipation.
Until at last, Vader said simply, "She was my wife."
For a few seconds, Luke had no idea what that meant. He just kept blinking at Vader, wondering how in the galaxy that explained anything. But then he heard Leia gasp, and like her mind had connected to his, it all came together. Twins - sister, brother - mother, Padmé - and Darth Vader's wife, which meant -
Father.
The word fell into place, and everything made sense. Luke understood all of it now: why Vader had protected them so violently, why there was a link between them that he had found as easily as Leia's, why they could sense each other so well, why he could talk to Vader so easily at times, about speeders and fixing things and Tatooine and the Force, why, why, why -
Darth Vader was their father, and maybe that should have been scary, but he had been through so many other scary things the last few days and Vader had been the only lifeline in all of it, that all he felt was relief and understanding and the filling of that other great hole in his life.
His father.
And Luke, reaching out through their connection, nudged against Vader now, no shields, no barriers, all their emotions flowing, but all he felt from Vader - his father - was an awful, tearing uncertainty.
So Luke reached out for him until he grabbed Vader's hand, tugging him nearer. Vader drew close to them, right up to the bed, where Luke was sitting, staring up at him. Another tug, and Vader came down slowly to their level, masked face gazing intently into Luke's, and again there was that hesitation until Luke wrapped his arms around Vader's neck, pressing himself against the man.
For several seconds, Luke's spontaneous gesture appeared to stun Vader into freezing. But then he brought his own arm up and, very gently, placed it around the boy, pulling him closer.
Leia, meanwhile, watched the two of them, unsure what to do. She was excited to have learned her real mother's name, thrilled at having Luke as a brother… but Darth Vader as her father? To her, father was still Bail Organa, and for all that she was curious about her real mother, the woman she recognized as her mother was Breha. At least now she understood why Vader had changed so when he had pushed into her memories and found her real mother there… the probing that still made her flinch from remembered pain.
But afterwards… after that, he had led her through the city, protecting her and, later, Luke. He had brought her to the base. He had, in his own intimidating way, cared for her, looked after her, helped her, and then had saved them after the entire building was bombed. And, she knew, he had carried her all the rest of the way, brought her to the ship… saved her life.
Father.
It was all so mixed up and confusing, and she wished she could be Luke, who had only an aunt and uncle and who could so easily accept a father into his life. Darth Vader… the idea of him still terrified her, in a way. He was the person her parents whispered about when they thought she couldn't hear them. He was the dark figure on the HoloNet, with mysterious powers and who only came to bring destruction. And now he was her father.
And he had saved her. Saved both of them.
Was that enough?
Tentatively, she leaned forward, noticing, again, what used to be her right arm. He had done that, too. He had cut off her arm. And he had done it to save her.
With her other arm, she pulled herself closer to Vader and, curling against Luke, wrapped it around Vader's neck as well. In seconds she felt Vader's own arm come up and cradle her close, and it was not too different from when he had carried her across the field. She rested her head against the crook of his neck. His helmet was hard against her forehead, as was the armor along his shoulders, and she could hear his respirator quickening in its breathing. But otherwise, he was not too different from Bail Organa.
Father. She pressed her face closer. He smelled of dust and metal and plastic.
Luke's thoughts mingled with hers, light with elation. Our father.
My children, they heard along their respective bonds, and both were sure it was not their imagination.
But eventually they had to pull away, Leia, exhausted just from that, falling back against her pillow. Luke glanced at her and scooted over so he was sitting right next to her. "So what happens now?" He raised hopeful eyes to Vader. Were they going to live together now? He was their father, Leia was his sister. They were family. That was what families did after they found one another, wasn't it? Live together?
"Now," Vader said, sounding much more business-like and more, well, Vader, "you are going to wash up and eat something." He looked at Leia. "I assume there is a refresher and food synthesizer on this ship?"
Leia, put on the spot and still a little disoriented from, well, everything, nodded.
"Good." He pointed a finger at her. "Do not get up for anything except to wash, you are still recovering. Ask your brother to bring you anything you need." Brother, it was so strange and yet so exhilarating to hear that. "I will make contact with the Exactor and bring this ship there."
Luke wrinkled his forehead. "Okay. But… what about after?" He shot a wondering look at Leia. "Are we going to… go with you?"
Vader seemed to hesitate. "I will decide that after we are aboard my ship." Another jab of his finger. "Wash. Eat. Rest. I will return shortly." He swept from the room, the door sliding shut behind him.
As soon as he was gone, Luke leaned towards Leia. "What do you think?" He felt almost giddy now: he had a sister and a father! Everything was going to be okay now, wasn't it?
Leia shook her head. "I don't know." She fussed with her blanket, curling it in her one remaining fist. "Do you really think he'll let us live with him?" She had never even thought of Darth Vader having a home or a family - up until the last few days, she had thought of him as more like a droid, unstoppable, not needing anything to live. A curious question occurred to her, right then: if Vader was their father, then he was obviously human, so… what did he look like under the mask? She had sometimes tried to imagine what her real father was like. Now that she knew he was Vader… she shot a surreptitious look at Luke. Luke had said she looked like her mother. Did that mean Luke looked like Vader?
Luke was oblivious to Leia's thoughts. "We should, right?" He swung his legs over the side of the bed. "We're a family now."
But her family was back on Alderaan, Leia thought. They were still her parents. She wished she had Luke's confidence. "I don't want to leave my parents - I mean, my - my father and mother on Alderaan." It was strange now to say it, when Vader had also declared himself their father. "They're still my family too. And I know they're worried about me." She looked at Luke. "What about you? Don't you have your aunt and uncle?"
"Yeah." He was ashamed to have not thought of them in all the excitement. "They're probably worried too. Or maybe just mad." He had run away, after all. "I'd miss them too, but… maybe we can visit them? I mean, we can't just go back to them, can we? I want to stay with you. With our… our father." He said it a little shyly, the word unfamiliar in his mouth.
Leia nodded fervently. That, more than anything else, was making her nervous. "I want to stay with you, too."
They both looked towards the door where Vader had gone through. Luke sighed. "I guess we'll find out later. Do you want to use the 'fresher first?" He wrinkled his nose at his clothes. "And I have to wash these, too."
"You can go," Leia said, lying back against the pillows. "But could you get me something from the food synth first?" At Luke's look, she reminded him, "He said you have to get me anything I want."
In the cockpit, Vader closed the door, allowing himself some space away from the children. The distance, he knew, was physical only; their connections to him thrummed along the Force, strong, brimming with their every emotion. He placed his hands on the controls, where he had left them on autopilot, hovering somewhere above the treeline of the planet, before guiding them into orbit. The Exactor lay ahead, remaining within the system even after the others had left, awaiting his return. He allowed himself to relax into the ease of piloting, the simplicity of it.
Only then could he contemplate Luke's question: what would they do after?
His first impulse was to tell Luke that, yes, he would be taking them to live with him. He had spent eight years without his children, unaware even of their existence; he would not be deprived of them a moment longer, not when they were finally out of danger.
But common sense quickly overrode that, the voice that whispered, Are they truly out of danger now?
That same voice asked him, What of the Emperor?
His children were strong with the Force, incredibly strong - no doubt that was why they had been hidden from him and Palpatine. Were he to present them to the Emperor, Palpatine would immediately see what potential they had, what assets they might be to his power.
Or danger.
That is, after all, what you had planned, isn't it? the voice asked him. Now you have it. Your daughter lives. You have your son as well. Take them as your apprentices, train them in the Dark Side as you planned. They are your children, your blood, and they will be loyal only to you. Then, when the moment is right, strike down the Emperor and take his place as ruler of the galaxy.
But if he had thought that far ahead already, it was obvious that his master would too, as soon as he laid eyes on the twins. And what then?
Palpatine might take them for himself, bend them to his own will. He would order it of Vader. Vader knew well how manipulative his master could be, and how powerful. Vader could not hope to disobey him, could not defeat him on his own; if the Emperor commanded it of Vader, he would be forced to hand over his children. And at their age, so vulnerable, and having just found out Vader was their father, any ties of blood would mean little after years of the Emperor's molding. Vader knew as well that, after his injuries on Mustafar, the Emperor had found him to be rather unsatisfactory as an apprentice. He might very well be handing over his own replacements - and once Vader had been struck down, killed by his own children, then the twins would be told to turn on one another for the position of the Emperor's apprentice. There would be no one to protect them at all.
Two there must be…
Or the Emperor may not even go that far.
He might order them killed.
He might order Vader to kill them. A test of his loyalty. And what then? Vader clenched his fist on the controls. He could not defy the Emperor. But he would not kill his own children, not after all his efforts to save them.
Then hide them and train them.
That could take years, years in which they would be at constant risk for discovery.
And there was one final question, pushed deep down so that he did not have to think about it until now: did he truly want them trained in the Dark Side?
It went against all Sith teachings, to even question that. Why else would he have need of such powerful children if not to turn them to the Dark Side?
But he knew what the answer was to that.
You just want them, don't you? Not as apprentices, not as future Sith Lords. Just them.
Foolish. Because that option, more than any of the others, left them most open to danger. Two powerful, untrained children of immense Force potential? They were simply begging for the Emperor to take them.
Then what can you do to protect them?
For one rapturous moment, he considered throwing everything away and fleeing into the furthest reaches of wild space. Leave behind Empire and master, take a shuttle, and settle on some uninhabited planet in a remote corner of the Unknown Regions, raising them as he should have, perhaps training them the way he desired.
But just as quickly as the vision came, he dismissed it as a foolish, hopeless dream. Should Vader defect, Palpatine would stop at nothing to retrieve him and take vengeance for Vader's disobedience - he was too powerful for Palpatine to just let him go. He would send probe droids, Inquisitors, and the full might of the Imperial military, not to mention all the powers of the Dark Side. And once he discovered the children… there would be no safe place for them. Vader knew with clinical dispassion that he had little to no allies who would risk the Emperor's wrath to aid him, even if they wanted to.
Not to mention, he thought with a wry twist of his scarred mouth, the temper tantrums he'd have to put up with from his children if he tore them from their homes. Especially from Leia.
So then, what to do?
The answer came slowly, but perhaps that was only because he did not wish to acknowledge it. But it was the only answer he could think of.
At that moment, he received a message from the comms system. "Vessel Polestar, state your purpose and destination."
He pressed the transmission button. "Captain Denholm, prepare the docking bay for my immediate arrival."
There was a startled pause before he received the next message. "Lord Vader! My apologies, we did not recognize your ship." That much was obvious, Vader knew; he was flying an Alderaanian yacht, not the shuttle he had left on. "We had heard that you and your entire party were killed at the governor's palace!"
"Clearly not," was Vader's scathing reply. "I will be within range of the Exactor in less than five minutes. Have a shuttle ready; I have other business I must attend to. I want the entire bay cleared of personnel."
"Of course, my lord," was Captain Denholm's puzzled response. Vader was about to shut off the transmission when the captain added, "My lord, the Emperor contacted us five days ago. He requested that you speak to him should you return."
For a moment, Vader wondered if the Emperor somehow knew about the discovery of his children - if he had felt it through a tremor in the Force. But he dismissed this - more likely, he wanted an update on the status of this bioweapon that had been created. It was, after all, the Emperor who had also allowed it to go forward, and Vader had little doubt that he had been keeping a closer eye on its progress than Vader had. And with it came another thought: the Emperor had fully expected him to survive this.
"Inform the Emperor that I will be contacting him shortly."
He flew the ship until it reached the Exactor's tractor beam, then allowed himself to think of his next steps. He had ordered his shuttle ready and the hangar bay cleared so that he could discreetly move the children to that ship before leaving. But now that would have to wait until after he spoke with his master.
As the ship landed, he left the cockpit in search of his children. They had not left the med bay, but even if they had, Vader had no doubt he would have found them easily, that was how bright their Force signatures were.
He found them freshly washed, clothes clean. Leia was sitting on her bed, eating a meal with more appetite than she had for days. He noted that approvingly, also noticing her increasing energy - and talkativeness. Luke sat on the bed beside her, the two chattering about something or other - he caught Leia expounding about the nearby woods and Luke occasionally describing the dunes of Tatooine. But their conversation halted as he entered.
"Come," he told them, "we are landing in my Star Destroyer's docking bay, but we will depart on my shuttle. I have ordered the bay to be emptied of all personnel, but we must be quick." He examined Leia, trying to gauge her health. "Can you walk?"
Her presence flared with annoyance, which he took to be another good sign. "Yes I can walk!"
He simply nodded before leading them off the ship and towards his own personal shuttle. It was a walk of just a few feet but he was cognizant the entire time of the possibility of being seen. His plan would be for nothing if anybody spotted two children walking alongside him and reported it back to his master.
Once inside, he said, "Stay in here. I will return your ship to Alderaan, but first I must speak with the Emperor. I will return."
Luke stared around the ship. "You're going to leave us here?"
Vader regarded him curiously. "It is perfectly safe. None of the men will disturb you." The crew of his flagship had long ago learned to heed his orders, however unusual, lest they incur his wrath.
But that was not, apparently, Luke's concern. "Can I sit in the cockpit?"
Leia's eyes lit up. "Can I sit in the pilot's chair?"
Vader had a brief but vivid mental image of his errant children slapping a button and his shuttle taking off to Force knew where.
"No."
But he had not prepared himself for the twin expressions of dismay he got at that response. Before he had time to even think about it, he heard himself saying, "You may sit in the cockpit but only in the back. Do not touch anything."
The way their faces shone should not have touched something in him. He watched as the two scrambled from their chairs for the front, Luke already claiming the copilot's seat. It was as if the events of the last few days had never happened - or maybe they were driven out by the prospect of pretending to fly a ship. Shaking his head minutely, he left the shuttle, closing the ramp as he departed.
The docking bay remained empty, even of the usual contingent of troopers overlooking it for security purposes, but Vader knew that footage was still being recorded by the nearby holocams. He made a short detour to the security room to erase it - it was only a few seconds long and unless someone was actively searching for it, nobody would even notice it was gone.
Then he made his way to his personal chambers and the Emperor.
As Vader kneeled, he wrapped himself in the Dark Side and eliminated all thoughts of children, of Padmé, of his plan… of anything except for the business of cleansing the planet of infected beings. If he revealed any hint of his wavering attention, allowed himself even once to think of his children waiting for him, all would be lost.
"What is thy bidding, my master?"
Palpatine's image flickered into view, his grotesque visage magnified to ten times bigger than Vader. Even as a blue hologram, there was something malevolent flickering behind those hooded eyes.
"Lord Vader." His voice was measured, anticipatory. "I trust your visit was productive?"
So it was to be a meeting of obfuscation and subterfuge. Vader hardened his shields, not letting any of his impatience leak out. "It was most informative, master." He let his words end there, choosing to wait for his master to reveal his hand.
His master, of course, was far too clever to play into this. "I have felt a strange disturbance in the Force. Was this supposed uprising the product of a nascent cell of rebels?"
Of course he would know that it was not. "No, my master." Knowing that simple answer was not enough, Vader added, "The uprising was caused by a contagion spread amongst the population." Something nudged at his shields, something along the twin bonds. He studiously ignored it even as part of him balked at his reaction, wanting to return.
"A contagion?" Palpatine's interest was only perfunctory. "That appears to have been omitted from the governor's latest reports. Shall I trust then that the agitators were quelled?"
So it seemed he too was playing dumb, though he did it well enough that, had it not been for Doctor Monega's report, Vader might even have believed him. The thought made him weary, the constant duel of move and countermove, of baiting and rising to - or refusing - the bait.
Or perhaps it was something else: another one of his tests. Palpatine was fond of throwing those at Vader, testing his allegiance to the Dark Side - and to him. Well, he would not know just how far Vader had fallen from his allegiance, hidden behind shields as hard as durasteel. "Reports of any agitators are false. The so-called uprising was violence caused by victims of the infection, symptoms of their progressing illness."
"Most interesting." Sinister curiosity permeated the Emperor's voice. "And the source of this disease?"
Vader had never had much inclination for this game of words and hidden meanings, and as he felt another nudge along the bond, he decided to end it now, whatever his master should think. "An Imperial base engaged in bioweapons research." He allowed his anger to leak through now. "Its lead scientist was conducting research into midi-chlorians. A disease that targeted those cells specifically, a disease he claimed you had full knowledge of."
The Emperor smiled. "Doctor Monega was correct. I approved of his proposal myself after hearing it - as did you." A reminder, then, that Vader was just as culpable in the creation - and that Palpatine had not missed the undertone of accusation. "I was most… distressed to hear of the doctor's demise in the orbital bombardment. He was an extraordinarily resourceful scientist." His tone grew cloyingly troubled. "As I was to hear that you were planetside when the bombardment occurred. The orders for such were certainly not of my doing. Have you identified the officer who gave it?"
So it was another test, Vader thought resignedly. "No, my master, but I look forward to conducting a thorough investigation of all the officers." An investigation that no doubt would lead to a trail of false leads with no conclusion. Or perhaps it would lead to a man, a scapegoat for him to loose his misplaced anger on. It would not matter. Only one could have ordered the bombardment while he was on the planet's surface with the confidence of getting away with it. As for why - likely another test by his master. He turned the subject away from that. "Master, the disease-"
Palpatine cut him off. "Fascinating, was it not? And a way to cull the Jedi, as well as…" something in his tone shifted, "any others of their potential. Relatives, perhaps. Offspring."
Vader slammed his shields down as his wariness spiked. Was that a warning? A probe meant to drive at Vader's past? Or merely the Emperor's idle speculations? He waited a moment, fighting for control before daring to speak. "Master, the disease infected not only Force-sensitives but every living being. It interfered with the ability to tap into the Force itself. Whatever strikes at the Jedi strikes at the Sith."
"Quite true, Lord Vader, quite true. Yet even you must admit there is some potential there." Palpatine let the words hang for a moment. "What would your solution be?"
This was steadier ground for him, and Vader did not hesitate. "The disease must be halted. No ships must be allowed in or out of the system. A planet-wide quarantine must be placed."
"And yet, if this disease strikes, as you say, not only at the Sith but at every living being, surely you would agree that more drastic measures must be taken to prevent any future occurrence."
Vader hesitated. "If there is a possibility of a cure-"
Palpatine waved a dismissive hand. "For there to be a cure, we would need to share Doctor Monega's research, opening the door to imitators. This planet was a testing ground for his creation, and a most effective one, but nothing more. The risk is too great. The inhabitants have served their purpose. Is that clear, Lord Vader?"
He could not argue. "Yes, my master." He knew Palpatine was waiting for him to suggest something else - but his children's faces as he promised to aid the planet floated before him. Quickly he shut it off before the Emperor could become aware of it.
He would not disagree with the Emperor - but neither would he be the one to bring up a more destructive alternative. It was a pitiful gesture of defiance, but it was the best he could do.
The silence between them lengthened. It was Palpatine who chose to break it. "A plague can rest dormant in the soil and water and atmosphere for years on end. We must not risk letting it spread any further. Perhaps incineration of the entire planetary surface will do? Or orbital bombardment of any and all residences?"
Vader recoiled involuntarily at the thought, even as memories of being buried beneath rubble threatened his composure. "There may well be survivors," he rumbled, "Imperial troops among them."
"Nonsense." Palpatine's holographic image appeared to grow larger as he leaned forward. "The base was destroyed, as you well know, and any survivors will be mere fodder for the diseased. I will not risk breaching the quarantine to save a few stragglers from their fate."
He breathed in and out, weighing the options before him. His children's faces swam before him yet again before he hastily pushed them away. "It is an agricultural world," he began carefully, "and its lone city has already been destroyed. It would be a waste of resources to wipe out the entire planet. A quarantine and blockade of the planet from all trade routes should suffice." Leia's face floated before his eyes again, pale with illness. As did Luke's. He added, "It can be used as an example of the Empire's benevolence. Instead of bombardment or incineration, we have left it to attempt to recover."
"Mercy," said the Emperor, with a mirthless twist of his wrinkled mouth, "is for those too weak to survive in this galaxy."
But Vader was ready. "Then it will serve as an example. Spread word that there was a rebellious contingent forming in the city, as initial reports stated and that this was their fate."
Palpatine considered the proposal, then nodded. "Very wise, my apprentice. Yet there is one more way for this disease to spill over: information. What shall be done with Doctor Monega's research?"
Vader stepped carefully here. The Emperor had praised the doctor only moments before, not to mention gave approval to his project years ago… but given the results, Vader did not think his next words would be met with disapproval. "Master, even if it was unintentional, research into midi-chlorians is illegal under the Empire's laws. His research is too dangerous to be given to other scientists. It must also be destroyed."
"I quite agree," replied Palpatine, suddenly business-like. "How fortunate it is that the base was already destroyed, is it not? And I have already ensured that all the data banks of Doctor Monega's research have been erased. Nobody will follow in his footsteps."
Vader kept all thoughts of Doctor Monega's data card out of his mind.
Palpatine seemed to recede slightly in the hologram, interest waning. "Shall I leave it in your hands?"
Vader bowed. "It will be done, my master."
He waited for Palpatine's image to flicker out of existence before letting out a sigh, as best as he could, of relief. Standing, he gave his preliminary orders to his men before making his way back to the shuttle. He gently tested the twin bonds as he did so. They seemed well enough, so he at least did not have to worry that they had destroyed his shuttle in the interim.
On the way, he passed by one of the crewmen. "Return the Polestar to the House of Organa," he ordered. "And inform them…" He hesitated at the choice before him, knowing there was no other option. "Inform them that its most valued passenger will be joining them shortly."
He did not stop to hear the crewman's assent.
It was time to take his children home.
Vader found them in the cockpit of his shuttle, the two of them seated in the back chairs.
"What's our status, Leia?" Luke called. He was up on his knees in the chair, staring out the front viewport as he steered an imaginary wheel.
Leia made a rapid spin as if to simulate a scan. "Enemy fighters all around us, Luke!" She pretended to swing down an imaginary turret, which at least was better than her actually touching the gunner's array in front of her. "I'll take them down!" She swung about with her one arm.
"Negative, there's too many! We're headed towards an asteroid field!" Luke made a boom! sound, rocking up and down in the chair.
"An asteroid field!" Leia yelped. "Luke, we'll be killed!" She made as if to shoot her turret. "Look, I'm taking them down! Two fighters down, two more on our tail!"
"Intensify forward shields!" Luke twisted his "wheel" and gunned a "lever". "We'll face them head on! Get ready, Leia!"
"Ready!"
They made simultaneous exploding noises before whooping. "We did it! Our cargo is secured!"
"What were we transporting anyway?" asked Leia curiously.
"Uh… death sticks."
"What?!"
Vader ducked into the cockpit at that moment, crossing his arms. Both children fell silent at the sight of him. Luke hurriedly sat back down in his seat.
Leia said, in the manner of seeking a distraction, "Um… are we going to go now?"
Luke perked up. "Where are we going?"
Vader moved past his two children to take the pilot's seat, deciding not to comment on what he had just witnessed. "I am taking you home." He started up the shuttle, feeling the familiar rumble of the engines whirring to life.
"Okay," Luke nodded. Then he blinked. "Where's that?"
"I am returning you to your aunt and uncle," he said to Luke. "And you to your parents," he told Leia.
A stunned silence followed those words.
"But - we're not going to - to stay with you?" Luke demanded.
Leia added, "Luke can't stay with me?"
The ship pulled out of the hangar bay, the momentum briefly pushing the children back against their seats, as Vader said, "It is too dangerous for you to come with me." He turned and instantly regretted it as he found two pairs of bewildered eyes on him. "Listen to me. There is a great power in you, but it is also something that brings great danger."
"But you're our father," said Luke, as if that might solve everything, and Vader could almost hear his unspoken thoughts: You protected us before, you can protect us from everything else!
He refrained from sighing; he had not expected this to be that difficult. They were returning to the people who had raised them, he would have thought them to be thrilled to be going back. "I have many enemies, Luke, some with more power than I have. If they were to find you, your very life would be at risk. I cannot protect you-"
"You said you wouldn't leave us!" Luke interrupted at a shout.
Startled, Vader said, "Luke-"
But the boy had shot out of his seat and stumbled off to the back. Vader, following his Force signature, sensed him throwing himself at the very end seat, furthest from the cockpit.
A soft noise made him turn again and see Leia rising from her seat as well. Her glare was half defiant, half betrayed. "You promised you wouldn't go," she whispered. "You promised." She ran to the back as well.
For a long while Vader was surprised into stillness; it was only years of experience that allowed him to essentially auto-pilot the shuttle away from the Exactor. He set the coordinates, but the distress emanating from Luke's bond - from both his children's bonds - was proving to be quite distracting. It tugged at something in him, something he had thought long-buried, and one part of him said that if a little thing like this could interfere with his attention so badly, perhaps it was for the best that he send them back to their respective homes.
Not to mention, with all the upheaval, one would think they would rejoice at returning to the normality of their previous lives, rather than being thrown into a home with a Sith Lord. It was not as if he had done a good job of getting them to trust him either, what with trying to kill Luke at first meeting him and using a mental probe on Leia…
The other part, though, was urging him to do something, anything, to put it right. He could not very well deposit his children back at their homes in this state, could he?
With a sigh, Vader punched in the coordinates, then placed the ship on auto-pilot before leaving for the back.
He found them curled together in the last row of seats, hands twining together. Leia was whispering something, it sounded again like the lakes and oceans of Alderaan, and he thought that maybe she was trying to describe what it might be like for Luke to join her there - and for her to join Luke on Tatooine. They studiously ignored him as he approached, a childish act that engendered both amusement and irritation. Nevertheless, he still had to speak to them, so he came right up to the two and stood, waiting for a response.
Luke stiffened his shoulders and Leia slumped in her seat, still refusing to acknowledge him. Even their twin bonds were closed to him, or at least, they attempted to close them. Vader could have easily bypassed their barely formed shields, but that did not seem like a wise move when they were both already distressed.
So they were at a standoff.
The ship bounced gently as it traveled through hyperspace, and the two remained stubbornly, obstinately silent in the face of Vader looming over them. Remarkably, Vader considered the fact that they would drop out of hyperspace and the two would still continue to refuse to speak to him, united in their twin conspiracy to, perhaps, annoy their father into letting them remain together. Vader was considering just dumping them on their respective planets and letting them learn from their mistakes that way, but realized that that was not a good move either.
He found himself wishing Padmé were there. She would know what to say. And the thought occurred to him as well that he was putting off saying anything because he had so little experience in this field.
What could he do to make them understand?
At last, it came to him, the only thing that could work at all. He sat down on the seat beside the two, staring out the viewports with its shimmering streaks of light.
"Luke, Leia," he said, trying to find the words, "When I told you about the Force, as you were learning - do you remember what I said about it?"
For a moment, neither responded, and Vader wondered if he might end up holding an entirely one-sided conversation. But finally Leia, still looking mulish, muttered, "You said… we had it and we were very… strong in it, I think."
He nodded. "And the infected. What did I say about them and the Force?"
It was Luke who answered this time. "You said… that they sensed it. They used it to hunt us." He wiped his face.
"There are others in the galaxy who can use the Force, and they, too, can sense when you use it. They will hunt you, just like the infected. And when you do, you will be in danger." The children lifted their heads to look at him, twin expressions of bewilderment on their faces. "But it will be worse. Because these people are intelligent. They may not just try to kill you. They will try to use you, to hurt you, to hurt others."
Their bonds were open to him once more, and he heard the echo of their shared thoughts. But what about you? they wanted to ask once again. He had saved them before, and he felt, stronger than anything, their unshakeable faith that he would save them again, and it rocked him to his core. How could he explain what he must, how could he make them see the necessity of what he had to do?
"One of these people," he said slowly, "is the Emperor."
He saw both children blink in confusion. "The Emperor?" repeated Luke. "What does he want with us?" And Vader could hear his thoughts: how does someone so important care about us?
"The Emperor," said Vader carefully, "is more dangerous than anybody else in the galaxy." He stared at the two, trying to emphasize the intensity of what he was saying. "If he learns of your existence, he will stop at nothing to acquire you. And if he feels you are a threat to him…" He let the words trail off.
Leia finished them for him. "He'll kill us?"
Vader let his silence confirm her words.
Luke stared at Vader. "What about you?" And again, that unspoken trust lingered in the air.
Vader shook his head. "I am not strong enough to defy him." Once, perhaps. But the intervening years had proved how wrong he was.
"You?" Luke asked, disbelieving.
He nodded, not caring to explain further. "That is why you must return. You are safe where you are, the Emperor will not find you. That is why you were placed there, rather than… with me." It was a lie, but it was yet another thing he could not tell them about, not at this age.
They stared at their laps. Vader could feel their turmoil, their depression. "You said you wouldn't go," Luke whispered, one last protest.
He started to respond, then had a better idea. Reaching out, he found the twin bonds that connected them to him - and to one another. Along that bond, he sent the feelings he could not convey in words: the resigned acceptance of what he had to do, the pain that he shared with them of having to part with them, and above all, his fear for their lives… and his protectiveness.
I am not leaving you. Not truly.
He knew that they had heard when he saw their eyes widen. A flood of emotions rushed through the bonds, so similar as to be almost indistinguishable from one another: grief and uncertainty and wonder and trust, all at the same time.
For a moment, they just sat there, taking in the feelings.
Vader felt the rumble of the ship preparing to come out of hyperspace and stood. "We will arrive at Tatooine soon. You may stay here until we land."
Luke glanced up. "Can we… sit in the cockpit with you?" His eyes were wide and a tendril of thought escaped him, the urge to stay near him just a little longer.
Vader regarded him for a moment. How simple it was to distract them, to make them happy, in their innocence. He hoped it would last, knowing that was pure naivete on his end. "If you do not touch anything or disturb me… you may."
The two scrambled to their feet and, dodging around him, dashed for the cockpit ahead of him, and Vader allowed himself a moment of bemusement at how easily satisfied they were.
"Can I sit in the co-pilot's seat?" Luke asked, bouncing.
"I want to sit in it," Leia protested. "I was in the back already."
"I was in the back too!"
"I was in the very back!"
Vader held up a hand, forestalling further argument, then jabbed a finger at Luke. "You may sit in the co-pilot's seat until we land." He pointed at Leia. "You can sit during our flight to Alderaan."
That seemed to satisfy them, but Vader waited until both were seated and buckled in before continuing. Then it was only for them to watch as the streaks of light settled into the pinpricks of stars that marked their arrival at Tatooine.
I did something a little funky with the POV of this first part of the chapter, mainly by leaping around perspectives willy-nilly. I've seen other writers do it but not done it myself so it was a little weird, but it also felt needed because this was a chapter where I wanted all three POVs.
Also I wrote this without quite knowing the ending and Vader's decision, but the more I went on the more I realized that, given Vader's character development, he would conclude that the safest thing IS to return both kids to their homes. Though having said that, the little vision Vader had of just grabbing the twins and running off into the Unknown Regions would make a good AU, or even an alternate ending if I can't get the sequel to this working - I mean, sequel? Who said anything about a sequel!?